Last week’s book response

Commenters on that post were entered into a drawing to win a copy of Cracking Up (except a few who said they already owned a copy). I wrote out each name and put them all in a straw hat. After shaking the names around, I held the hat above my second-eldest daughter’s head and asked her to pull one. She plucked a name from the hat, unfolded it and held it out for the witness, my husband, to read aloud. This is the name he read:

Ruth, of Island Potpourri.

Ruth, you won the book! Let’s chat about how I can get this to you. One idea: I fly to Jamaica to hand-deliver it? I’m only joking, but I would love to meet you in person, Ruth.

For those who don’t know, I got to know Ruth years ago through blogging, back when I hosted a project a few times a year called Mega Memory Month, encouraging people to work for a month to memorize longer chunks of Scripture, poetry, speeches. Ruth joined Mega Memory Month almost every time it rolled around, and we held each other accountable on our blogs by sharing progress reports.

Over the years, other bloggers with wider reach began to emphasize the importance of long-form memory work, so I retired Mega Memory Month and left the leadership of that discipline in the capable hands (and minds) of others. Even without Mega Memory Month to keep us on the same page, however, Ruth has continued to stay in touch, and I’m so glad.

Step into Ruth’s world through her stories and thoughtful reflections at Island Potpourri.

The post Winner of “Cracking Up” by Kimberlee Conway Ireton appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

Each Wednesday I’ve been recording a Curiosity Journal to recap the previous week using these tag words: reading, playing, learning, reacting and writing.

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Reading

I read more of The Thinking Life: How to Thrive in the Age of Distraction, continuing to find lots of lines about slowing down.But it’s not only about making time to think. For example, I thought this portion was particularly applicable given my curiosity theme:

In this book on thinking, what I usually have in mind is critical thinking, the kind that is rational, informed, purposeful, and reflective, the kind that strives to remain bias-free and to arrive at logical conclusions. The critical thinker is an examiner of life, always alert, ready to pay attention, interested in everything, constantly asking, “Why?” and taking delight in the process of discovery. (Forni 7-8, emphasis mine)

In case you haven’t noticed, I’m interested in lots of things. I frequently ask “Why?” and take delight in the process of discovery. Several of my friends, however, are active doers who feel most satisfied having worked through a hefty to-do list. These doers are essential to keeping the world in motion. Their work is essential and valued, and I’m blessed that they support my intangible pursuits with love, humoring me and showing interest, even when I have accomplished little in a day outside of what transpired in my head and perhaps flowed through my fingers onto the page or screen.

Playing

I’m happy to inform you that I have a Words with Friends buddy. With practice, I’m playing a little smarter than I used to. And I’m learning obscure words. My favorite so far: “poods.”

Learning

This week, I’m beginning to read student research papers on the following topics:

• The Titanic (a focus on its rapid sinking)
• Alcatraz (focus is on The Great Escape)
• Sweat shops (focus on Bangladesh)
• PTSD (focus on PTSD developing in people directly affected by World Trade Center attacks)
• McDonald’s (how the company has had to adapt its American menu and restaurants to appeal to Indian culture)
• Concussions in football

I’m prepared to learn a lot.

Reacting

What about that Pinterest, eh? Just when I was getting in the swing of things, having a little fun pinning style, food and home ideas, I discover it’s at the center of copyright controversy.

Writing

I’m enjoying my work editing the “I Do” series at The High Calling. Today’s post by Ann Voskamp reflects on the doing of “I do.” She reminds us that daisies aren’t enough…and yet, the doing…those daily, thoughtful, sacrificial acts of love are essential to keeping love strong.

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Credits: All images by Ann Kroeker. All rights reserved.Affiliate links included.Forni, P. M. The Thinking Life: How to Thrive in the Age of Distraction. St. Martin’s Press: New York, 2011. Print.

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The post Curiosity Journal: February 22, 2012 appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

Staying Put: Making a Home in a Restless World

But first, the wrap-up.

Sanders makes a case for story trumping data when he quotes Flannery O’Connor, who admitted feeling, she said, “a certain embarrassment about being a storyteller in these times when stories are considered not quite as satisfying as statements and statements not quite as statistics…in the long run, a people is known, not by its statements or its statistics, but by the stories it tells” (157, 166).

“By what stories shall we be known?” Sanders muses (166).

What are we passing on? What content are we preserving on Facebook and blogs, in journals and memoirs? By what stories will this generation be known?

Sanders answers the question in part by telling his own stories. For example, he tells of returning to one of the places he lived when he was young. After revisiting old haunts, he ended up in a church, entering through an open back door. He observed the “squeaky pine boards of the floor,” child-sized tables used in Sunday school, and hooks where the choir would hang their robes. He continued:

Every few paces I halted, listening. The joints of the church cricked as the sun let it go. Birds fussed beyond the windows. But no one else was about; this relieved me, for here least of all was I prepared to explain myself. I had moved too long in circles where to confess an interest in religious things marked one as a charlatan, a sentimentalist, or a fool. No doubt I have all three qualities in my character. But I also have another quality, and that is an unshakable hunger to know who I am, where I am, and into what sort of cosmos I have been so briefly and astonishingly sprung. Whatever combination of shady motives might have led me here, the impulse that shook me right then was a craving to glimpse the very source of things. (190)

I always thought everyone shared that “unshakable hunger” to know who they are and where they are and from where they have been sprung.

But I have discovered that many people don’t relate to this. Perhaps they simply live in the moment without any desire to dig deeper into the soul or memory. Curious, they are not…at least, not about the past that makes the self. I, on the other hand, continually feel questions arise and want to find answers, seeking to know better who I am…and who I am becoming.

Aren’t we all becoming in the sense that we are always living yet another page in our story?

As we are busy living our stories, we aren’t necessarily telling our stories. When we venture to take on the role of a storyteller—an essential role, I believe—we add complicating layers. By revisiting our stories and reflecting on them, we can potentially affect the memories.

Sanders considers these layers and revisions and the tricks they can play on us. That visit of his to the tiny dot on the map known as Wayland represented the challenge of those layers:

There is more to be seen at any crossroads than one can see in a lifetime of looking. My return visit to Wayland was less than two hours long. Once again several hundred miles distant from that place, back here in my home ground making this model from slippery words, I cannot be sure where the pressure of mind has warped the surface of things. If you were to go there, you would not find every detail exactly as I have described it. How could you, bearing as you do a past quite different from mine? No doubt my memory, welling up through these lines, has played tricks with time and space…certain moments in one’s life cast their influence forward over all the moments that follow. My encounters in Wayland shaped me first as I lived through them, then again as I recalled them during my visit, and now as I write them down. That is of course why I write them down. The self is a fiction. I make up the story of myself with scraps of memory, sensation, reading, and hearsay. It is a tale I whisper against the dark. Only in rare moments of luck or courage do I hush, forget myself entirely, and listen to the silence that precedes and surrounds and follows all speech. (192-193)

It’s a bold statement to say that “the self is a fiction.” Is he right? Do we add to our story? Do we forget? Are we gently fabricating the self that we are, by telling ourselves a version of our past that makes the most sense, or sounds the best?

Do we fictionalize ourselves to the point of believing ourselves to have been far better, stronger, gentler, wiser, and funnier than witnesses would attest?

Or do we beat up on ourselves by fictionalizing and believing ourselves to have been far worse, weaker, harsher and more naive and blundering than witnesses would attest?

How can we revisit memories and tell our stories and understand ourselves in a way that is true, even if not 100 percent accurate?

Because who I am becoming flows out of who I have been. As a self, I would like to know the truth; as a storyteller, I would like to tell the truth.

All in order to continue becoming.

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Previous posts that discuss the book Staying Put:

Curiosity Journal: Geography of the Mind, Birdfeeders, Sarah Kay on Story and Mini Flash Mob

Curiosity Journal: Staying Put, Christmas Decor and Advent

Curiosity Journal: Extinct Green Parakeet, Puny Petunia, and First Snow

Curiosity Journal: November 16, 2011Curiosity Journal: November 9, 2011

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Note: This book is a title that I bought with my own money and selected from my personal library to read, enjoy and share briefly with you here. I was not compensated in any way by anyone nor did the publisher or author provide me with a complimentary review copy. My “reading” posts are not intended to be reviews; instead, I generally compose personal responses to passages from books I’m reading, focusing on the portions that I enjoy and pretty much ignoring sections with which I neither agree nor connect.Credits: all images by Ann Kroeker, all rights reserved.

Sanders, Scott Russell. Staying Put: Making a Home in a Restless World. Boston: Beacon Press, 1993. Print. (Amazon Associates Link)

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The post Who We Are Becoming appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

“this is a pen,” “this is a rose,” “this is a card.” It is assumed that the pen must be recognized as a pen so that a person can get on with the business of writing…What if a number of ordinary household objects were introduced to a child in a conditional way: “This could be a screwdriver, a fork, a sheet, a magnifying class”? Would that child be more fit for survival on a desert island (when the fork and screwdriver could double as tent pegs for the sheet, near a fire made by the magnifying glass)? (Langer 124)

I didn’t have to teach my kids that a pen was only a pen or a magnifying glass was only used to look at items up close. They quickly realized they could use a capped pen as a DS stylus and a magnifying glass to catch the sun and burn a hole in a piece of paper. When my kids were little, I would find pieces from board games mingling with Playmobil and money from Monopoly in a cash register that they used to play “store.” It drove me crazy; the banker was always short of money when playing Life and we never did locate all the jewelry from Pretty Pretty Princess when they merged it with their dress-up collection.But they were learning to make-do and solve problems. I sometimes wish I’d insisted they leave the board games intact, but I would soften as I watched them think—literally—outside the box, making new associations and spotting creative uses for all those plastic bits and pieces.Years ago, our friends had a cool set of nylon tunnels that could flip open for little kids to crawl through.After visiting their house and rolling around in those tunnels, our kids remarked that they’d love to have some tunnels, too. We didn’t buy any. Instead, our kids used clothespins to attach sheets to the couch and chairs for a makeshift tunnel that later morphed into a fort filled with pillows.They did so because they knew that big piece of material could be a sheet.Or it could be a tunnel.Or it could be a fort.Or it could be a cape. Or a toga. Or a cover for the bird cage. Or a tablecloth for the picnic table. Or an ocean for stuffed animals to sail across.

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I’m linking to The High Calling Book Club this week, as they work their way through Mindfulness, by Ellen Langer.Credits: Forks and clothespins by Ann Kroeker. Milk Crates Stacked by limonada (Emilie Eagan), used with permission.

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The post Could Be appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

By the time I was 13 or 14 years old, I realized the children’s department couldn’t provide the depth of information I craved. Shyly, I began browsing the adult nonfiction shelves for exercise books, vegetarian cookbooks, step-by-step drawing tutorials, and a series that taught survival skills, in case I ever acted on my dream of living by myself in the woods, like the kid in My Side of the Mountain.

One afternoon I glanced through books on writing. A title caught my eye: Write to Discover Yourself.

I looked both ways and plucked it from the shelf, running my fingers over the green cover with the fuchsia gerbera daisy poking out of a cup of pencils. It was a little cheesy, but…

Write. Discover.

I desperately wanted to understand myself and unearth who I was meant to become. And deep down, I wanted to write.

Cheeks flushed, heart thumping, I tucked the book under my arm to hide the title from anyone who might question my right to write or ridicule my search for self.I feared my family’s response most of all. In a household of word-people—both parents were journalists and my brother would eventually become an advertising executive—I was the vegetarian runner who asked for art supplies at Christmas. Compared with my family, I had never demonstrated noteworthy writing talent. I lost every game of Scrabble, and at that point, my latest story was about a ladybug in search of a home.

Me? Write?

Yes, I resolved. I would quietly write to “discover myself.”

This became my secret. I retreated to my room, scribbling responses to the author’s writing exercises in spiral-bound notebooks that I would stuff deep into my closet so that no one would peek.

I kept a journal and followed instructions to “portrait” the important people in my life, exploring memories, capturing life.

I sat on the wooden floor of my upstairs bedroom scratching out a word-portrait of my father, struggling to express the way his resonant voice, rising from deep within his barrel chest, could build and fill—even shake—the entire house. Or was it just me, shaking? On page after page of the book, the author encouraged me to continue being specific, to use concrete details and metaphor. On page after page of my notebooks, I poured out stories from my little world.

Digging into yourself requires a depth of honesty that is painful, she said, but imperative (Vaughn 25). She quoted a professor who said that a writer “is the person with his skin off” (24). This is how I began to decipher my life—on the pages of a journal, I wrote with my skin off: bare, raw, vulnerable.

My journalist-parents didn’t write like that, nor did my quick-witted brother. At least, I was pretty sure they didn’t.

Of my family, I alone seemed to practice this private outpouring of words and deeply personal stories that would form a base for future work. With the help of a stumbled-upon writing book, I privately peeled back layers to stare at my heart, my soul. And I began, through practice, through pain, through prayer, the lifelong process of finding myself.

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Work Cited

Vaughn, Ruth. Write to Discover Yourself. Garden City, New York: Doubleday, 1980. Print. (currently out of print)

Note: this post contains affiliate links.

______________________________________

Is your writing life all it can be?

Let this book act as your personal coach, to explore the writing life you already have and the writing life you wish for, and close the gap between the two.

“A genial marriage of practice and theory. For writers new and seasoned. This book is a winner.”

—Phil Gulley, author of Front Porch Tales

The post Write to Discover and Decipher Life appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

Each Wednesday I’m recording a Curiosity Journal, a recap of the past week. Tag words are: reading, playing, learning, reacting and writing.

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Some of you have mentioned that you’re keeping a Curiosity Journal, as well. Leave your link in the comments so that we can visit and enjoy your weekly review.

Reading

Now that home-school classes have begun, I find that I’ll be devoting several chunks of my week to reading and commenting on student papers. With only six kids in High School Composition, however, I can give their work close attention and provide what I hope to be valuable input.In our family, the kids and I are starting to read aloud Anna and the King, by Margaret Landon, and A Praying Life, by Paul E. Miller. We selected Anna and the King because the Belgian Wonder’s great-grandparents were missionaries in Siam and became acquainted with the author (I have yet to sort through those details, but that’s the bottom line). Reading the book seemed like a fun way for my kids to become familiar with a place that is woven into their heritage.

Playing

Soccer season has begun.Some of us play; some of us chat. Some of us snap pictures or cheer; and a lot of us relax and read.

Learning

My son signed up to run with the middle school home-school cross country team this year. Though he’s one of the youngest runners, he said he wanted to try. When those first practices started up in the sweltering weeks of late July, he slipped on his running shoes and shorts, stuck on a cap, and came out to log a few miles with the team.But he’s slow. So slow, in fact, that he’s often passed by people walking. And he complains a lot. And as the season has progressed, he sometimes just quits halfway through the practice and sits on a bench, chatting with the moms.One day, when I was frustrated at his complaining, I told him that there’s a place inside all of us, a spot, that we all have to draw from.”What’s that spot?” he asked.”It’s the ‘I-don’t-want-to-do-it-but-I’ll-do-it-anyway’ spot. You won’t learn about it in anatomy class, and it’s not a very good name—doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue—but it’s a very important spot.”He nodded.”You have to draw from that spot for homework, for chores, and you really have to draw from it for cross country practice.””My spot is reeeeeeeally tiny,” he said.”I know,” I said, nodding. “It’s very small, but it can get bigger. And the great thing is that every time you do something you don’t want to do, it gets a little bit bigger.””It’s just a teeeeny-tiny sesame seed,” he said, holding his finger and thumb together so that they almost touched.”But if you go out and do the whole workout,” I assured him, “the spot will get a little bit bigger, and then the next time you have to do something you don’t want to do, it’ll be a tiny bit easier.””No, it’s a poppyseed,” he interrupted, trying to land on the best metaphor.”So,” I continued, “are you going to finish the workout today without complaining? Because I guarantee you that not one of these runners wants to go out and run two miles in the hot sun, but they’re going to do it anyway, and they aren’t going to complain about it.””Their spots must be huge!” he said.”Not necessarily. But their spots will be a little bigger when they’re done, that’s for sure.”He agreed to finish the workout, and he did it with only minimal complaints. After, he announced, “I think it’s a sesame seed now. It went from a poppyseed to a sesame seed.””That’s progress,” I said. “Good job.”Weeks have passed, and some practices go better than others. The other night, we were running around a track, one hundred meters fast/one hundred meters slow, for a minimum of eight laps. It was tough, but the air temperature was cool and tall trees offered lots of late-afternoon shade. My son did six laps and was threatening to quit. The last few runners were coming in, and the assistant coach was passing out team shirts. I had told my son earlier that if he didn’t do the workouts, he wouldn’t get a shirt.”Am I going to get a shirt, Mama?” he asked as he rounded the curve and came up to where the team was grabbing water bottles and cooling down.I moved close to him, so the others wouldn’t hear. “You’ve done some of the workouts, but remember at the park last week? You just ran a little bit and gave up. So, no. You aren’t putting in enough miles to run a meet, so there’s no reason for you to have a shirt.””I’ll finish the workout tonight! I’ll do two more laps!””You have to do the fast 100s fast. And you’ll have to do every workout between now and the first meet or you won’t be ready.””I’ll do it!” he exclaimed, taking off like a flash. I watched him go around, and he was really working. I realized that up until that night, he’d never really pushed himself; but right then, he was moving along strong. When he completed the final lap, he came in breathing hard, sweating.”Now that was a workout!” I said. “That’s what it feels like to run. You actually look flushed and sweaty, like you pushed yourself.””Can I…get…a shirt?” he asked between intakes of breath.I hesitated, not knowing if he’d done enough to pull off a meet. But there he was in front of me, heart pounding after earnest aerobic effort, walking around a little to cool down. His fast-twitch muscles were probably twitching for the first time, in a good way.Even though the shirts are overpriced, and even though he has a long way to go, I said yes. “Yes, you can have a shirt.”He clapped his hands and the assistant coach handed him an adult small, which was a little bit big, but not too bad. He pulled it on over his T-shirt. When his head popped through, he was grinning big.I was talking with two parents when he strode over and stated, “Tonight, I think the spot inside of me has grown to the size of a volleyball!“Then he skipped back to his sisters.The two moms looked at me funny. I grinned. “I suppose I should explain about the volleyball-sized spot?”

Reacting

The writing class I’m facilitating is going to be challenging at times, but I guess I’m going to draw from that spot inside of me and just do it. My spot’s pretty big, I think. Maybe the size of a soccer ball.

Writing

Though much of my writing has been prep work for the class, my part is mostly done. Now it’s up to the students to do the writing and revision.And I can get back to a writing schedule and rhythm of my own.I’d like to be a more reliable blogger and contribute to The High Calling more often.I did write a little post for Writer…Interrupted about families and scheduling.I’ll leave you with a shot of the soccer fields I mentioned in that piece. This shows the line of trees where the children pick up nuts.

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Credits:Question mark image: “Question Proposed” photo by Ethan Lofton. Used under a Creative Commons license via Flickr.com.”Litchfield Track” by Jamison A. Kissh. Used with permission via Flickr.All other photos copyright 2011 by Ann Kroeker.Note: This post contains Amazon affiliate links.

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The post Curiosity Journal: August 31, 2011 appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

[T]ears streamed from his eyes as he read about ‘The Inconsolable Heartburn…by which the heart looks out astonished at the world and in its loving, wakes and breaks at once.’ This heartburn, Capon says, this sadness for what is not yet here is ultimately a longing for God’s final feast, the supper of the Lamb, when the Host of Creation will set all things right and will do so more beautifully than we can imagine. (Fields 76)

She reflects on this with astonishment:

The created order cries out—I knew that from Romans. Creation groans for further greatness still. Greatness in the kitchen? Greatness as a supper? …As if it were a near-death experience, my life flashed before me … I remembered my first taste of Communion wine at midnight Mass in the Colorado Rockies, my favorite sugar cream pie, and my grandmother’s homemade noodles with chicken. (Fields 76)

Like I said, her writing—her story—left me stunned. I’m not entirely sure why I connected so strongly with her piece, but I’ve continued living with my own food recollections. It seems that each day, scenes flash before me; blurry snapshots from my history with food slowly come into focus:

• Spooning my own grandmother’s noodles over mashed potatoes, starch on starch—forking down serving after serving until my stomach pooched out.
• Attempts at making whole wheat bread, mixed and kneaded by hand as a teenager—each loaf turning out more brick-like than bread-like.
• First taste of sautéed mushrooms prepared by my college roommate when we rented a house together.
• Learning to make my mother-in-law’s roux.
• My first successful crepes.

Harlan’s essay convinced me to order The Supper of the Lamb. She says:

Capon warns in his book that The Supper of the Lamb is a way of life, not merely a recipe that requires eight chapters of diversions to reach a conclusion. I read the book and reread it, as this way of life becomes mine. And I will tell you the truth: I’ve never grown tired of exploring the minute corners of life. I tossed a handful of lettuce seeds into the potted rosemary plan several days ago, and the sprouts stretch green leaves upward, and the anticipation grows. It might not work, but I had the seeds handy, and I was hungry for green things. I am hungry, still. (Fields 79)

I am hungry, too, for green things; for good words and good food; for bread and for truth.The Occasional VegetarianSo I read on. This week’s book club selection included “Tasting the Animal Kingdom,” in which I was taken back to my teens.Like Alissa Herbaly Coons, I committed to vegetarianism around age thirteen. Though my dad raised Black Angus cattle, my parents—Mom in particular—supported my decision. Dad worried that I wouldn’t get the protein I needed, but Mom fixed vegetarian casseroles as a main dish for me and a side dish for the rest of the meat-eating family.At Thanksgiving that year, my beloved grandmother prepared a turkey. I was torn. Should I take a serving to honor her labor of love? Or should I stick to my vegetarian lifestyle?As I smelled the turkey and remembered how it tasted—and as I looked at my grandmother’s beaming smile—I made my decision.I took a serving of Grandma’s turkey savoring forkfuls of dark meat—alongside her noodles, of course—and I gave thanks: for turkeys and family and Grandma. I think she was pleased that I ate it all.And it was very good.These days I’m eating meat, but I’ve been known to suddenly convert back to a plant-based diet again. Each time I transition to or from the vegetarian lifestyle, I find myself appreciating all food, all sustenance, more than I would if I ate without thought and concern.I was touched as I read about Coons’ careful preparation of a chicken all the way to boiling the carcass with vegetables to make stock. A sense of reverence and gratitude flow through her story to the end:

For hours, I boiled the last nutrients out of the chicken, claiming the goodness of its skeleton for myself and for the soups of my future, a small act of faith in my slow reconversion. As I strained the brother and finally discarded the bones, I found the wishbone, whole in the pot, which had slipped unnoticed through my earlier bone breaking. I held it for a moment, and then I left it intact. (Fields 95)

Sitting in my fridge is a container of stock that I made from the turkey carcass at Thanksgiving. I froze it in November, but recently pulled it out to thaw and use in a sauce.With what remains, I will make soup. Vegetable soup.

Join the conversation at TheHighCalling.org.

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Source:The Spirit of Food: 34 Writers on Feasting and Fasting Toward God, edited by Leslie Leyland Fields. Eugene, OR: Cascade Books. 2010.

Photos by Ann Kroeker.

The post The Spirit of Food: Food Heritage and The Occasional Vegetarian appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

Here at the Food on Fridays carnival, any post remotely related to food is welcome—though we love to try new dishes, your post doesn’t have to be a recipe.If you want, you could join the book club at TheHighCalling.org and post your responses to the essays in The Spirit of Food; because, you see, we’re pretty relaxed over here. Posts like that are as welcome as menus and recipes.When your Food on Fridays contribution is ready, just grab the broccoli button (the big one above or smaller option at the bottom) to paste at the top of your post. It ties us together visually.Then link your post using Linky Tools.

Food on Fridays with Ann

For the next few weeks, the Book Club at TheHighCalling.org (THC) is dipping into The Spirit of Food: 34 Writers on Feasting and Fasting toward God, edited by Leslie Leyland Fields.I’ll be joining that discussion, posting at least one response to the reading right here as part of Food on Fridays. It’s a way to write in community with you all regarding food in general and with my friends at THC, when I link up to book club on Mondays.If you’re curious to see how the THC book club works, you can visit our discussion of the first five essays at “What the Earth Gives,” which went live last Monday.This coming Monday, we’ll be discussing the next four essays:

1. “The Heavenly Onion,” by Fr. Robert Farrar Capon (recipe: Scrap Soups and White Stock)
2. “A Way of Loving,” by Stephen and Karen Baldwin (recipe: Basic Pasta)
3. “Go Feed People,” by R. Gary LeBlanc (recipe: Jacmel Jambalaya)
4. “And She Took Flour: Cooking Lessons from Supper of the Lamb,” by Denise Frame Harlan (recipes: I. City Slicker’s First Pot Pie; II. Advanced Real Pot Pie)

I decided to do more than read “The Heavenly Onion.” I decided to live it.

In this excerpt from The Supper of the Lamb, Robert Farrar Capon invites the reader to take an onion (he recommends a yellow onion, but I ended up with a white onion), a paring knife and a cutting board, and sit down at the kitchen table.

I was to acquaint myself with the onion.

Hello, onion.

Yes, it was just me and the onion; the onion and me. Together at the kitchen table.

An occasional child passed through.

“What are you doing with that onion?” one asked.

“I’m getting to know it,” I replied.

The child shrugged and moved on. My kids are used to seeing their mom undertake various experiments for the sake of books, blogs, or just basic curiosity.

So they left me alone to look at my onion as if I’d never seen an onion before. I was to meet it on its own terms—to abandon all of my preconceived notions of what an onion is.

First, I was to notice its two ends: the end where root filaments descended into the earth.

And the upper end, the part that pushes up, defying gravity, seeking light.

Contrary to my preconceived notions, Capon is quick to point out, an onion is not the simple sphere. It is linear, “a bloom of vectors thrusting upward from base to tip.”

With Capon’s encouragement, I’m trying to be generous toward the onion, devoting this kind of time to it; because you see, I’m not all that fond of onions. I can’t digest onions very well. I won’t elaborate, but let’s just say they disagree with me.

But Capon didn’t ask me to eat the onion.

He asked me to see it. Smell it. Examine it.

That, I’m willing to do.

Remove the skins carefully, he instructed. Just the skins. The main pieces come off easily.

The skin is thin, brittle and dry; yet, to borrow Capon’s description, elegant.

Well, except for the little bits that pull off stubbornly. Capon sees incredible beauty in them, but they look a little flimsy and scrappy to me.

I feel them: delicate, but smooth.

I’m still game. I want to see and learn, so I continue.

Next: the cut.

I got a chef’s knife for Christmas, so the cut is fun.

And look at what I’ve done.

He says, “You have opened the floodgates of being…Structurally, the onion is not a ball, but a nested set of fingers within fingers.”

What elegant, fluid lines curve and meet at the top.

Moisture glistens on the cut surface and drips at the base onto the cutting board. “You have cut open no inanimate thing,” Capon says, “but a living tumescent being…the pieces of its being in compression. To prove it, try to fit the two halves of the onion back together.”

“It cannot be done,” he continues. “The faces which began as two plane surfaces…are now mutually convex, and rock against each other.”

He’s right. I can’t push them flat together again. Released from its pressure chamber, the onion is swollen—expanded. There is no turning back.

Next I am to lift out, one by one, the layers.

I line them up, and just as Capon says they will, they look something like Russian church spires.

Or tongues of fire.

They seem firm and solid. If I tap the curve with the flat of my knife, it offers a hollow sound, “something between a tock and a tunk,” as Capon says. I am told to take one of these pieces and slice it into slivers.

Pressing and smooshing out the juice from one of the slivers, I see that the onion is, well, limp. Depleted.

Empty. Finished.

“The flesh, so crisp and solid, turns out to have been an aqueous house of cards…the whole infolded nest of flames was a blaze of water.”

That is the onion, its shapely figure admired, sliced, emptied and better understood; perhaps even appreciated.

I have smelled it (still smell it, in fact, on my fingertips where I pressed liquid from the sliver with my nails). And I have seen that it is different from what I thought. It is more than I thought. I have paid attention, for the most part, and Capon has shown me that I can take more time to “look at the things of the world and to love them for what they are.”

It’s easy to look at an onion and say, “Oh, sure. I know what that is. It’s a round thing.” It takes attention to look at an onion and see it for what it is and, in some way, love it for what it is.

God saw the onion, along with all that He made, and it was very good.

Why don’t I take a closer look and see all that He made?

I have seen one real thing, made by the Creator alone.

And it was very good.

_______________

Source:The Spirit of Food: 34 Writers on Feasting and Fasting Toward God, edited by Leslie Leyland Fields. Eugene, OR: Cascade Books. 2010. (pages 46–54)

Photos by Ann Kroeker

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(smaller button below)

Here at the Food on Fridays carnival, any post remotely related to food is welcome—though we love to try new dishes, your post doesn’t have to be a recipe.If you want, you could simply describe Christmas leftovers and New Year’s Eve snack plans OR join the book club at TheHighCalling.org; because, you see, we’re pretty relaxed over here. Posts like that are as welcome as menus and recipes.When your Food on Fridays contribution is ready, just grab the broccoli button (the big one above or smaller option at the bottom) to paste at the top of your post. It ties us together visually.Then link your post using Linky Tools.

Food on Fridays with Ann

For the next few weeks, the Book Club at TheHighCalling.org (THC) will be dipping into The Spirit of Food: 34 Writers on Feasting and Fasting toward God, edited by Leslie Leyland Fields.

The THC Book Club operates something like a blog carnival, where we read, think, and write in response to what we’ve read, then publish our posts and link up on Mondays over at TheHighCalling.org. Join the conversation not only by visiting participants’ blog posts and publishing your own, but also by commenting at the main site.Because The Spirit of Food is all about food, I decided to publish my own book club posts on Fridays, to share with my Food on Fridays friends. If you find yourself inspired to pick up the book, feel free to jump in at any time and join the conversation.Our Book Club facilitator, Contributing Editor Laura Boggess, asked participants to read the first five essays in preparation for this Monday’s discussion (a recipe from the writer follows each essay):

1. “Wild Fruit,” by Patty Kirk (recipe: Apricot, Chokecherry, and Plum Jams)
2. “Late October Tomatoes,” by Brian Volck (recipe: Spicy Tomato Soup)
3. “The Communion of Saints,” by Jeanne Murray Walker (recipe: Scalloped Potatoes for the Church Potluck)
4. “The Land That Is Us,” by TheHighCalling.org editor Ann Voskamp (recipe: Tangy Glazed Pork Roast)
5. “For a Sweet New Year,” by Margaret Hathaway (recipe: Sweet Raisin Challah)

:::

Though I grew up on a modest farm of forty acres, my dad was not really a farmer. A full-time journalist, he leased out the tillable acres and kept a small herd of Black Angus cattle on the rest. Because Dad was not fully a farmer, I never thought of myself as a farmer’s daughter, even though Dad looked the part when he changed out of his suit and tie and donned his John Deere cap, Carhartt coat and manure-speckled boots.Because I wasn’t fully a farmer’s daughter, I got by being rather lazy when it came to chores. I enjoyed the property, though, playing around the persimmon tree in the back yard, tiptoeing around ripe fruit that thumped to the ground and burst open, oozing pulp onto the ground. We planted a garden most years, and I developed a taste for warm sliced tomatoes eaten plain alongside sweet corn-on-the-cob slathered with butter and coated with salt.I grew hungry for this and more while reading the essays in this section. I craved homemade jam after reading “Wild Fruit” and longed to slice a fresh tomato after reading “Late October Tomatoes.” Oh, how I miss fresh tomatoes this time of year. Reading this book in the dead of winter may prove to be a form of torture, awakening a craving for inaccessible food.When I read “For a Sweet New Year,” I found some relief in the thought that I can bake bread year round. In fact, I resolved to bake bread as soon as possible. I bought more wheat berries some time ago to grind into flour with the little hand grinder we borrowed from a friend. The wheat berries are sitting in a container just waiting to be transformed. I may not be able to pick blackberries in January, or make elderberry jam, but I can bake bread right here and now, even in January; even in my suburban home. Yes, tomorrow I’ll bake bread.Where I lingered longest, though, was with Ann Voskamp’s essay…and not just because she’s a friend. It’s because her prose, like poetry, whispers truth and unsettles the soul. I began to ache a little at the thought that by settling in suburbia, we may have settled for less.Though my dad sold off the cattle several years ago, he still leases the fields to a full-time farmer. Persimmons still fall from the tree in the back yard in summer. And my husband and I wonder sometimes if we should sell our suburban home and move out to the farm. The question Ann poses is one that has haunted us over the years: “How much do I love land?”I don’t know that I love that particular land; it’s just that I could probably have access to it. Dad’s not quite ready to turn the farm over to someone else; yet, if we wanted it, we could probably arrange to tend it. Should we?How much do I love land?The barn and out buildings could use some sprucing up. The fences need work. Are we up to the job?As we wonder, dragging our feet, I’ve been gardening in our back yard plot, where I grow tomatoes and peppers, cucumbers and zucchini.Is that enough?Reading the essays and revisiting the question of land inspired me to snatch up a seed catalog that arrived in the mail. Flipping through, I stopped at photos of apple trees and blackberry bushes. We don’t have the space in our back yard for an orchard. I sighed and looked out at the dormant yard. Unseasonably warm temperatures are melting away the snow to reveal leaves we’d heaped into the garden area. The leaves are contained by bent wire held by green metal fence posts leaning unsteady. I shake my head. We can’t even keep a small back yard garden trim and tidy. How could we repair and rebuild a barn and out buildings and mend fences surrounding 40 acres? How could we manage an entire farm? Perhaps this suburban back yard is all I can handle.Ann ends her piece with the question, “Who will stay and dwell in the land?”I look at the wobbly wire and slanted posts. Not everyone can handle the land.Not everyone will grow acres of grain. Some will buy just a few pounds of wheat berries at a time and bake bread. Not everyone will tend orchards. Some will pay to pick berries and freeze just enough for their families.Not all are called to stay and dwell in the land.But I marked the seed catalog and pulled out a gardening book. We will try to grow kale this year. And chard. Peas and spinach. Basil, tomatoes, peppers, squash. Tomatoes. Corn.For now, we will love this land, right here in this neighborhood cul-de-sac.Come spring, we will straighten fence posts and pull the wire taut.

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Ann’s Ambitious Summer Reading List

I’ve updated the list with the strike-through feature indicating books that I’ve finished reading.

• The Help, by Kathryn Stockett.
• Death by Suburb, by David L. Goetz. Both this book and The Help were recommended to me by multiple people. I decided to pay attention and picked up both, placing them top of the list.
• The Right to Write, by Julia Cameron. This is the High Calling Blogs current book club selection, so I’m working through it, though I’ve only posted about it once.
• Saint Francis, by Nikos Kazantzakis. The only reason this is on the list is because I borrowed it from a friend and need to return it.
• Things Fall Apart, by Chinua Achebe. I need to read this quickly to be ready for a book club discussion I was invited to join.
• Sophie’s World: A Novel About the History of Philosophy, by Jostein Gaarder. One of my sisters-in-law has her doctorate in philosophy. I asked what I might read to get an overview of philosophy, since I know so little—I needed something accessible and interesting. This was her suggestion.
• Total Truth, by Nancy Pearcey. This book comes highly recommended by a worldview instructor I admire. She said this is the one to read if I only read one book about developing a Christian world view.
• The Universe Next Door, by James W. Sire. But I decided to read more than one book on developing a Christian world view, so I’m going to attempt to read this one, too.
• Green Mama, by Tracey Bianchi. Tracey’s stopping by NotSoFastBook.com next week on her blog tour with a guest post, so stay tuned!
• Barbies at Communion, by Marcus Goodyear. My High Calling Blogs colleague (actually, he’s my boss’s boss) has come out with a book of poetry. Be sure to click on the link just to see the cover art.
• God in the Yard, by L.L. Barkat, the same High Calling Blogs colleague (actually, she’s my boss) who recommended I generate this list. God in the Yard is a twelve-week course inviting readers into the days and nights of her daily outdoor solitude.
• Let the Crow’s Feet and Laugh Lines Come, by Dena Dyer, yet another High Calling Blogs colleague with a new book release!
• Miscellaneous. I’m facilitating a writing course in the fall, so I’ll be looking through stacks of material to evaluate what might work well for the students. I’ll be skimming many writing, grammar and reference books—too many to list. Also, I’m researching some topics for possible books I might write in the future. That process has me flipping through numerous related titles, none of which I will read cover to cover. So they don’t count.

My book stack is eagerly awaiting the arrival of the last three titles on my list, but I have plenty of words to consume in the meantime.What’s on your list? (pssst…there’s no better time than the lazy days of summer to read about slowing down in our fast-paced world.)Related:Ann’s A Summer Booklist: What’s Up On the StackThe Camel’s Summer Reading List Ann’s Ambitious Summer Reading List Glynn’s What I’m Reading this Summer L.L.’s A Sort of Summer Reading List Cheryl’s My Summer Reading List is Getting Out of ControlDan’s 7 Fascinating Books (for your summer reading list)Charity’s Summer is Time for…Reading?Heather’s Summer ReadingCheck in at High Calling Blogs on Friday for a round-up of summer reading lists, including a long list that Laura Boggess plans to tackle.

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I’ve discovered a website called Shmoop.com, a place every lifelong learner, autodidact and home educator should explore. I’m particularly grateful for the literature guides they’ve created for lots of famous novels.

• chapter summaries
• themes
• quotes from the book
• character descriptions
• analysis (which includes setting, genre, point of view, tone and plot analysis)
• study questions
• a round-up of the “best of the web” when it comes to additional The Red Badge of Courage or Stephen Crane resources.

Sparknotes and Cliff’s Notes are also valuable teaching resources that I’ve used while preparing to discuss The Red Badge of Courage and other novels with the class. But Shmoop’s fun and lively personality makes me feel like I’m talking with a friend from a book club—a really smart friend who has done great research.If you are looking for a study guide to use with students—something they can fill out as they read—Glencoe published a helpful The Red Badge of Courage study guide. Also, Hewitt Homeschooling has a literature series called Lightning Lit. One of the samples they provide to give you a taste of their study guide format happens to be a section on The Red Badge of Courage. Click here to view. I liked that they used Crane’s writing to introduce a lesson on the power of descriptive writing.If you don’t have a copy of The Red Badge of Courage, you can read it online several places:

• About.com
• The Literature Page
• Page by Page Books
• The Literature Network
• Carnegie Mellon University
• University of Virginia

Finally, John Huston made a film of the book in 1951, starring Audie Murphy as Henry Fleming.This following trailer gives you a taste of the movie in a vintage style (though the clips include battle scenes).[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TNLOXYY17PQ]As you continue exploring classics, consider swinging by Shmoop for a quick overview. With their input, I enjoyed and appreciated The Red Badge of Courage on a deeper level than I would have on my own.Visit my other Explore the Classics post: The Scarlet Letter (a pre-Shmoop overview)

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Here at the Food on Fridays carnival, any post remotely related to food is welcome—your link could be a recipe like your favorite Colts blue Superbowl party dip, but it does not have to be a recipe. If it’s about shopping at Trader Joe’s or your review of “Julie & Julia,” go ahead and link up! Think of it as a virtual pitch-in where you can sample what everyone brings and have a great time.When your Food on Fridays contribution is ready, just grab the broccoli button (the big one above or smaller option at the bottom) to paste at the top of your post and join us through Mr. Linky.Here’s a Mr. Linky tutorial:

Write up a post, publish, then return here and click on Mr. Linky below. A screen will pop up where you can type in your blog name and paste in the url to your own Food on Fridays post (give us the exact link to your Food on Fridays page, not just the link to your blog).You can also visit other people’s posts by clicking on Mr. Linky and then clicking participants’ names–you should be taken straight to their posts.Please note: I return when possible during the day and update this post by hand to include a list of the links provided via Mr. Linky. If I can’t get to the computer to do so, you may access them all by clicking on the Mister Linky logo.

Food on Fridays Participants

Food on Fridays with Ann

Today I want to introduce you to my friend L.L. Barkat. We met at the 2008 Festival of Faith & Writing, where we sat in the spring sunshine munching our pre-ordered box lunches and talked about writing, publishing, editors and agents. Little did I know that a year or so later, she would contact me in her role as Managing Editor at HighCallingBlogs (HCB) to ask me to serve as a volunteer contributor and later as a Content Editor. It’s been a privilege and pleasure following her work online, reading her published works, and now working with her through HCB.Ann: L.L., first off, what’s your all-time favorite recipe? Will you share it with Food on Fridays readers?LL Barkat: I have so many favorites! Here’s a Greek recipe I love. If you prefer to make it with beef, that can work too. But I’m a veggie girl, so…Greek Roasted Vegetables and ChickpeasAdd all to a large rectangular casserole dish and cover with aluminum foil. Roast at 400 degrees for about 2 hours or until very tender. Remove foil, lower heat to 350 and roast for another 15 minutes or until nicely browned…• assorted vegetables chopped chunky, such as turnip, carrot, potato, celery, red onion• 1 can or 1 1/2 cups dry and pre-cooked chickpeas (or 1 lb. beef if you prefer, sautéed first until brown)• 1 TB balsamic vinegar• 1 TB worcestershire sauce• 4 large garlic, minced• 1/2 jar Muir Glen Sauce• 1 TB Muir Glen tomato paste• 1 tsp. cinnamon• 1/2 tsp. nutmeg• 1/2 tsp. allspice• 1/2 tsp. ground clove• 1/4 cup red wine• a few pours olive oil• 2 cups water (add more as needed throughout, for desired sauce consistency)Finish…Add salt and pepper to taste and a few pours of olive oil. Mix in a handful or two of raisins.Serve over any kind of flat noodle, with salad or other green vegetable. The rich spices are an excellent complement to the mild flavor of chickpeas.Ann: Mmmm….I’ll bet the kitchen smells great while it’s roasting. Well, now that we’re off to a delicious start, let’s talk a little about HCB and your role as Managing Editor. Your Post “5 Things a Blog Network Can Do for You”  is a great overview of HCB. How would you describe your Managing Editor role?LL Barkat: It is my absolute dream job. I get to be social, strategize, write, host Twitter parties, go to conferences, work with Editors. Wow! I love it.The cool thing is that it happened because I started by volunteering, and then HCB entered a time of expansion and new funding (which, btw, should still be a trend going into next year, so HCB is a good place to watch for opportunities).Ann: How you do all that you do is beyond me—Managing Editor at HCB, keeping up three blogs, raising and educating two beautiful daughters, learning all about social networking trends, writing books and generating poetry—even hosting poetry parties! You lead Random Acts of Poetry at HCB and host poetry jam sessions through @tspoetry. How do you do it all?LL Barkat: Synergy. Everything I do works together. The Twitter parties, for instance, are also something I use to feed Random Acts of Poetry at HCB. And some of my best poems in InsideOut came from material I wrote during the parties. At my Green Inventions blog I process thoughts about education and technology. At Love Notes to Yahweh I think out loud about chapters I’m writing or material that I need to reflect on for talks.After blogging for more than 3 years, I found I had to approach on-line life this way or I’d burn out.Ann: Synergy. I like that. Now, I have to be honest with you, L.L. @tspoetry still  intimidates me a little. I don’t completely understand how it works. Can you explain it to us? And did your Lazy Blogger’s Tuna Casserole post flow from a @tspoetry party?LL Barkat: Oh, the Twitter parties are so much fun. @tspoetry announces the time (which is usually 9:30-10:30 pm EST every other Tuesday night), then we all get on Twitter and write poetry together. @tspoetry gives prompts, which we respond to. But we also lift and turn each other’s words. It’s challenging, hilarious, sometimes poignant. Check out http://tweetspeakpoetry.com/blog for more info on how to come to a party.Casseroles on Twitter! That post you’re referring to was just me keeping myself company on New Year’s Eve. I was cooking and tweeting and suddenly… The Lazy Blogger’s Tuna Casserole.Ann: I think the foodies here at Food on Fridays might be particularly interested in the food posts at Green Inventions, like your vegetarian dishes and The 30-Day Recipes. Any advice on what they should explore?LL Barkat: I’d probably start in the sidebar, at the recipe list. Or… I don’t know. Maybe begin with your favorite bean? Ann: You’re a woman of great spiritual depth and intellectual curiosity. You explore and express ideas, prayer, creativity and faith through words and art (and food!). One avenue is through blogging at Seedlings in Stone and, as you already mentioned, Love Notes to Yahweh and Green Inventions Central. How do each of these blogs capture/reflect some aspect of who you are?LL Barkat: Sometimes people ask me why I have three separate blogs (it’s not very effective for getting the most Google juice ). But the fun is I can be different things to different audiences; yet it’s the same old me. Writing about all the stuff I love: art, food, spiritual practice, writing, technology, education.Ann: Your book Stone Crossings was recently released when we met at that Festival. You’ve also recently released a book of poetry with International Arts Movement, Inside Out. In keeping with the food theme, would you share “Page 5,” the poem on p. 100-101? I’ll leave my readers with your words.LL Barkat: How delightful. Sure, here it is…Page 5The menusays strawberryshortcakewith whipped creambut here’s the deal:I remember what’s real,my mother’s child-smallhands turning floursugar, shorteningthe “size of a big egg”so the old recipeinstructed. I remembersun-kissed fields offurrows, hills mygrandmother’s roughpatched yet paintedhands turned and raisedto grow strawberries blushedand bleeding real juice,not perfumed waterthat pretends ripenesscut and strewn over too-sweet cake. I remembercream, real, whipped.

“Greek Roasted Vegetables” photo © 2007 by LL Barkat. Used with permission.

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LL: I remember meeting you at the Calvin festival. I was walking through the breezeway, and from a distance, I saw this cool looking person peering at me inquisitively. It was you! We officially met moments later, then spent a lunchtime together chatting forever. Remember?Ann: How could I forget how gracious you were after I practically stalked you! I knew you through blogging communities and writing networks online, but we’d never officially interacted. So when I saw your book, Stone Crossings, for sale at the InterVarsity Press table at the Calvin festival, I asked the staff if you were attending. They said you were, and I thought, “Hey, here’s a chance to meet that smart LL Barkat.” Yes, I really thought that, because I admired your clever, intelligent comments and your beautiful yet accessible poetry.I asked what you looked like, since I’d never seen a photo of you. They described you, so I spent the rest of the day looking for someone who fit that description. When I spotted you down that breezeway, you looked like a promising candidate. I was staring at you, waiting until you got close enough so that I could read your name tag. You must have been thinking, “Am I about to be accosted?”Instead of running or calling security, you were poised and gracious; and when I explained myself, you invited me to join you for lunch! We packed a lot into that lunch break. I think we talked about books we were reading, books we were writing, publishing, agents, bloggers and blogging. And shoes. We discussed our shoes…

Speaking of shoes, here they are:

I’d love to share this interview with you in its entirety. Would you mind popping over to L.L.’s Green Inventions blog to read it?

Click HERE.

Photo of L.L. Barkat’s and my shoes by L.L. Barkat. Used with permission.

Mega Memory Month January 2010 has returned!

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The Scarlet Letter was my first book to try to organize existing materials. While there are many outstanding resources, and a trained teacher with years of experience would have much more insight than I, here is what I pulled together:

• Study Guide: For accountability and to check comprehension, I try to find a study guide for each book that the students must fill out as they read. We only meet once a week, so if they can’t figure out what’s important to note in the assigned chapters, they could be lost for days before we clear it up in class discussion. I used this Glencoe study guide that I found online, picking and choosing the activities (they had to complete the questions, but I skipped or modified some of the activities).
• Skit: Based on some feedback I got via e-mail, I got the feeling the students didn’t understand what was happening in “The Custom House” and the first few chapters of the book, so I brought in a construction paper “A,” a fake flower, and a big piece of cardboard. I had the students act out the basics of “The Custom House,” having the Nathaniel Hawthorne/Narrator discover the “A” among the papers. Then we switched to the story itself and someone held the cardboard to be the prison door. Someone else held the flower to be the rose bush. And we talked about the symbolism after they acted it out. I ran around sort of giving instructions and offering a sketchy narration, walking them through the first few events. The book has quite a dramatic opening, but I think its impact and drama can get lost in the difficult vocabulary. For a few minutes, I wanted them to experience the story without sifting through the words.
• Pillory: I found a great photo of a pillory online so they could envision where Hester was standing for her public humiliation. A quick search should turn up examples.
• Journal: The students are required to keep a reading journal, one entry per school day (a minimum of five sentences per entry; yes, I’ve had to count). I check these to be sure they are tracking. They are asked to be responding to their reading in some way—I wanted them to have a safe place to talk freely about the books. I could probably do better at creating some vision for the journals. Some of them don’t seem to grasp the potential of recording their responses and struggle to fill an entry.
• Vocabulary: The study guide provided some vocabulary lists. I used those.
• Quizzes: Most of the quizzes were vocabulary quizzes, since there are so many challenging words in The Scarlet Letter. I had my dictionary next to me the entire time I was reading the book. I should probably try to design them SAT-style, but I haven’t yet; the quizzes have been straightforward, matching the definition to the word.
• Study Resources: I referenced SparkNotes to see what those guides had to say.
• Story Chart: I used a story chart for them to identify key events and people in the book.
• Test: I created the test by modifying the quizzes found at this page. I deleted some questions, changed some of the answers, and added more multiple choice along with some short answer. Some of the questions included the definition of “plot,” “theme,” and “conflict,” which we talked about in class. They also had to answer two short essay questions: (1) “How do guilt, sin and/or shame change Hester, Dimmesdale and Chillingworth?” and (2) “Which character in The Scarlet Letter felt the most alienation? Why do you feel this way?” They were expected to cite at least one passage from the book to support their point(s) as well as talk about plot points or turning points in their own words. They had access to their books for the short essay questions, but not for the multiple-choice/short answer portion.
• Essay Writing: To help the students learn the basics of character analysis, I referenced this and for comparison/contrast essays and sent them to this simple sample essay was annotated to show what worked well. And I really liked this mind map as a tool to help them organize their thoughts and ideas before writing their essay. I took some time one week to walk them through it, though I don’t know if they still reference it.
• Essay Format: To help them learn MLA format, I’ve sent them to the OWL at Purdue.
• Essay Grading: I’ve been using the 6+1 Traits rubric for grading the writing. I like this summary, because it gives me a quick reference while grading that I can also share with the kids, so they can see what I’m looking for.
• Final Project: For their final project, I pulled ideas from Cliff’s Notes. They could choose from the following:

Final Projects

1. Rewrite the forest scene using modern language. (No one chose this.)

2. Write a short story about how the story would be different if Chillingworth’s ship had actually wrecked and he’d never come ashore. (One student wrote a new ending, sort of combining choices 2 and 3, and the result was a charming and much, much happier conclusion for the main characters.)

3. Write a description of Pearl’s future after the novel ends. Does she marry? Have a family? What is her life like? Be sure your choices are consistent with what you know about Pearl and the events at the end of the novel. (One student chose to do this, creatively working in facts from the original story to present a fascinating and detailed summary of Pearl’s future.)

4. Draw a picture or create a collage that shows the relationships among the characters in the story and explain your thinking to the class verbally the week they are turned in and/or on paper. (Most chose this, and the results were outstanding; I couldn’t believe the quality of artwork and fascinating symbolism.)

Read the Book!

You should be able to pick up a copy of The Scarlet Letter at Goodwill and used bookstores, as it is so often assigned in both high school and college—and the students get rid of it when their course is completed. Multiple copies would also be available at the library, along with an abundance of study guides.But you can also read The Scarlet Letter online at many websites. Click around and pick your favorite background, font or navigation from the following sites:

• Page by Page Books
• The Literature Network (posts flashing, annoying ads at the top)
• The Literature Page
• Bartleby (searchable text)
• Project Gutenberg

Enjoy!

If you can use any of these ideas for personal study or with your own family to enrich your reading of this classic of American literature, let me know what you found useful.

Share!

If you find additional resources, I’d love to update and expand this post to include more ideas that deepened a reader’s comprehension and appreciation of The Scarlet Letter.

Stack of books photo by Ann Kroeker. Page from The Scarlet Letter by Ted Cabanes accessed from stock.xchng.

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People frequently ask me if that boy is “The Boy”; that is, my son.I’d like to clear things up here and now:Nope. He’s not my son. He’s not “The Boy.”The Not So Fast boy is, however, going to be a big part of my life. He’ll travel with me to various speaking events. He’ll grace the blog and might be projected onto screens during PowerPoint presentations. His face will be associated with my name for some time.I feel that I should get to know the little guy. We need to bond.So I decided to name him.Here’s where you come in!Enter the “Name That Boy!” contest: Win a copy of Not So Fast!UPDATED: Time’s up for entering the contest. The winner of the random drawing will be announced soon!Yes, that’s right … Help name the Not So Fast boy and win a book (maybe two!).Two ways to win:

1. Suggest a name in the comments to be entered in a drawing—you can suggest more than one name in your comment, but one person is one entry whether you suggest one name for the boy or five (multiple comments by the same person will be considered one). Submit your suggested name until 9:00 Monday morning, August 3.Winner #1 will be selected randomly from those who submitted names.
2. Another way to win a copy of Not So Fast:  I’ll narrow down name suggestions and set up a vote. Vote for the name you think best fits the Not So Fast boy. The person who contributed the winning name will also receive a book!

That’s it.Now, take a long look at the boy.What do you think? What should we name him?

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July 2009 MMM is almost over:Watch for Final Mega Memory Month Projects on July 31.

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• Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin
• The Scarlet Letter – Nathaniel Hawthorne
• Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass
• Up From Slavery – Booker T Washington
• Uncle Tom’s Cabin – Harriet Beecher Stowe
• Huckleberry Finn – Mark Twain
• Little Women – Louisa May Alcott
• To Kill a Mockingbird – Harper Lee
• The Crucible – Arthur Miller

Here are some that I’m reading through to swap out or add to the list (only one or two from below will replace one on the main list or be added):

• History of the Plymouth Plantation – William Bradford
• The Red Badge of Courage – Stephen Crane
• Billy Budd – Herman Melville
• Mama’s Bank Account – Kathryn Forbes
• The Old Man and the Sea – Ernest Hemingway
• A Raisin in the Sun – Lorraine Hansberry
• The Great Gatsby – F. Scott Fitzgerald
• Of Mice and Men – John Steinbeck
• The Chosen – Chaim Potok
• Fahrenheit 451 – Ray Bradbury
• The Call of the Wild (or White Fang) – Jack London
• POETRY: (maybe) The Mentor Book of Great American Poets
• ESSAYS & SHORT STORIES: I am looking into anthologies or a literature book that contains selections.

I’m also looking for a great college prep vocabulary book to use.Any suggestions from y’all?Any great American books appropriate for teens you would recommend? Can you think of some titles missing from this list?

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• Shopping. I rarely shop (except for Goodwill). One time I had to buy a specific piece of clothing for an event and couldn’t believe how much time it took to go from store to store in search of what I needed.
• Hobbies. Writing is my main hobby as well as my ministry. Many activities interest me, like scrapbooking and handwork, but I’ve decided to zero in on just a few things, with writing as my main focus.
• TV. We watch very little television, which frees up a lot of time.
• Exercise. I keep exercise as simple as possible and jog. I like jogging for lots of reasons, one of which is that I can just head out the door and do it. This wouldn’t work for a very social friend of mine who needs people and a class to motivate her, but it works for me. I’m out and back for the duration of the workout without transit time or chit-chat. After a few crunches on an exercise ball and some stretches, I shower and move on.

That list reflects some intentional choices. There is another category of not doing things; it’s called neglect.Yes, I also neglect things; in particular, the house.Now you know.Fortunately, the Belgian Wonder has a pretty high tolerance for clutter and mess. Six of us live under one roof. When I’m not paying attention because I’m editing up a storm, rooms can get out of control faster than you can say “comma splice.”When my deadline passes and I’m back to reclaiming our space, I find myself making resolutions.Scrubbing away at grimy, neglected areas of the bathroom, I resolve to declutter and simplify. It’s almost always top of the list of things that bug me about my life.Clear out the clutter!Toss the junk!Send off stuff!I crave organization and order, but neither of those traits comes naturally.I’ve read almost every book on organization and decluttering out there. You’d think the principles would sink in so deeply that I’d automatically practice them, but I don’t. The house is still cluttered. And I’m still longing for a simpler space to complement my slower pace.A couple of years ago, when I was starting to work on Not So Fast, my editor wrote me a note that she was decluttering all weekend. She said, “I think slowing down and living simply go together. Don’t you?”I do.I do think that living more slowly and living simply are very complementary. When we simplify, I think it’s easier to slow down our pace. And when we slow down our pace, I think we start to see the beauty of simplicity in our schedule, relationships, activities, and space.The most pressing area I need to work on is simplicity of space.So when school is out, my summer goal is to achieve some of my decluttering and organizational goals.Will you hold me to it?Remind me?Hold my hand?Set up and manage an eBay account for me?Pay shipping for boxes of books that I pluck from the shelves to release to the world?Actually, my life is slow enough at the moment, I think I’ll grab a few books right now. Does anyone want:

• Scarlet Feather
• The Mind of Christ
• Chosen by a Horse
• The Book of Guys (hardcover, and a different cover than the Amazon link)
• A Painted House (hardcover)?

If you cover shipping, they’re yours.First come (let me know in comments with an e-mail to contact for arrangements), first served.

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 I’ve been working on my forthcoming book, Not So Fast: Slow-Down Solutions for Frenzied Families, for years. Much of that time, I wasn’t sure what I could say about it here on the blog.In fact, for quite some time, I was evasive. I didn’t know how long it would be before the book’s release, so I didn’t want to post searchable text that described what it was about.As we drew nearer to the release date, I thought I could tell you all about it. Just when I was about to make an announcement, I got the impression from the marketing folks that I should hold off even longer. So I kept quiet. Finally, though, after all those false alarms, I can speak freely.If you’ve been frustrated with me, I want to apologize. I’m very sorry. The problem is due to my uncertainty about the process.However, now that everything’s out in the open, I’m preparing for the August 1st release of Not So Fast: Slow-Down Solutions for Frenzied Families (available for pre-order! Click on the book cover at the left for the Amazon.com link).You can visit the simple WordPress blog I’ve created to serve as a companion site.There, you’ll find Speed Bumps.These are pages with lists of basic ways you can start slowing down in real-life, everyday ways. I grouped them into Mini, Medium, and Mega categories. Some speed bumps are simple as eating with a smaller fork to slow down meals; others are as demanding as planning and planting a garden.You’ll also find links to all kinds of slow-down resources I’ve found online.It’s a place where I’m putting all kinds of links and information about slowing down, simplifying, the “Slow Movement,” downsizing, “Slow Food,” and related topics. If you know of an article, blog, or website that fits in some way, be sure to let me know.There’s also a section called “Supplemental,” where I’m including material and ideas that might have been nice to include in the book, but didn’t fit. Another fun feature is that you can get a sneak peek, a preview of the book, by reading an excerpt that my publisher uploaded to a website called “Scribd.” There, you can read a draft of the Table of Contents, Introduction, and Chapter One (the Foreword wasn’t finished at the time it was loaded).If you’re interested, you can visit NotSoFastBook.com and click on “Sample,” which provides you with the Scribd link. Eagle-eye editors may spot some errors (they’re being fixed before it goes to press), but it’s a way to get a little taste.(If you don’t want to poke around the website, you can save a step and go straight to the sample by clicking here.)Every chapter closes with a story from someone I’ve interviewed or a post from a blogger who composed something that I thought fit well with the subject matter. I call these sections “Live from the Slow Zone.” The story uploaded in the sample is from Ann Voskamp’s Holy Experience. It’s an honor to have her words grace the pages of my book; and pretty humbling, too, as hers flow like poetry, making mine seem clunky and awkward.Some of the other “Live from the Slow Zone” contributors are bloggers like Sara at Walk Slowly, Live Wildly, Rachel Anne at Home Sanctuary, Andrea at Flourishing Mother, and Aimee at Living, Learning and Loving Simply.In addition to the “Live from the Slow Zone” stories and interviews, I’ve also included some practical ideas geared toward families that are in a state of frenzy, rushing around, wondering if the high-speed lifestyle is wise, or worried that it’s impossible to sustain. That section is called “Slow Notes.”If your family is already living more slowly than the rest of the world around you, some of the Slow Notes suggestions may be old news. But for those just starting to experiment with some changes, the ideas are meant to be encouraging and do-able, hopefully with immediate slow-down results.So that’s an overview and sneak peek of Not So Fast!It’s fun to finally be able to share this leg of the journey with you.I’d like to savor it . . . and share it with friends.

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There is a strange idea abroad that in every subject the ancient books should be read only by the professionals, and that the amateur should content himself with the modern books … [I]f the average student wants to find out something about Platonism, the very last thing he thinks of doing is to take a translation of Plato off the library shelf and read the Symposium … The student is half afraid to meet one of the great philosophers face to face. He feels himself inadequate and thinks he will not understand him.

He wrote that one of the areas where this mentality was rampant was in theology. Instead of reading the Gospel of Luke or the letters of Paul, or flipping open St. Ignatius or St. Augustine, readers will turn to someone like, well, C.S. Lewis himself or a contemporary of his like Dorothy Sayers. He pointed out that as an author he of course hopes that readers will some modern books; but if they had to choose between one of the other, he would advise that person to choose the old.

Every age has its own outlook. It is specially good at seeing certain truths and specially liable to make certain mistakes. We all, therefore, need the books that will correct the characteristic mistakes of our own period. And that means the old books … The only palliative is to keep the clean sea breeze of the centuries blowing through our minds, and this can be done only by reading old books.

Do you agree?And do you read that way—new book followed by an old book?

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When you bring God’s Word to others, you must maintain the horizontal and the vertical connection with both them and the Holy Spirit. Pray in your heart for the guidance, insight, and wisdom you need.I will give you a mouth and wisdom, which none of your adversaries will be able to withstand or contradict. (Luke 21:15 RSV)Lord, thank You for Your presence while we work. By ourselves we are too weak, but Your Spirit makes us able.

In His StepsI’d been looking for this book by Charles M. Sheldon (again, the edition I found is a hardbound edition), and the Belgian Wonder reached out for it because it matched the Corrie ten Boom book’s binding. He didn’t know I wanted In His Steps! Apparently this book, written 100 years ago, coined the phrase “What Would Jesus Do?”The Passion of Jesus ChristThis small book by John Piper looks to have a Good Friday/Easter theme, so I bought it to read over the next few days.So, what are you reading these days? Have you picked up any treasures?

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Frenzied families find themselves fragmented in this high-speed, fast-paced, goal-oriented society. Even while racing to second jobs, appointments, lessons, practices, games and clubs, we crave an antidote. How do we counteract the effects of our over-committed culture? Replenish our depleted selves? Restore our rushed relationships?Not So Fast: Slow-Down Solutions for Frenzied Families offers hope to families struggling with hurried hearts and frantic souls. Through stories, practical ideas, insight and research, readers will discover the rejuvenating power of an unrushed life.

I’m imagining the day the book is available to future readers—it still seems kind of far away, but it’ll be here soon enough:The release date is August 1st.We still have to wait a while, but as the author of a book on slowing down, I don’t feel free to complain when things take time.I’m telling you kind of early. In fact, now you’ll have to wait, too.But I wanted you to be among the first to know.

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(CC) Gaetan Lee, www.flickr.com/photos/gaetanlee/

In Write to Discover Yourself, Ruth Vaughn tells about a character named Julia Redfern in a children’s book called A Room Made of Windows. Julia keeps a “Book of Strangenesses” in which she makes lists. Her lists include Beautiful Words (Mediterranean, quiver, undulating, lapis lazuli, Empyrean) and Most Detestable Words (rutabaga, larva, mucus, okra).Ruth Vaughn recommends list-keeping as an excellent exercise (and resource) for writers. A list of Strong Verbs, for example, is handy. To illustrate, she picked up a short-story at random and recorded verbs (echoed, trembled, slammed, hesitated, smashed, roared, reverberated, boomed, and twisted).She suggested taking it another step and recording phrases that inspire. From that same short story, she found, “It brought the silent, motionless silhouettes to life” and “Here and there through the smoke, creeping warily under the shadows of tottering walls, emerged occasional men and women.”In the spirit of Ruth’s recommended list-making and writers loving words, I had a lot of fun assembling a master list of the words you proposed after I posted the Logophile List(s).Words were suggested in the comments, e-mailed to me and a few came through Facebook when I linked to the original logophiles post. Several more come from the text and comments of Musings of a Mommy Bee’s “Word Fun” post. Apparently great minds post alike.Here, my friends, are the results:Words that are fun to say(be sure to read out loud)

• discombobulate
• garbanzo beans
• guacamole
• gregarious
• genuflexing/genuflecting
• asinine
• sequoia
• Iroquois
• yurt
• pip
• hypothalamus
• snaffle
• awkward (because it actually is awkward to say and type)
• pollywog
• sunset
• buff
• squelch
• click
• clack
• zip
• hiss
• toot
• slither
• puff
• blip
• moosh
• splat
• buzz
• woosh
• plop
• fizzle
• zing
• sniff
• slurp
• patter
• splash
• thick
• moist
• cushion
• lackadaisical
• periwinkle
• bulbous
• grunt
• percolate
• dread
• infuriate
• ingratiate
• bouffant
• gallant
• bemoaned
• personage
• flip
• bubble
• mukluk
• blubber
• waffle
• akimbo
• macadamia
• giggle
• beluga
• aspic
• filch
• gazebo
• vivid
• meticulous
• colloquial
• insipid

Words fun when said with a British accent

• bugger
• gutted
• proper

Words that are beautiful to say

• diaphanous
• effervescent/effervescence
• gossamer
• mellifluous
• scintillate
• feathery
• exquisite
• miraculous
• magnificent
• reflective

Words that carry rich meaning

• hallelujah
• prudent

Words that some of us are never quite sure we use correctly

• effect and affect
• inclement and clement
• facetious
• enormity and magnitude

Favorite French Words for English-Speakers

• pamplemousse
• probablement
• pantoufles
• éblouissant
• nuages
• brouillard

Favorite English Words for French-Speakers

• cantaloupe
• jeopardy
• momentum

Words that are Gross to Say (even if they aren’t gross in meaning)

• amoebic ooze
• pus

Words with distinct regional pronunciations

• sore (so-uhr)
• park (pahk–in Boston)
• about (a-boot–in Canada)
• “I love it” (“Ah luuuuuv eee-ut”)

Be inspired—love your language!And if you add words in the comments, I’ll update the lists.My sister-in-law reminded me of the silly song from Flight of the Conchords, “Foux De Fa Fa,” that has a little fun with the vocabulary, phrases and interactions one finds on a typical French language learning CD. Listen for “pamplemousse.”[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FUVagbFcSUU]This is a six-minute video of French singer Francis Cabrel performing “C’est écrit” live in concert back in the ’80s. My sister-in-law gave me a copy of his CD. This song may be the reason I love the words “brouillard” and “nuages.”[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=otqFvrGXP7g]And finally, because I’ve gotten a little carried away on YouTube, here’s a logophile muppet video for your kids titled appropriately, “I Love Words.” Abby Cadabby never met a word she didn’t like and tries out a new word every day. A pretty good message for our young ‘uns, setting them up for a lifetime of loving words (brace yourself, moms–her voice is similar to Elmo’s):p.s. She, too, throws a couple of favorite French words into the mix.[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AxxJU1y3QGA]Speaking of words. . .visit again tomorrow for an update on the status of my book.

The post Long-Awaited Logophile Lists appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

• One Year Bible online. You can choose the One Year Bible or the One Year Chronological Bible (left column). There’s a spot to select your preferred translation. Also on the left column, you can scroll down and click on the month. Then pick the date. It pulls up the readings for the day.
• Divine Hours online. At the link provided, you’re asked to select your time zone. Once you click on yours, the reading of that day and hour pops up. By the way, I can’t vouch for anything else on this site, and every once in a while there will be a poem or reading that makes me scratch my head. But the passages are powerful, simple words from Scripture. Those, along with hymns and biblically based prayers serve as “checkpoints” throughout the day–morning, noon, evening, and night.
• My Utmost for His Highest online. Each day’s reading pops up automatically, and archives are available on the left by clicking on whatever day you wish.
• Many more devotionals are available at One Place.com.
• Elisabeth Elliot’s are here.
• Other classics available at that same site include selections from Warren Wiersbe, Streams in the Desert, and Charles Spurgeon.
• UPDATED (from suggestions in comments): A.W. Tozer 1 and A.W. Tozer 2, and Daily Light on the Daily Path (providing a brief selection for both morning and evening)

I’m enjoying the practicality and convenience of both online and book versions of devotionals. Would that work for you? Are you an online devotional reader, or are you strictly a printed page person?For more WFMW ideas, hop over to Rocks In My Dryer.

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Jennifer at Scraps and Snippets posted about Lifelong Learning at her blog, citing a 2006 article by Harvey Mackay packed with statistics to make an autodidact sprint to her bookcase and grab anything within reach:

• Only 14 percent of adults with a grade-school education read literature in 2002.
• 51 percent of the American population never reads a book more than 400 pages after they complete their formal education.
• 73 percent of all books in libraries are never checked out.
• The average American watches 32 hours of TV every week.
• The average American reads only eight hours (books, newspapers, magazines, Yellow Pages, etc.) every week.
• The average American annually spends 10 times more on what he puts on his head than what he puts into his head.

Consider the following:

• If you read just one book per month for 12 straight months, you will be in the top 25 percentile of all intellectuals in the world!
• If you read five books on one subject, you are one of the world’s foremost leading authorities on that subject!
• If you read just 15 minutes a day — every day, for one year — you can complete 20 books!

The idea of becoming an expert by focusing one’s reading on a single subject reminds me of a post I wrote about lifelong learning and Five Fat Files. In it, I referenced an online article on brain research that included a statement attributed to Albert Einstein:

Einstein said that if a person studies a subject for just 15 minutes a day in a year he will be an expert, and in five years he may be a national expert.

Literary agent Terry Whalin used those same statistics from the Mackay article to encourage writers to read regularly.

With these statistics, it is little wonder that parts of the publishing business are struggling (and even predicting the struggle will continue for some.)If you want to be involved in some aspect of publishing (books or magazine writing where your work appears in print), then you need to be committed to reading on a regular basis. It’s important to take in great information through reading. The experience will fill your mind and heart with something important which will influence your writing. Create a habit of reading.

So. After pondering the statistics and recommendations, I’m feeling positively brilliant for having read a few books in the past couple of months.

Just last weekend I finished Francine Rivers’ Redeeming Love.

The kids and I are reading Swiss Family Robinson (read online for free) and listening to The Five Little Peppers and How They Grew on tape (also available online for free).

I also did a quick-read of So Sexy So Soon: The New Sexualized Childhood and What Parents Can Do to Protect Their Kids and almost finished a short book by N.T. Wright entitled Who Was Jesus?

According to Mackay, I’m on track to being “in the top 25 percentile of all intellectuals in the world!”

It’s easy if we follow Mackay’s claim that reading just 15 minutes a day—every day, for one year—we can complete 20 books.

Just fifteen minutes a day.

I’m going to grab that book by Wright and finish it up. But before I head off, I’d like to pose two simple questions and hope that our answers will demonstrate that the blogging world can throw off Mackay’s dismal statistics:

What have you read recently…and what do you plan to read?

The post Just Fifteen Minutes a Day: Ready…Set…Read! appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

What those parents didn’t understand was that parenting is an inside-out phenomenon. What is inside us flows out into our children. We can implement formulas, tell all the right stories, do the required amount of family devotions, and still be imparting exactly the opposite of what we teach. If our outsides (what we say) don’t match the insides (how we act or really feel), our children will detect the difference and will act accordingly….The best method for parenting in a postmodern context is to be real, to share struggles, to show how you run to Jesus when disappointment strikes. Parenting, boiled down to its essence, is modeling.

Mary is a reader, a thinker, and a writer, and while I suspect she’s done a lot more of all three than I have, I do share her interest in reading, thinking, and writing, so I paid attention when she admitted her own concern about losing the heart and simplicity of devotion to Christ to those kinds of pursuits especially in the enthusiastic discussions about postmodernity. She explains:

I’m a thinker. I enjoy discourse. But I wonder whether we are forgetting this verse in our intellectual meanderings about truth: “But I am afraid that just as Eve was deceived by the serpent’s cunning, your minds may somehow be led astray from your sincere and pure devotion to Christ” (2 Corinthians 11:3).The serpent has a way with words. He is able to sway minds. He rallies against simplicity and purity of devotion. And all the while we write and talk and parent, using words but not living them out…Jesus is a person. He is more than mind. He is even more than words. Perhaps we do Him a disservice if we allow our minds to intellectualize everything. I preach this to myself. I love words, making a living from them. But I don’t want to be led astray from the simplicity and purity of devotion to Jesus.

She talks about having an ongoing conversation with our kids.She talks about “coaching” them.She also talks about how children help us to slow down, and relates the way their Norweigan friend Frode would walk his kids to school in France:

I run my children to school. Literally. We skip and run and walk very briskly because, well, that’s what we do. We are hurried.But Frode takes time. He talks to his kids. He meanders. He lingers. He is patient.While I rush my children.As I walked (briskly) home after seeing patient Frode, the Lord spoke to me about slowing down, about productivity, about my connectivity with Him…I sensed God whisper, “You know, it’s not how quickly you accomplish tasks in a day that matters to me. It’s you I want. Whether you’re slow or fast. Whether you get ten things or no things done. I love you. Period….Your day is not a to-do list. I don’t look at the tally at the end of the day and either nod in approval or sneer in rebuke. I want to be connected to you.”

She talks about being there for your kids with your focused attention, limiting media, getting kids outside to play, cherishing childhood, reading together, and laughing. In one chapter, she talks about going outside and seeing God in nature, taking art field trips and making art journals, telling stories and enjoying music.Mary is a storyteller, so the book is filled with stories of her own family, stories she’s gleaned from friends, and it’s even bookended with a story to get us thinking about what it means to prepare our child for the world they will one day step into as adults…will we have equipped them with all the best tools and resources?Mary offers us what she has gained from conversations and study of this postmodern world, hoping to give us things to think about–and implement–as we parent our kids. And hopefully, by the grace of God, we will equip our children well for the postmodern world.The key being to recognize for ourselves–and live out alongside our kids–that Jesus is what it’s all about.

The post Authentic Parenting in a Postmodern Culture appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

• Laughter from upstairs. Two children putting dresses on stuffed animals.
• Neighborhood swimming pool. Having one’s own pool sounds like a lot of fun, but sharing the cost with neighbors and knowing there are lifeguards on duty is a mighty fine alternative.
• Books, books, books! Whether I’m enjoying the story of a fiction book or ideas and information from nonfiction, I’m grateful for books…and for the people who write and publish them.
• Blogs. What did we bloggers do before there were blogs? I guess we journaled. Or we just kept all of those words bottled up inside {shudder}.
• Modern Medicine. Eleven years ago, Belgian doctors accurately diagnosed and operated on The Belgian Wonder, saving his life after his aortic valve was destroyed by a bacterial infection. Today, strangely, his brother-in-law is in the same Belgian hospital, while doctors treat a dangerous infection in his leg. We also await the outcome of a friend’s cancer treatment. As we wait and pray, we’re grateful that God has allowed for advances in antibiotics and other technology and medicines–some of the many means by which surgeons and doctors can treat illness and disease.
• Dishwasher. Although we could live without a dishwasher and wash our plates and cups by hand, I’m still grateful to have the helping hand of our machine. We were able to find a water- and energy-efficient model, reducing my guilt at the frequent loading and unloading we deal with some days.
• Washing Machine. While we could certainly wash dishes by hand, I shudder to imagine washing clothes by hand. I know it can be done and was done for millenia and is done in other countries even now, but wow. I guess I’m a spoiled, soft, American housewife. The thought of washing by hand–such a lot of work! I’m so grateful to be able to run the clothes through the machine (which also happens to be an energy- and water-efficient model, by the way).
• Clothesline. I really like hanging clothes to dry during the summer months. We’ve strung a clothesline between a tree and the swingset, and I can hang up three loads a day if I need to. I love heading out there with the basket loaded down, our happy dog padding along beside me and flopping down to chew on a stick while I clip our T-shirts and shorts onto the line. It’s quiet. I ponder and pray.
• Bibles. The fact that I can use the plural to write that word is something to be grateful for. In some countries, to have a complete copy of the book of John to study would be marvelous. I have all 66 books of the Bible in more than one version! I have my main Bible, and another that is broken down into portions to read through in a year. And I have a small one that was a gift to me years ago that can fit in a purse. And I have the King James version I bought for myself when I was in junior high. And the Living Bible that I bought after I didn’t understand the King James. So many translations to choose from–all in my own home. I am so thankful to have such extravagant access to the written word of God. I should be poring over it.
• Food. Following news of the global food crisis leaves me grateful to have enough money to buy supplies at the grocery. 
• Goodwill. The store, as well as the attitude. The Goodwill store has been the first place I stop when we’re interested in shopping for clothes or household items. Sometimes we turn up a single blouse or an interesting tray for the kitchen. However, every once in a while, we hit the jackpot. So, whoever donated the queen-sized purple Pottery Barn crinkle puff bedspread–I could kiss you! Thanks, also, for the coordinating summer-weight quilt. And the purple floor lamp. You helped me affordably redecorate the shared bedroom of two girls who longed for that exact quilt.
• All that I need for life and godliness. A friend of mine reminded me of this verse found in 2 Peter (1:3): “His divine power has given us everything we need for life and godliness through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness.” It’s been so true that just at the right time I’ll be given some word or some reminder that will answer the cry of my heart or a deep questioning of my soul. His divine power has given me everything I need for life and godliness…through my knowledge of Him. 

It’s a good exercise, to stop and be thankful. To turn to the Giver of all good gifts and give thanks.Merci beaucoups, mon Dieu, L’Eternel, Seigneur Jesus.For more thankfulness overflowing on the Internet, visit Sting My Heart.

The post Thankful Thursday appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

• A youthful Pat Robertson interviews Corrie in 1974 (interspersed with a few short clips from “The Hiding Place” movie). It’s so neat to see and hear her.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=038cuYe3Nis]

• A woman posted a very short video shot from inside the Hiding Place in Corrie’s house. You’ll feel like you yourself have climbed inside and lowered the secret door.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vLnfRt03rkU&feature=related]

• This is a video slide-show someone uploaded with snapshots similar to mine. Complete with dramatic music and a bit of footage from the film as an intro. A little hokey, but it shows you the place.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L8K6jxHjf04&feature=related]

• Photos from the museum are available to view on the Corrie Ten Boom official website (glare-free!).
• A short bio and excerpt of a Guideposts article available from PBS in a series “The Question of God.”
• Of course, I highly recommend reading Corrie’s book, The Hiding Place.
• Download actual messages/sermons delivered by Corrie ten Boom herself (in MP3 format) at this site. It’s very cool, and it’s free. I tried it.
• Lots of excerpts from Corrie’s writings here.
• Wikipedia has her bio and info (including a few more links).
• Haarlem website with a nice bio.
• Someday I need to buy a DVD of the film, “The Hiding Place.” The Belgian Wonder saw it when he was young and said it impacted him deeply. “It stays with you for life,” he said.

It worked well for me this week to find all of this, as I’ve been thinking about her a lot lately. So my Works For Me Wednesday tip is that thanks to technology, I can dig deep into the Internet when I want to know more about something. And then I can share the wealth.Enjoy learning more about Corrie ten Boom.Return to Rocks In My Dryer by clicking here.Visit the archived Ann Kroeker WFMW tip-collection here.

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“As the media theorist Marshall McLuhan pointed out in the 1960s, media are not just passive channels of information. They supply the stuff of thought, but they also shape the process of thought. And what the Net seems to be doing is chipping away my capacity for concentration and contemplation. Once I was a scuba diver in the sea of words. Now I zip along the surface like a guy on a Jet Ski.” (p. 57)

It reminds me of Neil Postman’s book Amusing Ourselves to Death: Public Discourse in the Age of Discourse, which was written before the Internet had such widespread influence.Carr says that his literary-type friends are also having trouble staying focused on long pieces of writing. One blogger who was a lit major used to read books voraciously, but wonders–even worries–if not only the way he reads has changed, but also the way he thinks?Another guy admitted that he now has “almost totally lost the ability to read and absorb a longish article on the web or in print.” And another wrote, “Even a blog post of more than three or four paragraphs is too much to absorb. I skim it.”Looks like I would have already lost him by now, were he reading this post.Carr quotes Maryanne Wolf, author of Proust and the Squid, saying that she:

worries that the style of reading promoted by the Net, a style that puts “efficiency” and “immediacy” above all else, may be weakening our capacity for the kind of deep reading that emerged when an earlier technology, the printing press, made long and complex works of prose commonplace…Our ability to interpret text, to make the rich mental connections that form when we read deeply and without distraction, remains largely disengaged. (p. 58).

Is Carr right? Are we as a society or even worldwide losing the focus of slow, attentive reading?The article warns:

 Never has a communications system played so many roles in our lives–or exerted such broad influence over our thoughts–as the Internet does today. Yet, for all that’s been written about the Net, there’s been little consideration of how, exactly, it’s reprogramming us. (p. 60)

Carr talks about Google’s goals as a company, and described the company founders’ desire to turn their search engine into an artificial intelligence that might even be connected to our brains. He quoted one of the two founders, Larry Page. “The ultimate search engine is something as smart as people–or smarter.” And then the scariest quote of all:

Certainly if you had all the world’s information directly attached to your brain, or an artificial brain that was smarter than your brain, you’d be better off.

According to Carr, Page said that in a 2004 interview with Newsweek. He really did.Is nobody nervous about that?I’m telling you, that is the stuff of science fiction novels, people. And yet, it’s not scary or uncomfortable at all to a generation of kids growing up with avatars and second lives online. It would seem like a perfectly normal progression to stick a contraption on one’s head and gain access to all kinds of information simply by thinking a question–and getting immediate answers. No need to study for tests anymore, or store up information in one’s head. It’s all right there in a gadget. What’s weird about that?, our children will wonder. They’ll shake their heads and make fun of their old-fashioned parents, so “out of it.””They don’t get it. We don’t need school anymore–we have artificial intelligence. Right here at our fingertips.”I’m not even dreaming this up, because I hear kids say this already. “Why would I need to memorize anything? I just Google it and get all the information I need.”Maybe I am an old fogey, but I’m with Carr:

[Google’s] easy assumption that we’d all ‘be better off’ if our brains were supplemented, or even replaced, by an artificial intelligence is unsettling…In Google’s world, the world we enter when we go online, there’s little place for the fuzziness of contemplation. Ambiguity is not an opening for insight but a bug to be fixed. The human brain is just an outdated computer that needs a faster processor and a bigger hard drive. (p. 62, 63)

In my world, contemplation is something to be practiced and developed, not lost; and my brain is something to be exercised and developed, not supplanted. The computer and search engines are tools at my disposal, not a substitute for learning and thinking on my own.What kinds of mental disciplines should we put into place in our lives to fight this?How can we slow down as we recall how to read deeply and start practicing it?What shall we change about our reading in order to focus on one article long enough to absorb it, understand it, consider its premise and argument, and then talk with someone else about it?How can we keep from clicking away and skimming and clicking away again?How can we learn? Think? Truly read?This speed-reading is affecting our ability to study, stick with, and (with the aid of the Spirit) comprehend God’s Word.Which will affect, in turn, our prayer life.Our minds will be fickle and flit from thought to thought, always looking for the next quippy quote that takes little time to “get.”We must pray more slowly, read more slowly.To do so, we may need to live more slowly.If I may finish with a more secular thought from that article, here’s something else Carr wrote:

The kind of deep reading that a sequence of printed pages promotes is valuable not just for the knowledge we acquire from the author’s words but for the intellectual vibrations those words set off within our own minds. In the quiet spaces opened up by the sustained, undistracted reading of a book, or by any other act of contemplation, for that matter, we make our own associations, draw our own inferences and analogies, foster our own ideas. Deep reading, as Maryanne Wolf argues, is indistinguishable from deep thinking.If we lose those quiet spaces, or fill them up with “content,” we will sacrifice something important not only in our selves but in our culture. In a recent essay, the playwright Richard Foreman eloquently described what’s at stake:              I come from a tradition of Western culture, in which the ideal (my ideal) was the complex, dense and “cathedral-like” structure of the highly educated and articulate personality—a man or woman who carried inside themselves a personally constructed and unique version of the entire heritage of the West. [But now] I see within us all (myself included) the replacement of complex inner density with a new kind of self—evolving under the pressure of information overload and the technology of the “instantly available.”

As we are drained of our “inner repertory of dense cultural inheritance,” Foreman concluded, we risk turning into “‘pancake people’—spread wide and thin as we connect with that vast network of information accessed by the mere touch of a button.”

So many quotable quotes just in that section…Read slowly the things worth your time. Don’t lose those “quiet spaces opened up by the sustained, undistracted reading of a book, or…any other act of contemplation” you might enjoy this summer.Make associations.Draw your own inferences and analogies.Foster your own ideas.Read deeply; think deeply; pray deeply.I suggest we get countercultural.Anyone for a long, slow, summer read in the hammock?

The post Is Google Making Us Stoopid? appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

“With a storyteller’s charm and a Bible teacher’s grit, L.L. Barkat weaves memoir, humor and spiritual insight together into a satisfying read,” Edward Gilbreath, author of Reconciliation Blues.”The beautiful and intelligent writing will pull you in, but the deep and uncommon insights will keep you reading…It is a book meant to be read slowly,” Steve Hayner, professor of evangelism and church growth, Columbia Theological Seminary.

And Scot McKnight, author of The Jesus Creed, said, “The only writer I know quite like L.L. Barkat is Eugene Peterson. That probably tells you all you need to know.”Wowzers. Scot says Barkat is like Peterson? No wonder I thought, “That person’s smart!”I don’t know if books that are difficult to categorize really are hard to market, but once I discover them, I have found them to be captivating reading.Stone Crossings was like that.Each chapter begins with a poetically written reflective piece, often weaving in something of her love of natural settings. The chapters then explore the hard places Barkat has been physically, spiritually, relationally, emotionally…and they celebrate God’s grace as He met, taught, and guided her through it all.Her personal stories, powerful and poignant as they are (the discreet but clear personal story that sets up the meat for chapter 2 proved to be a difficult, painful read), don’t necessarily serve as the centerpiece of the chapters; instead, they establish the theme. Within a few paragraphs, Barkat proceeds to highlight a character or story from Scripture, weaving in details and insight that reflect her spiritual wisdom, study, and depth of understanding.In Chapter 2, she offers a beautiful detail about the term “worm” when it’s used in Psalm 22. In this psalm, Jesus “cries prophetically through David that he’s a worm,” Barkat writes. She then explains:

[T]he Hebrew word here, towla, refers to a special sort of worm–a female that attaches herself to a tree before laying her eggs. Once she lays her eggs, this sacrificial mother becomes a protective covering. She dies right there, excreting a crimson fluid that covers both her body and her offspring.Such colorful artistry was not lost on the ancients. (p. 22, Stone Crossings)

That artistry and image was not lost on the ancients; nor, it seems, was it lost on Barkat. Nor was it lost on me, when I read it. The word captured long before Jesus was nailed to the cross is a picture of His sacrifice for us–He covers us with His blood. In Him, we’re saved and, ultimately, safe.I don’t want to tell too many stories from the book and keep you from discovering them yourself, but I was deeply impressed with the story she told about sacrificing her career.  After her first daughter was born, she returned to teaching. She and her husband enrolled their little girl in a local daycare and dropped her off. “I was sad on one level,” she wrote, “but relieved to ‘get my life back,’ as I’d heard women say…But then my infant daughter made her own plea: ‘I want my mommy back.’ At seven months old she had no words to say this. She simply stopped eating in my absence.”The workers at the daycare tried everything to get her to eat, but she wouldn’t. Ten hours would pass, and she would refuse. She would be “dazed and unresponsive. She ignored my attempts to communicate with her. My lively, smiley baby was gone.”After two weeks, they took her to the doctor, who said that distressed babies sometimes go on hunger strikes.Barkat explained:

I went home that day knowing I was at a crossroads. My daughter wanted me, but I wanted a life. What’s more, I wanted a house. With my salary, we were on track to get one soon–a good-sized home in which to raise a family…[God’s Spirit] spoke quietly on my way back from work: ‘You can have a big house with nothing to put in it. Or you can give up the job and the house and fill your home with love.’ While God doesn’t necessarily ask every woman to leave work for a child, he seemed to be urging me in that direction and graciously promising, ‘I will make…your walls of precious stones.’ (Isaiah 54:12).As it went, I took him at his word. (p. 83, 87)

I was deeply moved by the apparent grief and confusion of her young child and the resulting call to sacrifice that L.L. felt that God was calling her to.In a later chapter, I loved her lengthy description of what the blind man might have experienced after Jesus placed mud on his eyes and told him to wash in the Pool of Siloam…possibly a long, stumbling walk as he tried to find it still in his dark world of mud-dabbed blindness. I had not considered how far the water might have been from the place where the blind man and Jesus met; nor had I registered that the man was still blind and smeared with mud while searching for it. Barkat took time to climb into that man’s shoes and tie his experience in with her own story.Finally, the story in the epilogue ties in the theme of stones in a highly personal way with Barkat’s extended family.It’s simple. Beautiful. And full of grace.That’s only a choppy peek into a book that’s packed with insight, honesty, poetry, pain, beauty, and grace.She has opened up her life for us to learn and grow.Through this book, she herself has offered every reader hope–by seeing the relationship with Jesus Christ she has developed in and through the hard places she’s been, we have hope that we, too, will find His grace in times of need.L.L. Barkat offers even more honesty, insight and wisdom over at her blog Seedlings in Stone. Pay her a visit, and you can decide for yourself if “that person’s smart.”

The post Stone Crossings: Finding Grace in Hard and Hidden Places appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

• Last year, 85% of North American households didn’t buy one single nonfiction book.
• Of those who did purchase one, 90% didn’t read it.
• Combine this data with the statistic that we’ve got our TVs on more than six hours a day, and the author warns, “I’ve never met one massively high achiever who has time to sit in front of the plug-in drug.” **

Instead of watching TV, he says, read.Go out and buy a nonfiction book–or fiction, of course–and read. Think. Learn.Speaking of reading, I started L.L. Barkat’s book Stone Crossings. More on that later.Wait a minute! What am I doing, typing up statistics on my blog while I’m on vacation with my beloved Belgian Wonder? Shouldn’t we be basking in the silence? Or chatting uninterrupted?Never fear. We’ve already enjoyed some uninterrupted conversation.At the moment, he’s napping peacefully on the couch.It’s raining outside, but warm.I can hear the Gulf waters lapping against the sand.I’m digesting some seafood (stuffed flounder).We’re relaxing.Here’s what we saw out the window as we landed:And here’s what we can see if we step out onto a side balcony:Tomorrow I’ll make omelettes on the stove in this little efficiency to serve with tea and Pillsbury biscuits, and then, weather permitting, we’ll drag two of those lounge chairs down to the beach and stare at the water.And we’ll read.** I’m assuming that most bloggers are readers who fall into the 15 percent who bought a book and the 10 percent who read it.Do tell:

• How many books did you buy and read last year?
• How about this year–how many have you bought? How many have you read?

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David was co-writer and producer for the film. He said that it was a challenge to bring the story to film, because, “People have brought their own lives to it; everyone has his or her own idea of what Terabithia looks like. Everybody has created his or her Terabithia.”

Katherine said, “I hardly describe Terabithia at all…in the book, it just gets a few brush strokes.”

David said, “Everyone, when they read a book, they are their own filmmaker.”

Their rapport was charming. She patted him on the knee now and then, and he would reach over and rest his hand on her shoulder. He teased her for calling him by his brother’s name, and she just laughed. The whole hour was just sweet, sweet, sweet. Well, and I learned a little bit about Hollywood, and how David was firm about how the film should stay faithful to the book.

I won’t spoil it for you if I mention that somebody dies in the book, will I? Did I? Did I just spoil the book and movie? I’m so sorry, if I did. At least I didn’t tell you who.

Well, somebody dies in the book. It’s absolutely critical to the plot.

So when David was first in conversations with Disney to see if they were interested in making the adaptation of Terabithia, they said that they were, but they wanted to change a few things. The fact that the character dies was a big bummer…instead of dying, could the person just break an arm? Could the character fall into a coma and almost die?

Uh, no. The character has to die.

Well, they weren’t interested in that. Finally he was able to get someone to listen and understand that the story was the star–the story was everything–and they agreed to stick with the story and make a faithful adaptation.

And the character dies.

But a problem with that was the trailer. The footage created to promote the film looked like a fantastical adventure–no mention of death–and they got phone calls and e-mails from irate parents who went to the film not knowing what they were in for. One dad was so upset that he took his kids to the movies, and then he was stuck actually having to talk about death with his children. He was livid. And both Katherine and David were thinking, “Hm, maybe it’s about time he had a conversation about death with his children. Maybe more parents need to talk with their kids about these difficult topics.”

Uh, yeah. I agree. I mean, if I didn’t know that a character would die, I might have been frustrated as well. I like to be prepared. So maybe it’s good that I told you, too, so you’ll be prepared if you rent it, to talk about death with your kids. But these conversations are important. Hard, but important. If literature and film can help us talk about hard issues with our families, that can be good.

Katherine said it well. “Children’s books give kids a rehearsal for what life will be.”

She restated it two more times. “Books can give you a rehearsal for the hard things in life. When we lose someone to death, those books can come back to us years later and be a comfort to us.”

She told a story about a letter she received from a man who explained that someone dear to him passed away, and he happened to revisit Bridge to Terabithia because he remembered it from childhood. Reading the book as a child, he sensed its power and it stuck with him. Reading it as an adult who recently lost a loved one, it was a source of comfort to him. “If he hadn’t had it when he was ten,” she said, “he wouldn’t have had it when he was 21.”

Again, “Don’t censor hard books because they’re hard; because hard books help to prepare you for the hard things in life.”

She said, “If a book has any power, it has the power to offend. It also has the power, maybe, to mean something to people’s lives.”

She told about the trouble with discussion questions and study guides created for her books over the years. Some are good, some…not so much. To illustrate, she told the well-known story about a little boy in Sunday school whose teacher asks, “I’m thinking of an animal. It’s brown and fuzzy and climbs trees.”

The class falls silent.

“It’s got a fluffy tail,” the teacher continued. Nothing.

“It collects nuts and stores them for the winter!”

Finally, a little boy speaks up and says, “Sure sounds like a squirrel to me, but I know the answer must be ‘Jesus.'”

She used that to make the point that questions need to be real questions. “We need to be careful not to ask questions for which we already know the answer. We need to ask genuine questions.”

She urged us, “Ask the question you have about a book. If we ask a question and don’t know the answer, some really exciting dialogue can open up.”

The post Books offer a Rehearsal for Life appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

She spent most of the time defining that word, “acedia,” that has fallen out of usage. She’s trying to resurrect it, because she thinks it captures our current culture’s general boredom, apathy, or ennui. None of those words expresses the attitude and mood quite right, so she’s returning to acedia.

She wrote in the description:

Few people today have encountered the word acedia, which literally means not-caring, or being unable to care that you don’t care. In some ways, though, acedia defines today’s culture, expressing itself as willful indifference, restless boredom, or even frantic busyness. Norris discusses both acedia and its opposite–the zeal that draws on faith, hope, and love.

She said that when the seven deadly sins were determined and defined, the term “acedia,” which had been used widely among monks who struggled with it, was absorbed into the concept of sloth. It was lost. It has a meaning, however, that is specific and in her opinion, useful.

“I tend to believe words are in usage because we need them,” she said. And she thinks we need the word “acedia” again. When she proposed the idea of a book about acedia, somebody–maybe a monk, maybe an editor–told her, “Well, you’ve got an open field, since not much has been done with it since the sixth century.”

She said she faced an “attack of thoughts spiraling me downward” and made a “powerful connection with my past. When you’re a writer,” she said, “there’s no turning back from such a connection.”

“Acedia works like a spiritual morphine. It leaves you not caring; unable to commit to relationships; unable to stay in one place; and so frantically busy, you don’t have the energy to care….there’s so much coming at you, you can’t care any more. It renders us impervious to care.”

Does that sound like our culture today?

By the way, she passed along what she thought was the best description of midlife she’d ever heard (I can’t remember the source):

“Midlife is a metamorphosis in reverse, where you start out as a butterfly and gradually turn into a caterpillar.”(laughter)

She talks and writes openly of her avoidance of all things math-related. In a room full of writers, I’m sure there were plenty of sympathetic ears. When she said, “I don’t have much faith in linear process,” she was rewarded with a burst of hearty laughter. I have no idea what came before or after that. No context. Only that isolated statement.

She talked about how our culture gives us the art we need and maybe the art we want.

Maybe we want Britney, for example, because we don’t want to deal with the complicated pain and horror of that pesky ground combat in Iraq. “Denial,” she said, “is entrenched in our culture. We don’t want to be awakened from our sleep of acedia.”

Maybe we want to not care; in fact, we might even want to not care that we don’t care.

“Why bother?” we wonder.

She borrowed a phrase from Wordsworth, that we’re in a state of almost “savage torpor.”

Life bores us. And she quoted someone…Baudelaire, I think, saying, “Oh, how tired I am of the need to live 24 hours a day.”

She was speaking to a lot of writers in that room. She talked about the “tyranny of the blank page.” Later she called it the “democracy of the white page–every writer has to return there.”

I would add that bloggers can replace that with “blank screen.” The screen stares. The template taunts. Do we have anything to say? Each writer returns there and asks the same thing…unless, of course, she is plagued by acedia.

“What do writers need?” she asked rhetorically. “Not to stop.”

“We need ‘possibility,'” she said, then quoting Kierkegaard so quickly that I couldn’t get it down. So I jotted a few key words in order to Google it later, which I did, landing on this page of Kierkegaard quotes:

“If I were to wish for anything, I should not wish for wealth and power, but for the passionate sense of the potential, for the eye which, ever young and ardent, sees the possible. Pleasure disappoints, possibility never. And what wine is so sparkling, what so fragrant, what so intoxicating, as possibility!“

She claims that prayer and the reciting of psalms battle acedia.

Finally, she mentioned in passing a “Commonplace Book.”

Do you keep a Commonplace Book?

I think my blog has become something of an online, virtual Commonplace Book; in fact, I think many blogs are, given the description provided at Wikipedia. It says:

They were a way to compile knowledge, usually by writing information into books. They were essentially scrapbooks filled with items of every kind: medical recipes, quotes, letters, poems, tables of weights and measures, proverbs, prayers, legal formulas. Commonplaces were used by readers, writers, students, and humanists as an aid for remembering useful concepts or facts they had learned. Each commonplace book was unique to its creator’s particular interests.

This very post, in fact, is an act of “commonplacing,” as I record Norris’s quotations and reflect on them personally:

What is “Commonplacing” and what is a Commonplace Book? Commonplacing is the act of selecting important phrases, lines, and/or passages from texts and writing them down; the commonplace book is the notebook in which a reader has collected quotations from works s/he has read. Commonplace books can also include comments and notes from the reader; they are frequently indexed so that the reader can classify important themes and locate quotations related to particular topics or authors.

The commonplace book was always at hand as a conversational prompt…today, perhaps, it can serve as fodder for blog posts, articles, books, or good old-fashioned conversations.

Although I don’t want to add another notebook to my life, juggling it along with my Day-Timer and journal, I’m tempted to begin one for that purpose–to collect sayings and quotations that I can use as a conversational (or blog-versational) prompt. And then the blog itself serves as a more developed, refined version of the notebook.

That’s all I’ve got for Kathleen Norris.

Look for signs of acedia.

And tell me about what you use as a kind of Commonplace Book.

Is it your blog?

Do you weave quotes and facts into your journal or diary?

Do you jot down quotes on pieces of paper or 3X5 cards and toss them in a box?

The post Kathleen Norris, Acedia, and the Commonplace Book appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

I was sitting in the Visitors’ Gallery of the House of Commons, I and forty-nine other artists from across Canada, fifty in all, and I got to thinking about stillness. To read a book, one must be still. To watch a concert, a play, a movie, to look at a painting, one must be still. Religion, too, makes use of stillness, notably with prayer and meditation.

Keep those thoughts of his in mind.The fifty artists went in and presented the reasons that funding for the arts is essential for Canada as a country, but the leaders seemed disinterested. He said that Stephen Harper, the Prime Minister, tends to run Canada more like a business than a country, and sat unmoved throughout the short plea for support of the arts.Martel could have responded in a lot of ways to the apparent disinterest. He decided to be positive, proactive, and clever. I pulled from the site the following explanation: 

The Prime Minister did not speak during our brief tribute, certainly not. I don’t think he even looked up. The snarling business of Question Period having just ended, he was shuffling papers. I tried to bring him close to me with my eyes.Who is this man? What makes him tick? No doubt he is busy. No doubt he is deluded by that busyness. No doubt being Prime Minister fills his entire consideration and froths his sense of busied importance to the very brim. And no doubt he sounds and governs like one who cares little for the arts.But he must have moments of stillness. And so this is what I propose to do: not to educate—that would be arrogant, less than that—to make suggestions to his stillness.For as long as Stephen Harper is Prime Minister of Canada, I vow to send him every two weeks, mailed on a Monday, a book that has been known to expand stillness. That book will be inscribed and will be accompanied by a letter I will have written. I will faithfully report on every new book, every inscription, every letter, and any response I might get from the Prime Minister, on this website

I just love that. I love the care with which he is selecting great literature and writing a brief explanation of how it might enrich the Prime Minister’s life.Martel said he has a few self-imposed rules for the book selection process. He chooses relatively short books, trying to respect the PM’s time (and, perhaps, his attention span). And I think with the exception of Le Petit Prince (The Little Prince), the books are all in English. I can’t remember why, because I think the PM is fluent in French.Here is an excerpt from the first letter Martel sent accompanying the first book, which was Tolstoy’s The Death of Ivan Ilych.

I know you’re very busy, Mr. Harper. We’re all busy. Meditating monks in their cells are busy. That’s adult life, filled to the ceiling with things that need doing. (It seems only children and the elderly aren’t plagued by lack of time—and notice how they enjoy their books, how their lives fill their eyes.) But every person has a space next to where they sleep, whether a patch of pavement or a fine bedside table. In that space, at night, a book can glow. And in those moments of docile wakefulness, when we begin to let go of the day, then is the perfect time to pick up a book and be someone else, somewhere else, for a few minutes, a few pages, before we fall asleep. And there are other possibilities, too. Sherwood Anderson, the American writer best known for his collection of stories Winesburg, Ohio, wrote his first stories while commuting by train to work. Stephen King apparently never goes to his beloved baseball games without a book that he reads during breaks. So it’s a question of choice.And I suggest you choose, just for a few minutes every day, to read The Death of Ivan Ilych.

I liked that Martel reminded the PM, as well as his Festival audience on that night he spoke, that reading can be done in short segments of time. Most of us sleep next to a nightstand of some sort. We can leave a book there and “in that space, at night, a book can glow,” as we read from it for five minutes at the end of a day. Even busy people can manage to read. He was, of course, preaching to the choir that night at Calvin College; but to Stephen Harper, he was being understanding and practical.It’s also fun to scan the titles Martel has chosen along with a brief synopsis of each book. Martel includes his own personal opinion about why the book is great, and along the way, gently reminds the PM why literature matters–why art matters–and why stillness matters in the taking in of art. 

The post Yann Martel on Life of Pi, Interpretation, Stillness, and Art appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

She remembered. She remembered the transatlantic flight we shared in 2005, and the descent that led to my child’s airsickness. She remembered how my husband and I mopped up vomit as the plane landed. She remembered handing me a paper towel, and how, when I turned around to thank the kind stranger, I realized it was her and exclaimed, “You’re Phyllis Tickle!” She remembered saying, “Why, yes, I am! You look familiar…how do I know you?”

I explained that I met her at a writing event, and I reminded her of something stupid I said, and she remembered that, too.

And she remembered how I introduced my husband to her, and how he thoughtfully didn’t extend his vomit-y hand to shake hers. She remembered how I totally abandoned him to the cleanup to continue talking with Phyllis and find out why she was on the same flight from Belgium. I was so focused on my kids for the six- or seven-hour flight that I never bothered to turn around. She was one row behind me the entire time.

And so after her talk yesterday, we had a big laugh reconnecting and remembering.

And, of course, cheesy-me, I asked someone to take our photo:

That whole airsickness incident reminds me to take a tip from the world of advertising and marketing: if you want someone to remember you, even bad press is good press. So do something memorable, or don’t feel bad if something memorable happens.

When I was sitting through Phyllis’s presentation, I scribbled a quote that stood out–and it wasn’t even the point of her talk: Some writers “are learning to say very well…nothing.” About the only application that kind of writing might work for is ad copy, she said, or on the Web.

I thought about blogging. I hope to learn to say things very well. But I hope to use any skill I may acquire to say something meaningful, not “nothing.” It’s a good warning; a reminder to merge craft and content, or, to have content with craftsmanship, or something like that. She didn’t say all that–that’s me chewing on her one thought.

The title of her talk was “Writing as Catechesis.” It’s too hard to explain briefly, so I’ll just type out her description from the information packet and let you ponder it:

Writers of all stripes have claimed to write for discovery, yet religious writers, according to Tickle, write to discover what they believe as well as what they think, making writing the ultimate catechesis.

After her message, as I waited to go up and get my photo taken, I glanced to my left. Two chairs down from me sat Christian authors Lisa Samson and Claudia Mair Burney!

I recognized them from their blogs. I’d clicked over there from this blog or that blog. Who knows how we arrive at places on this crazy World Wide Web, eh? Anyway, I recognized their faces and names, and decided once again to be a bold attendee. I stuck out my hand and said, “Hi there! I recognize you both from online…would you mind if I took your picture and put it on my blog?”

“Of course not!”

As I introduced myself to Claudia, I mentioned someone that I was pretty sure she knew, Don Pape, and I mentioned that I was working on a book for David C Cook, where Don is Trade Book Publisher, and she said, “Don’s my buddy! And I just came out with a book with David C Cook!” She held it out. It’s called Zora & Nicky: A Novel in Black and White. Then, she handed it to me.

“Here,” she said. “I want you to have this.”

“What? No! No, I can buy a copy.”

“No, I want you to have it. Here.” She put it in my hands.

“But…well…Thank you. Thank you so much.”

So congratulations, Claudia, on the book’s release. And thank you again. I can’t wait to read it!

And then I got to talk with Lisa Samson, and she’s a bright, lively, fun author who has written a lot of Christian fiction and just came out with a book called Embrace Me.

Congratulations, Lisa, for the book’s release!

After chatting for a moment or two about publishing, they introduced me to someone else. It turns out that she’s the Executive Director of the Christy Awards, Donna Kehoe. I said hello, chatted about nothing too memorable, nor did anything memorable happen–no kids around to produce vomit–and I think it was Donna who offered to take a picture of Claudia and Lisa that had me in it, too.

Then I excused myself to go get that snapshot with Phyllis.Later that afternoon I was passing through the little campus hangout, making a beeline for a booth where I planned to unpack my bag and write, and there sat Claudia in a comfy chair, eating some yogurt.

“Ann!” she called out. “Pull up a chair and join us!”

“Oh, no, no, I don’t want to intrude on your gathering. You should feel free to sit here and talk shop.”

“You aren’t intruding–I’m inviting you. And we aren’t going to be talking shop, or if we do, you can hear it, too. Sit down. Pull up that chair.”

So, unsure what the others would think, I set down my bag and pulled up a chair. Then Lisa Samson came over along with Donna Kehoe, and then another author named Cindy Crosby came over. They introduced her to the group as well. They’re all so warm, welcoming, and gracious. The world felt all rosy and soft-focus as I listened to them tell funny stories and explain the plots for their next book projects.

A funny little “small world” thing about Cindy Crosby is that she grew up in the next town over from where I grew up, and her dad owned the Christian bookstore just around the corner from where my mom worked. I used to walk there with just a little bit of change jingling in my pocket. I’d look at all the book titles and study the pamphlets. Every once in a while, I’d buy a little pamphlet, because that would be all I could afford with my change. But one time, I saved up enough to buy my first Bible with my own money. My parents would have bought it for me, but I wanted it to be all my own, and somehow purchasing it must have been key to that in my mind.

Cindy’s dad tried to talk me into an NIV or NASB, but I had it in my head that I needed a KJV. I think I was about 12 years old. So I made my final selection: a King James bound with inexpensive burgundy leather. Her dad did succeed in talking me into getting my name stamped on it in gold. I think he understood how personal it was, and convinced me that my name in gold would solidify the deal.

Later, with birthday money from my aunt, and because I was having a little trouble understanding the King James, I bought my second Bible from him–a copy of The Living Bible with a kind of puffy green hardcover binding.

Anyway, I took a terrible, terrible self-snapped shot of Cindy and me, but I’m including it because Cindy looks okay. I’m the one who looks terrible, and I’m okay with that:

Apparently, I am so tired, I’ve decided to take a nap on Cindy’s shoulder. Or, rather, I need a little coaching in how to take self-snappers.

Anyway, Cindy is author of several books, including By Willoway Brook. She doesn’t have a website, but you can do an Amazon search on her name to pull up her titles.

I lunched with L.L. Barkat, who wrote the newly released Stone Crossings (Congratulations again!), and we had a great conversation about writing and blogging.

“I wish there were some fun way to get a picture of us together that I could post on my blog,” I said, “that would still respect your privacy.”

And then, as we shifted our feet, inspiration hit her.”I know!”

And that was the only moment during the festival that I regretted wearing my sensible walking shoes. Mine are on the left, and I can see now that they are probably far, far too sensible…scuffed…worn…a disgrace…unsightly and unstylish.

Okay, maybe they aren’t that bad.

Then again, maybe they are.

People, if you ever meet L.L. Barkat, pray that you shined your shoes that morning. This is her new thing. I ran into her later, and she said she got a nice shot of her shoes next to Ed Gilbreath’s.

Here’s a shot of my new friend L., who wishes to remain unnamed, when we were sitting in an auditorium waiting for Yann Martel to speak. Martel is the author of Life of Pi and maintains a blog called “What is Stephen Harper Reading.” He explains the reason for the blog and what he does here.

Then I met two charming festival attendees–Eileen Button and Nadyne Parr–at Elizabeth Berg’s lecture.

We ended up walking together to Elizabeth’s book signing, so I just stood in line with them in order to continue the conversation. I didn’t have a book of Elizabeth’s for her to sign, but I thought it might be fun to get a picture, because I was just thinking of you all so much and wanting to share everything with you. Really.

So there I was at the table, and her sweet husband said, “No flash,” because Elizabeth has an eye condition. So we turned off the flash, and Nadyne snapped this picture that will prove to the world what an intimate friendship I’ve forged with Elizabeth Berg.

You can see for yourself the rich interaction we were enjoying and what a surprising connection we made in such a short time.

Right. Well.

I had two more favorite moments. One was when I ran into a dear friend at the very end of the conference, just before heading to Katherine Paterson’s lecture. I was with Nadyne, and she snapped this picture of my happy reunion with Jim Poole.

In addition to being very tall, my friend Jim is a talented actor, video producer, and writer, but he will be most familiar to you as the voice of Scooter in the VeggieTales productions. That’s the vegetable with the Scottish brogue. We have a sing-along CD with “I Can Be Your Friend” on it, and I always jump in and sing along with Jim, imitating his accent, “Aye, that’s why we’ve got feelin’s that are verrrry (roll the “r”) much the same!”

Too bad I didn’t run into Jim sooner, as he managed to get himself known by several of the “names” at the event–he’s endearing and easy to know, so one of his new BFFs (Scott Cairns, maybe or Jeffrey Overstreet) invited him to the evening reception where all the authors were sipping colas and eating hors d’oeuvres. Before I ran into Jim, I peeked and saw them all mingling. It was a grown-up-writers’ party to which I was not invited…but…apparently Jim could have gotten me in.

Life just didn’t time out quite right, however, and I wasn’t able to nibble triangles of chicken quesadilla next to Kathleen Norris and Scott Cairns. I wouldn’t have known what to say anyway. I would have been tongue tied, and if I managed to think of something to say, I would have said it with tortilla blobs stuck in my teeth.

Memorable.My other favorite moment happened this afternoon. Ever since I saw the comment from Monica at Paper Bridges (formerly “Books Are My Friends”) that she wished she could sit in on a session with Rob Bell, I had this idea…I wasn’t sure if I should try it. I mean, I knew it would be goofy and borderline junior-highish. I waffled.

Then I just did it.

I walked up to Rob after his session. “Hi, I’m Ann Kroeker,” I said, holding out my hand to shake his. “I really enjoyed your talk just now (he said thanks), but what I wanted to ask is a favor. A friend of mine couldn’t be here, but really wanted to see you most of all. And so I was just wondering if I could get a picture of you with this and put it on my blog.”

He grinned really big, nodded, took the piece of paper, and I snapped this:

And this, my friends, is an example not only of how to do something so memorable so that you might be remembered for your silliness, but also of why you want to make friends with a blogger. You never know when she’ll be thinking of you.

The post Connections and Conclusions appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

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I recently came across a passage in a book called Graceful Simplicity.

In a chapter entitled “The Politics of Simplicity,” in a section subtitled “Education for Simple Living,” the author claimed that “In educating for simple living, three building blocks stand out: fostering a love of books, developing a stronger aesthetic sensibility, and enhancing our ability to create things of beauty.”

The quote I offer you today is from the section on “A Love of Books”:

If one loves books, if one loves to read, if in a family people read to each other, then a foundation has already been laid for a simple life of great pleasure at little expense. Entering this world—provided that one has learned to love what is within it, and has developed the appreciative skills required to fully participate in it—is to have the key to the central repository of human wealth. Reading good books can serve as the central emblem of a life of simplicity. *

Read together.

Read alone.

Read silently or aloud.

Read to yourself.

Read to your kids.

Read, read, read.

(Graceful Simplicity: Toward a Philosophy and Politics of Simple Living, by Jerome M. Segal, Henry Holt and Company, New York, NY, 1999. p. 111)

The post The Simplicity of Reading appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

• Last Sunday at church, two guys in our class said that they are writing out the Bible, word for word, beginning with Genesis. They feel that the act of writing slows them down and brings incredible focus, and they see things in the Scriptures that they never noticed before. They call this practice “scribing.”
• A friend in the class joked that she was doing something similar, but less ambitious, than those guys and said she’s writing out Matthew. Same motivation–to slow down, focus, and interact personally with the Lord via the text. She brackets things that stand out to her, to return to and spend time with in meditation and prayer.
• Another guy in the group is going through a three-year daily Bible study book called Search the Scriptures that will take him slowly and meticulously through the entire Bible. He meets monthly with a friend who is also on track with the same book to discuss what they’re learning.
• I’ve mentioned my Psalter/Proverbs reading plan as a simple and basic discipline. If all else fails, if other plans fall apart, I can always fall back on this.
• Journaling. Always a great tool for my prayer life. This probably has a thousand variations–perhaps you can offer ideas about how you use journaling in your quiet time?
• A-C-T-S as a prayer plan, praying first Adoration, then Confession, then Thanksgiving, and finally Supplication. When I learned that technique, the teacher added L to the acrostic, for Listening, even those “ACTSL” isn’t a memorable word. It sounds a little like “axle,” though, doesn’t it? Sorry. I digress. I’ve used the ACTS(L) method with a journal and also just verbally or silently without pen-to-paper. Here’s a simple explanation from a UK-based ministry.
• One-Year Bible. A few years ago I picked up a One-Year Bible that actually divides up and breaks down passages into daily readings that include a passage from the Old Testament, New Testament, Psalms and a Proverb. The sections are dated, so it’s all physically laid out for me to easily follow–open up to today’s date and read.
• One-Year Reading Plans. One doesn’t need to invest in a One-Year Bible to read through the Scripture in a year. There are a lot of these plans you can download to follow using your own Bible, checking off passages as you go. Here’s one I found in a quick search that also offers the option of a three-year plan. And here’s another from Crosswalk that you can use online that just pops up the reading of the day when you go to the link. I guess this is more like having an online One-Year Bible. If you’re fixing breakfast and have your laptop nearby, you can even click on a “Listen” option and have it read to you.
• Vary translations. Someone told me she reads through the Bible every year using a reading program, but chooses a different translation every time, to get a fresh perspective.
• Devotional Books. These can offer a story or insight from someone, Scripture passages, and sometimes prayers. I’ve used old classic books as well as daily subscription types. Our Daily Bread is one that I used in college–it’s still available printed, but also online. My Utmost for His Highest is also available online, along with Streams in the Desert, and Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening, among others.
• Scripture-based Book studies, like Beth Moore’s books or Blackaby’s Experiencing God, or headier stuff like a survey of the Old or New Testament. CBD has a list of Bible studies in various categories. Have you used any in particular that stand out?
• Commentaries online are handy. There are a lot, like here, here, and here. Lots of other places, too, if you do a quick search.

I look forward to collecting some more ideas in the comments! Please share ideas and tools for how your time with the Lord has become richer and more meaningful.And then be sure to pop back over to Rocks In My Dryer to offer more great insights and ideas to people’s pressing questions today at Backwards WFMW.Oh, and feel free to browse my previous posts of things that have worked for me.

The post Quiet? Time? appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

I was once asked to make a list of five strengths I possess as a writer. Here’s what I came up with.

Five Writing Strengths

1. The ability to sit still for long stretches of time

Not everyone can do this, you know. Some people get antsy, restless. After a few minutes of sitting still, they fidget and have to get up and make hot chocolate or call a friend. Writers need to be able to sit still for hours in order to get their work done. Dorothea Brande in her book Becoming a Writer said:

Writing calls on unused muscles and involves solitude and immobility. There is not much to be said for the recommendation, so often heard, to serve an apprenticeship to journalism if you intend to write fiction. But a journalist’s career does teach two lessons which every writer needs to learn—that it is possible to write for long periods without fatigue, and that if one pushes on past the first weariness one finds a reservoir of unsuspected energy—one reaches the famous “second wind.” (71)

I can’t help but think of that famous advice writers hear at conferences and in books—how does one become a successful writer? Apply one’s bottom to chair (unless, of course, one is using a standing desk). I admit that I do head into the other room to grab a handful of nuts now and then, or fix a cup of tea. But I can sit still when need be.

2. Curiosity

Each person I meet knows something that I don’t—I can always learn something new if I ask the right questions. All it takes is a little curiosity. Whether working for a newspaper or corporate client, finding interest in some aspect of a new industry, person, story, or methodology is a strength—if I myself am interested in it, the way I write about it will probably be more interesting, as well. I value curiosity so highly in writing and in life, I publish a monthly Curiosity Journal, documenting and sharing my discoveries.

3. A Commitment to Lifelong Learning

I’ve abandoned the pursuit of higher education in a formal sense, but Autodidact Ann lives (and reads and researches) on. The more I learn, the more I have to write about. And guess what lifelong learners possess in abundance? Curiosity.

4. Love of Reading

Numbers 2, 3, and 4 are suspiciously interrelated. It might seem that I’m taking one idea and stretching it out to fill space—which might be yet another strength in itself—but I do think they deserve to be singled out. Curiosity often leads to learning and reading, and one often learns via reading. But there are other ways to learn and satisfy curiosity, and there is more than one motivation to read.

Yet (and this is the point) reading inevitably enhances writing—the content may inspire (or not); the writing style may be worth imitating (or not). Either way, reading widely only helps a writer. In his memoir, On Writing, Stephen King says:

If you want to be a writer, you must do two things above all others: read a lot and write a lot. There’s no way around these two things that I’m aware of, no shortcut. (139)

and

Reading is the creative center of a writer’s life. (142)

Storylines linger, nonfiction facts inform, ideas from texts co-mingle with others in my mind to form something new. A writer who doesn’t read is doomed to compose in a narrow style and draw from a limited library of ideas. I relish a good book, and I believe that makes my writing richer.

5. Perseverance

Never, never, never give up. Stick with it. Persist. I may not have been born with the greatest writing talent, but I’ve stuck with it. I work to improve and learn from mistakes, forging ahead a little smarter, wiser, and more skillful. As a friend of mine said (I paraphrase), the most successful writers are not necessarily the ones with the greatest talent; they’re the ones who persevere.

What five writing strengths do you possess?

______________________________

Is your writing life all it can be?

Let this book act as your personal coach, to explore the writing life you already have and the writing life you wish for, and close the gap between the two.

“A genial marriage of practice and theory. For writers new and seasoned. This book is a winner.”

—Phil Gulley, author of Front Porch Tales

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In 2007 I attended a colloquium at which Haven Kimmel, author of several books including a favorite of mine called A Girl Named Zippy, was the keynote speaker.

It’s been years since I read Zippy. Not long before I was heading to the colloquium, I happened across a post at Shalee’s Diner reviewing it. The timing was fun, and I was glad she enjoyed it.

I also found the following interview at Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast (Why Stop at Six?). I think it captures the energy Haven exuded in person—plus, it provides bonus material we didn’t get during her message.

When I learned that Haven had three children, one of them quite young, I decided during Q&A to ask her what I ask every writer-mom:

How do you balance writing and motherhood?

I heard a rustle of response from the audience, but I couldn’t tell whether it was from mom-types who were wanting to know the same thing, or from people who knew her well and were shocked that I was asking this.

She answered carefully. I could be wrong, but I think she was aggravated and wasn’t sure how to begin. The bottom line she conveyed was that she doesn’t try to do it all, and she lets people help.

But the actual response was more involved.

She said, “When I was finishing up Zippy, my now-11-year-old son was between his first and second birthdays. He literally hung from my legs while I was at the computer. I had to listen to the Scooby-Doo theme song in the background while I worked. I was trying to be everything. And then I realized I didn’t have to do it all, and I’m okay with that.”

She now accepts help even for little things—if someone offers to walk her dogs, she used to resist, but has learned to accept the offer, because letting others help can actually be a ministry to those doing the helping.

She explained that her husband stays home with the kids so that she can write and teach (she’s not only a successful author but also a college professor).

It still astounds her, however, that after all these years, people are still so shocked and impressed that her husband stays home while she works. People say, “Oh, he’s such a hero.” Whereas, if she were staying home, they might say of her, “Oh, you’re a great mom,” but it wouldn’t occur to them that she was a hero for caring for the kids. So the fact that the roles are still so stereotyped after women having come such a long way seemed to disturb her.

Regarding the arrangement with her husband, she concluded quite simply, “…so I just let him be a dad.”

The following, however, was her strongest statement, and when she said it, she looked me straight in the eye:

“I’ll bet if I were a man, I would never have been asked this question.”

I shrugged kind of sheepishly and nodded.

She’s right. It wouldn’t have occurred to me to ask a dad how he balances parenthood and writing. Point taken.

I wondered for a few minutes if the progressive types in the audience thought of me as an anachronistic, 1950s-style housewife (wearing a scarf, no less!).

My mom, who actually was a 1950s housewife, worked as a professional journalist instead of staying home with her kids full time. She probably would be aggravated by the same question.

Other than feeling somewhat chastised by Haven Kimmel, I felt that the weekend did serve to breathe some literary life into me. I sat in on a workshop with poet Maurice Manning, and another about Writing from the Heart, led by Quaker author Brent Bill.

Other riveting facts: I collided with not just one colloquium attendee, but two. The first collision occurred when I threw my hand up in a big, bold gesture and smacked someone’s shoulder. The second time I stood up and turned too quickly—boom! “Oh, no! I’m sorry—you’re the second person I’ve run into today!”

Maurice Manning witnessed both.

At lunch, someone asked Maurice Manning if he had any kids. He said that no, he did not. He has a couple of dogs. And he’s a beekeeper. But no kids.

Too bad, because you’d better believe I was poised to ask him:

How do you balance fatherhood and writing?

I ran into Haven and her mom in the room set up as a temporary bookstore. I was buying a copy of Zippy, She Got Up Off the Couch, and The Solace of Leaving Early.

“How nice that I’m buying a stack of Haven Kimmel books right in front of Haven Kimmel!” I said.

Smooth, I am; very smooth.

She laughed, and I said, “I’m buying my very own copy of Zippy. I borrowed it from a friend when I first read it.”

“I hear that from a lot of people—it seems to get passed around a lot.”

“It’s been years since I read it,” I admitted, “but I’ve never forgotten the carrot episode.”

“Me neither!”

“It comes up a lot—the story, I mean, not the carrots.”

“It comes up a lot with people for me, too. A memorable moment.”

A memorable moment. Yes, that’s what I experienced—not just one, but several memorable moments that brought a surprise or two to my literary outing.

The post Adventures in Literary Outings: Encounters with Haven Kimmel, Author of A Girl Named Zippy appeared first on Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach.

When my friend A. was helping me with some decorating ideas (I’m hopeless on my own), she recommended that I group the books on my family room shelves somehow.

“Group them? Like, with the Dewey Decimal System?” I asked. I wasn’t opposed. As a matter of fact, it would have made locating books much easier.

“No, not like that. I’m thinking like a decorator here. You could do it any number of ways.”

“You’re going to have to give me some ideas here.”

“Well, you could go by size, or by the type of book–in fact, you could slip all your paperbacks into baskets–or you could group them by color–“

“Stop!” I exclaimed. “Color! I like that idea.”

She was surprised. She was sure I was going to download the Dewey Decimal system and stick numbers on the spines.

But sure enough, I did it. I grouped them by color. First I took the dust covers off the hardback books (I saved the dust covers in a plastic storage bin in the basement, because I just couldn’t throw them away. I guess some people just toss them. Horrors!), and discovered that the hard covers could be loosely grouped into a few main color categories. I shelved them in those general categories and really liked the calming visual effect.

The only disconcerting thing is to have all of the C.S. Lewis books scattered here and there instead of grouped in one place. Or to have some totally secular novel right next to R.C. Sproul or J.I. Packer. I hope they don’t mind. Perhaps there is a sanctifying effect by osmosis?

And title-browsing can be rather disconcerting, as there’s nothing tying the books together thematically, nor are they collected by author or alphabetical order. The primary thing they share in common is the color of their spines.

This is not the natural choice of a book lover, I’ll admit. But I’m happy with the way my family room feels.

They are only grouped by color in the family room, by the way. I grouped them a little more by my own logic in the front room (poetry on one shelf, fiction books by contemporary authors on another, classic paperbacks in one place and classic hardbound on another shelf nearby, etc.).

People notice first that I have an alarming number of books (you may recall that my living room also has a large quantity of books on display). And then they stare at those family room shelves for a moment.

Slowly it dawns on them. “You’ve got your books grouped by color, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I answer. “I know it’s weird, but it works for me.”

Obviously, there are exceptions slipping in, but the top left shelf is mainly green, next down are the whites and off-whites, and under that are the blacks (with an odd white stuck in there, as you can see).

Top right shelf is mainly blue. Under that: red. And under the red are some greyish spines followed by a few more whites.

Note: In the years since I first posted this, grouping books by color has become common, but with A.’s help, I was an early adopter, even if it was not expertly done.

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I remember settling sideways in a black, plastic chair to sit across from a new client. I was developing my freelance corporate writing career simultaneous to incubating my first baby. My client, a land developer, stared doubtfully at the tent-like awning—er, maternity blouse—brushing the edge of the table. I tried tucking my “bump” under the table, but that didn’t work. That’s why I ended up sitting sideways to take notes.

“Are you sure you’ll be able to finish this job?” he asked, gesturing to my bump, “I mean, will you finish it before…uh…in time?”

“Of course!” I chirped in reply. “The baby is due next month—plenty of time to complete your information packets. Let’s get started.”

After my meeting, I drove home wondering if he was right. Would I be able to finish his project? Even broader than that, would I be able to launch this part-time career and deal with a new baby? Could I be the mother I want to be and become the writer I want to be? Could I do both well?

I wasn’t sure.

Somewhere along the line I ran into a Madeleine L’Engle quote:.

During the long drag of years before our youngest child went to school, my love for my family and my need to write were in acute conflict. The problem was really that I put two things first. My husband and children came first. So did my writing. Bump. (p. 19)

The bump. How interesting that she chose that word when talking about motherhood: bump. Funny, with biological moms flaunting their bumps these days in photos on blogs.

Anyway, knowing that Madeleine L’Engle developed her writing life in the context of motherhood gave me hope. If Madeleine figured it out, maybe I could, too.

And then an amazing opportunity presented itself. During that phase of early motherhood when my computer keyboard was bumping regularly against the umbrella stroller (metaphorically speaking), Madeleine spoke at a college about two hours away from my house. A friend of mine and I eagerly secured tickets. As expected, her talk inspired my writing-mind with her musings on time and space and creativity.

After her message, she signed books. Just to get her autograph, we stood for a long time, maybe an hour, in a line that snaked down a hallway. Madeleine’s health wasn’t good at the time, so they streamlined the process to minimize her stress and strain (and maximize the number of people who got books signed) by having us open our books and file through the room in a certain way. It was orchestrated smoothly. They wouldn’t appreciate a glitch.

I’m famous for glitches.

As we inched closer to the table where she sat signing book after book, I kept thinking, This is my chance to get some nugget to hold onto, some hope that somehow I’ll be able to pull off motherhood and writing.

“How, Madeleine?” I wanted to ask. “How did you do it?”

Maybe as much as knowing how, I just wanted some encouragement from her.

Maybe I wanted to hear her say, “You can do it. You’ll make it.”

Maybe a knowing smile and a slight nod would be enough.

I’m sure I was a maddening companion for my friend Julia during our long wait. I waffled. Should I ask, or should I just say thank-you and move on? If I asked her, what would she have time to say in the instant we were face-to-face?

Actually, I had a long list of questions I’d like to ask her. But I would have about five seconds.

Of all the things I could ask Madeleine L’Engle during those seconds I would stand in front of her—a chance in a lifetime—you’d think I’d go for something more esoteric or profound. Or ask her something more personal about Crosswicks or life in New York. But at that stage in my life, the most pressing question nagging me involved writing and motherhood:

How? How would I do this?

I handed her a book to sign (Walking on Water). She asked for my name and scrawled a note on its pages. She looked up and handed it to me.

“Thank you,” I said. Then I blurted it out: “When your kids were young…how did you do it? How did you manage to write?”

She looked up at me.

Eye contact.

One beat.

Two beats.

I’m sure my eyes were bugged out a little from the desperation I felt inside. I needed to know.

Three beats.

Four beats.

“It was hard,” she said.

And that was all she said.

Then she looked past me, hand outstretched for the next book, to scrawl another name, another mindless message, to click the next cog in the wheel that would get the assembly line back in motion and make up for my glitch.

It was hard? I already know that, Madeleine. I’m living that. I’m struggling. I’m dealing with the bump—the conflict, the struggle—every day.

I shuffled along with Julia out of the room.

What did I expect? It was a book signing, and I deserved no more time, wisdom or insight than anyone else in that long line of fans.

But boy did I need it. I needed hope from some author-mom on the other side, with kids all grown, who could look back and assure me that I’d make it through—someone who could offer a few principles for how to handle that Bump.

Madeleine couldn’t offer that.

Deep down, I knew it even before I asked.

A bit later I found myself in a writing workshop. Holly Miller was teaching. She used to work for the Saturday Evening Post. She’s written books and countless magazine articles. She frequently teaches writing workshops and seminars.

The event was held years ago in a small, intimate setting. Unlike my limited, five-second exchange with Madeleine, I had time to chat with Holly. I was the mother of three kids at the time. They were still very young.

After the official seminar finished, the room cleared out except for a few stragglers. I stood back and listened as she interacted with three friends of mine. Then she turned her attention to me.

I was lugging my portfolio, which included feature articles I’d written for the newspaper. A magazine article or two. Some brochures.

I’m sure she was noting that same bug-eyed look of desperation that poor Madeleine had to face.

“Here’s some of my work,” I stammered. “My kids are all young. I want to write and develop myself more.” She was leafing through the pages. “But…you, Holly, you’ve ‘arrived.’ You’ve done it! You’ve pulled it off—I dream of one day being where you are now. And you did it with kids. I just wonder how? How did you do it?”

She looked into my pleading, buggy eyes and reassured me. “You’re doing it. I mean, you’ve got some nice work here. You’re getting your name out there. You’re working at it. I think you should feel good about what’s shaping up here.”

Then I remember her eyes. There was a shift. She asked how old my kids were. I told her, and her eyes grew distant, almost melancholy. I don’t know if that’s what it was, but that’s what I felt.

“I’m where I am today because I worked long hours full-time when my kids were young,” she continued. “And now they’re grown. You’ll still have time to develop your career later, but you only have now with your kids. Your kids are so little, and they’re little for such a short time. Right now, I suggest you focus on your children. You’ll never regret spending time with those kids.

“Keep your finger in the publishing world,” she concluded. “Just keep your name out there. Publish locally with your paper, like you are. Submit to magazines. Keep it going on a small scale and your time will come.”

Finally: An answer.

I thought I was looking for hope or a plan of action. What I was really looking for was: Perspective.

That wistful look has carried me for years. I did not want to live with regret that I gave too much to my career and not enough to my little children, so I let that reflective advice assure me, especially when others were building more impressive careers than mine, that my time will probably come. Eventually.

And if it turns out that my time never comes as a writer, I’ll have been (and be) the mom I want to be for my children.

I was never bug-eyed desperate after that.

Taking Holly’s advice, I’ve faithfully kept my finger out there in the publishing world:

• maintaining this blog
• submitting to a magazine now and then
• authoring a book
• writing for corporations, organizations and not-for-profits.

I could stand to be savvier. There’s probably a way to make money from all these words I compose for the blog. I’m working on new projects and ramping up my writing life in other ways.

Maybe my time is coming. Maybe not. We shall see. Lord willing, we shall see.

But there are still soccer games to support. Softball practices. Meals and birthdays. Doctor’s appointments and carpets to vacuum.

My little boy just today asked me to read Mirette on the High Wire, which I did, along with Mem Fox’s Wilfred Gordon McDonald Partridge and Possum Magic. And then we ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and an apple cut up.

But he also had to wait while I finished up an e-mail that I had to send out for my freelance work, and when I told him he had to go to drop-off childcare so that I could attend some meetings, he muttered, “I wish you didn’t have this job.”

Parenting. Writing.

Bump. Bump. Bump.

Life’s an experiment. It evolves; I adapt.

I live, laugh, love…and write.

______________________________

Are the demands of motherhood keeping you from a rich relationship with God?

With ideas from mothers in all seasons of life, Ann Kroeker’s book offers creative, practical, and enjoyable suggestions to help you discover how a passionate relationship with God is possible in the midst of motherhood.

“The Contemplative Mom gives busy, loving, kid-centered mothers permission to rest, like a tired child, in God’s strong arms. An important book.”

—Rachael and Larry Crabb, authors and speakers

Buy your copy

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It was up to me to find out.

Which, I learned, is exactly what an autodidact would do.

Gee, I feel smarter already, which is the intent of that blog.

When one is feeling kind of midlife-y, the thought of returning to school to pursue a post-graduate degree of some sort is thrilling and daunting at the same time…and eventually, one concludes, impossible. When that same person has four children ranging from preschool to puberty, the thought of a master’s degree generally evaporates and she goes into the kitchen to finish mopping the floor, muttering all the while.

Not that this has happened to me or anything.

But people like that have to resort to other ways of learning, to satisfy their intellectual cravings. They become autodidacts.

Most of my life I’ve been an autodidact and didn’t know it. Perhaps I’m not much of one, given that I didn’t even now what the word meant until now.

But I’ve always been hungry for ideas and committed to lifelong learning. I read. I think. I try to learn something new every day. I research and explore topics of interest. I discuss issues with my friends, some of whom have zero interest in what I bring up, but feign interest because they know I’m home with a five-year-old all day long reading Dr. Seuss and playing variations on chess, most of which involve illegal zig-zaggy moves. My friends are kind. They know I need a little intellectual stimulation and quietly listen and nod, smiling now and then. I did this with my dad growing up. It’s an effective technique. Just insert “mm-hmm” and “really?” and “oh, wow” now and then, raising your eyebrows slightly on the “oh, wow.” It works. It really does. Just ask my friends. (But, uh, don’t mention it to my dad.)

So anyway, many thanks to Mental Multivitamin for providing the perfect alliteration as I explore who I am and journey toward self-discovery.

Autodidact Ann. Now that I know what it means, I think it fits.

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photo by Deidra of JumpingTandem.com

I’m just finishing up Writing from the Center, a collection of essays from Scott Russell Sanders. In the chapter from which the book takes its title, Sanders seeks “to know where authentic writing comes from; I would like to know the source of those lines that are worth keeping, the writing that brings some clarity and beauty into the confusion of our lives.” (p. 149)

I’d like to know that source, as well. I’d like to discover where authentic writing comes from, in hopes of producing some. Has he found it? I’m not sure, so I read on.Back when the happily married Sanders was launching his writing life, he was disturbed to read quotes from famous authors advising that writers should avoid marriage. They claimed that it stunts talent and stifles creativity. To be a serious artist, many claimed, one must sacrifice everything else to your work. He summarizes some words from Tillie Olsen:

[She] argues that “substantial creative work” can be produced only when “writing is one’s profession, practiced habitually, in freed, protected, undistracted time as needed, when it is needed. Where the claims of creation cannot be primary, the results are atrophy; unfinished work; minor effort and accomplishment; silences.” It would be hard for any writer who has tried juggling job and marriage and art to disagree with Olsen; and yet her argument beings to sound ominous when she sums it up by quoting Kafka: “Evil is whatever distracts.” (p. 154)

Sanders suggests, however, that many influential writers must have had significant distractions. William Carlos Williams, a doctor, surely would have been distracted by his patients; yet, he managed to write poetry (on the back of prescription pads, if memory serves me right). Poets who had students (Sanders himself is a professor) would have been approached with concerns about semester exams and upcoming assignments, yet they captured meaningful poetry. I can’t help but imagine Pulitzer-prize-winning journalists of the past working in the bustle of a noisy newsroom with phones ringing, typewriters clacking, and editors shouting out, “Copy!” They managed to produce powerful prose in the midst of distractions. Distractions can’t be blamed for bad writing (or no writing), because beautiful work has been produced in the midst of distraction. This is a relief to me, a mom in a state of constant distraction.

Sanders returns to the question of marriage-as-distraction:

What writer, embroiled in family and household and job, has never dreamed of stealing away into seclusion? What writer of either sex has not sometimes yearned, as Emerson phrased it, “to be released from every species of public or private responsibility”? …If anyone out there has labored at writing without ever craving such freedom, please will your brain to science, so that we might discover the secret of your serenity. (p. 155)

Uh, yes. I’ve dreamed of “stealing away into seclusion,” you bet. For both prayer and writing, and just a little silence. Then I liked what he wrote here:

The goal of the writer’s practice is the same as anyone else’s: to seek understanding of who and where and what we are, to come fully awake. If you are well married, sharing a life and not merely a bed or a bank account, then family may become your territory for doing the real work–spiritual as well as practical–of being human. (p. 156)

One could argue whether or not our goal is to become fully awake, but I do love hearing someone whose writing I admire confirming that my territory for writing is motherhood, marriage, family—and that it can work. I can explore this territory in my writing. I’ve chosen this territory, this setting, in which to live my life. I’ve chosen writing, as well. They do more than coexist—family and writing for me are inextricably intertwined. My writing is influenced and even inspired by my life as a mom, and motherhood has become more meaningful as I explore it through writing. Much material comes from this territory, and much is lost while I’m busy living it.

In the final essay, “Letter to a Reader,” Sanders writes, “From the richness of marriage, its depths and delights, I have learned the meaning of commitment—to a person, to a place, to a chosen work. Outside of this union I would have written quite different books, or perhaps none at all.” (p. 175)

And finally, he admits that he does need to pull away in order to write.

I must withdraw into solitude, must close my door against the world, close my mind against the day’s news. But unless the writing returns me to the life of family, friends, and neighbors with renewed energy and insight, then it has failed. My writing is an invitation to community, an exploration of what connects us to one another to the earth. (p. 186)

This is interesting in light of blog writing. To think that our writing is an invitation to community…I think that might be part of what we’re doing out here on the worldwide web. We’re inviting others to join us, to think with us, be amused, ponder, cry, reach out to others. We’re exploring what connects us to one another to the earth. But we’re using virtual means to do so. Strange.At this very moment, my five-year-old son is making sounds like a parrot two feet away while playing with a Playmobil pirate ship. I’m finding it hard to focus. And he’s calling me to join him.

As a writer, I want to compose a few more thoughts.

As a mom, I must excuse myself.

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