GETTING WHAT YOU ASKED FOR

I was floating in my cousin's pool in Las Vegas a couple of weeks ago, after visiting her daughter's new baby, and I talked about how scattered my life feels. I recall saying something like, "I wish I had an assignment or a project that ties most of these facets together...writing, illustrating, consulting and editing peoples' work for them, etc. Family is a given, but professionally I can often be all over the map, between plein air painting trips, gallery work, book dummies and writing.

This is the umpteenth lesson that you get what you asked for, but not always in the form you envision it. Thanks to a professional friendship with a dynamic educator, I am starting a short term, intensive project, working with a wonderful Native writer in Anchorage on a history textbook that will explain Alaska Native Claims Settlement Act to upper elementary students and to make it relevant and fun. As an ex-6th grade teacher, I know it has to have humour. My job will be to edit, illustrate and plan the format of the book.

So, as I head for Anchorage tomorrow for the first meeting on the project, I must say thank you for a job that is daunting but puts many parts of myself together. Like many creative projects, the deadline is formidable. I think we can do it,
but you may not hear from me again for another three months.

And I can't wait to get back to Alaska.

So, my message is this, I guess. We all lead complicated lives that seem more complicated the more we try to list all the things we do, but once in a while a project comes along that ties things together. When that happens, hope for an understanding family, dust off those tools of organization (I have few), and grab that ring.

TIME OFF AND A PERFECT MORNING

This morning a friend called to say she was going to do some photography at a local farm, 30 acres of row vegetables and orchards that supply one of Sebastopol's most popular restaurants, The French Garden. Did I want to go with her and paint while she was taking pictures?

My first response was that I had too much work to do, too many paintings from other outings that needed finishing touches as Open Studio weekends approach in June, as well as a long overdue storyboard for a book, etc. But, some lovely said, "Is it true that you are going to turn down a 70 degree day of painting and time with a good friend?" So I grabbed my pastels and headed out to join her.

My first reward was foxgloves...on of my favorite flowers, and
the painting you see is called FRENCH GARDEN FARM. It needs cleaning up, and I brought home another that needs finishing. Both are reminders that sometimes when we take time off we can do our most rewarding work.

I realize, with reminders like this morning, how many of my best ideas, my most pleasurable writing, starts with "time off". I think one of the joys of being an artist is that we are always working with our minds. The more disciplined part of our jobs...the cleaning up, the editing, the revising may feel like work, but most good ideas start with pleasure.

In this economy it is tempting to try to create what we think will sell instead of what pleases us, and we feel guilty (or at least I feel like I'm not trying hard enough) when work feels like time off.
So, at schools and conferences lately I have been asking teachers and administrators if it is possible to create a time in the day for unfinished projects...to start something that doesn't have to get done, to experiment, so that the students can experience the exhilaration of starting on a new idea and the freedom of a little time off in a creative environment. Schools have authors,, like myself, come and talk to the students about our finished projects, which I love to do. But I also talk to them about how much fun I have had with unfinished, or as yet unpackaged ideas. It is my wish for them as well, that there is time in their day for this, for it is the place where good work comes from.

SHEEP

We went out painting a couple of weeks ago. I packed my pastels and we were graced with a windy, but warm California afternoon at a sheep barn. I remember when my grandparents had a copy of a painting of sheep in the pasture over their couch. When I was little, I thought it was delightful..the sheep were in the distance and the hills behind them made it complacent scene. It was a land I wanted to walk through. But, by the time I was an adolsecent, I thought it was the most boring painting I had ever seen. Sheep, for heaven's sakes, just following what life had to offer.

But here I am looking at things from a more childlike view and I still love sheep. I love the way the sun hits their backs, the shadows on their dirty wool, and the fact that they move like clouds across the pasture. We make fun of sheep. They seem to have no thoughts in their heads, but when you watch them they are contented clouds floating across the land, like cartoon balloons, that change with the light, making them ordinary or dazzling. And then if you stand and watch them or paint them long enough you will suddenly see them moved as if by the same wind running towards....you guessed it...the next piece of grass. We can fill those cartoon balloon sheep with whatever thoughts we have that might be complacent... they become vessels for our most peaceful thoughts. But the best part is that I think they are content with being who they are.

SPRING AND NEW BEGINNINGS

Spring may not be officially here, but the calla lillies are coming up and our new granddaughter, Gracie, arrived last Friday. And, like the calla lilies beginning to open , there is so much hope and promise in that beautiful package. Grace is simply beautiful, all 8 pounds, 20 inches of her, crowned with a head full of black hair. And like a good caregiver, on the way home our grandson, Jack, said, after giving it sober thought, "I will be a good big brother. I take care of Gracie." It is his first chance to watch something grow, to teach, to be patient, and to help this little girl make her way through life.

And, of course, he will soon decide how she "should be" so that she fits into his life well. But if Gracie is like her mother, she will have a mind of her own. For those of us who write and illustrate we know that in the course of allowing those budding ideas to grow up, we have to sometimes just watch and tend them until they are ready to bloom. There is nothing more exciting than a new idea, but sometimes, stories and art have an idea of their own. The painting above was started a year ago about this time, but I kept trying to make it into something else, something calmer (actually I tried to tame it down to make it look like a pastelist's work that I admire). After a while I put it away, and when I took it out to look at it again, I remembered what it was all about....it was not just about the beauty of the flower but also the energy of spring. So I quit trying to tame it, and let it be what it wanted to.

The same thing has happened with many of my stories, of course. I have to keep getting them out and asking them, "Who are you? What are you made of?" instead of "What can I turn you into?"

So, I could probably learn a deeper meaning to Jack's serious words and apply it to my own work. I will take care of you. I'll let you sleep when you need to, and when you are ready I will help you grow into who you are meant to be.

PIGEONHOLING OUR GOALS

For those of you have joined my blog after August and watching Julie and Julia, you will know that it has only occured to me in the last few months that blogging is just another form of writing, and I am a writer. At first, a year or so ago, it seemed like foreign territory. I was a picture book writer, not a blogger for an invisible audience of adults.
But a couple of weeks ago I went to a local SCBWI event and listened to Annie Fox speak. One of her main messages in a talk that was so informative about use of the internet..the tweet, the blog, the fan clubs, etc, was that we shouldn't separate one type of writing from another.
I'm still thinking about this, with full knowledge that I am the first to put a label on myself for the sake of having some kind of identity. So, when I started a novel a year or more (I'm sure) ago, I felt my heart beat faster and some kind of grade school mentality creep in that said, "You can't do this. You are a picture book writer, not a novel writer, or a chapter book writer." The voice didn't think to say, "You're a writer, you can do this." And I have decided that if we make each change in our work a bigger step in our minds, filled with fear, our ego has a chance to say..."Wow, look at you. You are trying to write a novel!" When, in truth, I'm just writing in a different voice about a different subject.
So, something in my brain keeps saying for the sake of my ego that writing in different genres is a brave leap, instead of saying, "You're in the same house, for heaven's sake...all you have to do is go to another room and look out a different window."
If you want to know how ridiculous this can all be, I have been a book illustrator for almost 20 years, and moving into gallery art has felt like a big leap. It is just a change in packaging, and getting to know other editors (gallery owners) and other critiquers (buyers). Some of my visions come out in books, and some come out in "wall art", but they are still art, and whether they are landscapes or folk art, they still tell a story. And I think that is one of the basic goals of humans...to tell their story.

Annie's talk was a breath of fresh air in a time when we have been taught to claim our identity with a label of what we do, who we work for, and how "successful" we are. I am finding a great admiration for those who do not walk a straight line into fame, but let themselves head into different arenas, even if they feel like they might not be on a path any longer. Steve Jobs has a great talk hosted through www.ted.com, in which he speaks about how we cannot connect the dots in our life looking forward, only looking back. I think it has been, along with Annie's talk, one of the most inspiring talks I have listened to.

And, speaking of being on the path, do you remember the story of Little Red Riding Hood. She got in big trouble getting off the path. She met the wolf, picked flowers, etc....and that all gave her a great story to tell. so for those of you who have strayed off the beaten path, not pigeon-holed yourselves, I say congratulations...you have a most interesting story.

ANOTHER REASON TO HONOR THE INNER CHILD

Ok, so this my memory of the Yellow Submarine and, to those who know me, it is no surprise that is my grandson's trip underseas. The picture came about because he was part of the first crowd to see the new Aquarium in San Francisco. For a short period in his life that I hope repeats itself, his joy came from seeing life underwater...fish, octupus, turtles, etc. I love the excitement that comes when he moves to a new interest, partly because I still have a kid in me that moves from one fascination to the next. I often feel that this feeling is immature, that I should stick with a set of interests for a while. But the truth is that I want that same fascination all over again and I head for it. I am a fascination junkie.

Last night the gallery I belong to had a reception for one of our plein air painters. He finds his fascination in local scenes, and the ever-changing light and color of landscapes everywhere. But as I get to know him I know his paintings are appealing because he is happy when he is creating them....the whole process, standing in changing weather, painting fast and by instinct after years of practice and always finding something new that he can add to the process. It is this happiness and energy that we feel when we see his work.

In a conversation last night, a supporter of the gallery said my art makes him happy because it makes him feel like a child. He also said that one of my prints from the north reminds him of Chinese art. He had lived in China when he was younger. He did not evaluate my art, just told me how it made him feel, and picked a logical reason why he liked it. I think what he could feel was that I was happy and somewhat full of childlike abandon while creating the art. There is something inside of me that believes others can share the feelings we have while creating someting when they see it.

I admire people who spend as much of their time possible doing what makes them feel full of energy. Often when we do things that make us happy, we refuse to feel like we have done any work. When I wrote one of my picture books, I kept trying to find things to improve in it because it wasn't as hard to write as some of my others. My editor finally said, "Not everything needs to be hard to be good." Somehow we have equated work and quality with sacrifice, and if things are easy, we feel we should be "working" on something harder. I would like to think that working on our own happiness is the best career we could have, and while it may take energy, it is good energy, a chidllike energy that other people can enjoy as well.

CREATING A NEW YEAR

Well, it is not the beginning of the year anymore, and half of a month has gone by. But if I didn't get hung up on time and its problems, 2010 has been a year I have floated through so far.

Part of that is due to the Santa Clara Reading Association Conference at Asilomar, a reading conference on the beach where I was well taken care of as a speaker, and in the company of other authors, artists, librarians and teachers. There could be nothing better in my mind. Right after that was a trip to Campbell, California in the San Jose and a day at Fammatre School, a school that is proof that there are still happy schools teaching happy students. Two other authors will be coming this week...Bob San Souci, and Jeff Savage. I had such a good time speaking to the kids and recharging my own batteries of creativity.

So, while the year is off to a wonderful start, I have work to do. Starting a new year is like getting the idea for a book. For some reason, you think it will be finished by the end of the year. But the truth is I am still working on projects from three years ago...they might be done in a month or it might take all year. I am still painting in the studio, finishing a vineyard painting I started while painting outdoors several weeks ago. And I am still creating three new stories...all of which I can only hope I will "finish".

January is a time of relaxation and expectancy, and when our mind is cleared of the obligation of success that comes towards the end of the year, it is a time of creativity because no matter how we are programmed it seems we think of life in years. I keep hoping that way of thinking will change, but it is up to us to make the change if it is going to happen. So while, in my mind, I am lining up projects that will get done this year...books to complete, paintings to be done, I know that they are all part of an ongoing process.

While all these new things are getting started, I look to the past that I can count on. This year, my grandson turned two. I still get to take care of him one day a week and on the days that we are together I get reminded of how wondrous our world is because he tells me. The image above, called Jack's Tractor was his birthday present from me. He loves his grandpa's tractor and knows the names of just about everything that grows in the garden. When he comes next week, he will find all kinds of lettuces growing and tell me more stories.

Jack has a sister coming, so his "world" will change. All of us have changes coming this year. They are all worthy of stories. I hope that we can keep track of the potential for all of these stories.

A STORY TO PLAY FORWARD -FOR MY MOTHER

As I start 2010, I have some unfinished business. I need to start a new blog that is strictly for that purpose. It will be called FINDING DIAMONDS....the name of a talk I've given to libraries and those involved with elder care. The "diamonds" are books....books that are adult, YA, and picture books that can be introduced, shared, and eventually read to those who find themseles needing to move from the longer, thicker books in the adult section of the bookstores and libraries. The reason for this may be poor vision, illness, loss of memory and/or shorter attention span.
My mother always read to me as well as to the neighbor children. She did not have a degree and did not have friends that shared her love of books. But she knew I needed it, and also invited the neighbor's children in to listen at story time. When she moved down here in her 80's there was a little boy at the screen door the night before we moved her waiting to be read to.

When she was 94 we began to notice some changes in her own reading skills. While she stayed highly active on the social scene, she was no longer finishing the novels she started...stating that she "just couldn't get into the book". Or she would realize part way through that she had already read that title not long ago (I already can do that, myself). She became bored more easily, and complained that books jumped around forwards and backwards and were harder to keep track of.
I slowly realized her books were too long and filled with too many threads to follow. She needed books to sweep her away but that were shorter and written in a straightforward manner. I also realized as I gave her some of my YA books to read that she was not familiar with YA books. And because I was a picture book writer and illustrator, she was open to me sharing wonderful picture books with her.

It was time to give my mother back the gift of reading that she had given me. I will talk more in depth about this but, to make a long story short we read my mother backwards. I picked books that reflected her life, her interests, or the life I had lived. I gave her TISHA, the story of a young teacher who moved to Canada to teach in a rural area. I brought her OUT OF THE DUST because she was a child of the Great Depression, had roots in the midwest and grew up on a farm. She read BEYOND THE MANGO TREE because she was diabetic, and I read short stories from THE FEATHER MERCHANTS because she had a wicked sense of humour. As she was reading these books on her own, I found picture books that reflected some of the things we had talked about, THE PAINTER WHO LOVED CHICKENS, NIM AND THE WAR EFFORT, MAILING MAY. She was open and willing to having books shared with her.

When she wasd 96 she was diagnosed with cancer. She only lived a week after that but during that week as she slipped in and out of sleep I re-read books to her that she was familiar with. It eased my fear and discomfort and she would smile occasionally and nod, and I would like to think that the familiar voice and words were soothing to her time of transition.

In order to read my mother backwards, I needed to find diamonds...books that read straightforwardly, with a limited amount of threads and characters to keep track of, books that fit her interests, background and passion. The benefits were a renewed interest in story, a diversion from some of the pain and boredom that often come with illness and aging, and often a trigger for memory and reminiscence.

I talked to Jim Trelease whose contributions to reading children forward is amazing, and he said it was a topic that has yet to be addressed. So here it is. And here is what I want from those of you who are interested. I would like to add to my list of books. I would like some examples of the types of people you think these would appeal to. When I get this blogging thing down better, I will begin posting my collected list that has been added to by librarians and friends.

My dream is a database of books well silently as well as aloud, a place we can type in the characteristics and interests of those we are close to, and up will come books that are just right for them. I feel that those who would benefit from this effort are hospice workers, nursing homes, family caretakers and companions, adult literacy programs and families moving from literacy to literature.

Let me know if you are interested. I want this in place when I need it.

GIVING THE OLD YEAR AS A GIFT TO THE NEW YEAR

We have just returned from our cabin in the Trinity Alps where we had a quiet New Year's with no TV or computer, a wonderful brunch with old friends the next day, and I was thinking on the way home....what would I choose to wrap up from 2009 as a gift for 2010. So, at a risk of waxing nostalgaic, here are some things I would put in a little box. When I open the box this years they will be memories that will scoot me forward into the direction I want to go this year.
On a David Lettermen note we will start with....
10-Getting ready to teach under a visiting professorship at Hollins University. Going through the last 10 years of writing and illustrating to decide what to teach. It was a walk down memory lane.
9- Babysitting for my grandson once a week and having him tell me each time he wants to paint with Grandma.
8-6 weeks of teaching at Hollins and meeting part of the next wave of writers's for children, and having my youngest daughter live with me for 6 weeks.
7- My first art show at Stephans Fine Arts in Anchorage. It is one of the galleries I dreamed of being in "someday" when we lived in the bush in Alaska.
6- Finishing the next two manuscripts, which have been buried for four years.
5- Listening to my grandson tell his first story last month and then say "teasing Grandma" .
4- Joining the Sebastopol Gallery, and learning the ying and yang of the fine art world.
3-Learning how a business works, how to work a gallery, how to be a merchant selling other people's work as well as my own.
2-Going to a retreat at Asilomar, where writers went to work, but ended up talking about what was really important in their lives and what we have to offer.
1-This is selfish, but a few days ago I received a gift....a book of Inuit Women Artists, art I have studied and admired for years. I am not there yet, but it is where I want to go.

And there should be a no-brainer part of this...meeting new people who have similar views on the world, children who are all doing well, and pursuing their own dreams while forming families and careers, a husband of 40 years who supports my work, while becoming a master meat maker...coppa, pastrami, sausage, salamentes, etc.,. I think these may be the things we take for granted...so they can be the wrapping paper for the last ten gifts that will move me forward into 2010.

I visited with two writing friends today, and will meet with many more next week.and know I should put their support in the gift box as well. So if you have a chance, check out the work of Marsha Diane Arnold, Milly Lee, Stacey Schuett, David Schwartz, Marilyn Sachs, Matt Gollub, Susan Meyers, Lisa Schulman, Julie Downing, Ashely Wolff, and others.

A late Happy New Year to you all, and I would love to hear what is wrapped in the gift box for 2010.