Unpacking

Wow, what a weekend!

I just got back from NYC, and it's official: I heart NY. What an amazing place. So let me unpack a bit.

The RPB Conference was wonderful. A fantastic group of about 25 people met and discussed picture books and the intricacies of rhyme, meter, and publication. Yep, I was in heaven.

Huge thanks to Angie Karcher, the maestro of this event as well as of RhyPiBoMo, a monthlong challenge to come up with rhyming picture book ideas. Her team was so welcoming and helpful, and I felt like I made some friends. Now I need to work to keep in touch with everyone!

I also had the pleasure of chatting over lunch with Julie Gribble of KidLitTV, the host of the conference. Not only was it a warm and welcoming space, but KidLitTV is an amazing organization that produces videos and podcasts that support and enhance children's literature. Incredible what they're doing.

The Poetry Postcard Schmooze was a lot of fun, even if I felt a little self-conscious and out of my element--only because cocktail parties and chit-chat are not where I'm most comfortable. (Put me in a wig and a tutu and it's a different story.) But I don't think I managed to offend anyone, and I collected a bunch of cool postcards and business cards, and hopefully some contacts in the biz that will develop into friends/mentors/colleagues.

I particularly hit it off with Kendra Marcus, an agent who liked one of my ideas. Chatting with her has lit a fire under me to flesh out this particular idea into something really good. She seems like someone I'd be happy to work with, and she offered great, straightforward advice. (She also emphasized the same mantra I find myself using when I'm editing and reviewing: Where is the story? Right away I knew I liked her!)

So I am home, and my butt is in my chair, and I am writing. What better result from a literary conference?

Thankful

I'm a couple of days late, but that's to be expected from me.

But before this season of thanks completely passes by, I wanted to say a few words of gratitude.

I am thankful, of course, for my health, and that of my family and friends. I am thankful to be surrounded by such beautiful people, my children and my husband in particular, and the concentric circles of loved ones around us, whether they are physically near or far. I am thankful for the food on our table, the roof over our head, the muggy warm November New Orleans weather, and the chance for a few empty minutes to sit and contemplate how blessed I am.

And this year, I am thankful to have the opportunity to spend my time and energy on the thing I love to do most: writing. Editing, reviewing, reading, supporting other writers, building and participating in writing communities--they are of a piece to me, and for the past several months I have been devoting my time and energy to the pursuit of the word.

The muse and I are getting down and boogieing.

Last year, and the previous year, and the years before that (though interspersed with stay-at-home-mothering) I had jobs, the kind where you go to an office and wear sensible shoes and answer the phone and get things done for other people. But when my job began to take over my life, and I realized that I was no longer doing what brought me joy and I felt like I was shriveling up and my health was beginning to suffer, I knew I needed something else.

And then, because of the generosity of my family, particularly my in-laws, an elderly relative's passing became a moderate largess for us. My husband's grandfather, Ammon, always encouraged and supported my writing, and when he passed on at the age of 100, the money he left behind has allowed me to quit my job and focus on building a writing career.

For that, I can barely conjure words to describe the mixture of joy and, I must admit, shame, that I have been offered this opportunity. It's a gift; it's a burden. Now it's my responsibility to make something happen, not to waste these golden hours devoted to writing.

So I want to express my gratitude, to put it out there publicly that I am aware of how lucky and privileged I am, and it humbles me. It also motivates me. Money does not last forever, and unless I make this work, become a paid, card-carrying Writer, I will have to find another office job. Which is not the end of the world. As long as I am able to keep writing.

Let's boogie, Calliope!

Investing

In my previous post, I wrote a bit about investing in kids and in literacy.

This time, I'm thinking about investing in me.

I'm very excited to be attending the Rhyming Picture Book Revolution conference in New York in a couple of weeks. At the same time, I'm feeling the pressure of what it means for me to buy plane tickets, pay the conference fee, and reserve a hotel (more of a hostel, but still). This is a financial undertaking on behalf of a dream.

Gulp.

At this point, there are no guarantees that I'm going to make a living as a writer. I have my skills, my background, and my determination. I'm working against my own resistance, building a portfolio, sending out my clips and my work, getting paid for some of it. I'm reaching out to other writers and editors to find a community I can connect with.

But when I get practical about it, it's not like I'm making something that anyone can hold in their hands. I come from a family of builders and engineers, people whose jobs make things, and who work jobs that pay the bills.

I'm still in that ether, where I can see the destination, vaguely, through the haze, but there is so much unknown between here and there. So much that depends on me, my ability, my persistence--but also on others' opinions of my work. Is it good. Will it sell. Will it be accepted.

So it's a leap that I keep on making. I leapt into writing full-time. (Well, part-time, since I'm the primary caretaker of my boys, so I have to write around their schedules.) I leapt into a new genre: children's literature. I leapt into paying good money to try to build that community and further this nascent dream into something tangible.

I know that I am extremely lucky to have this opportunity, and I am grateful to my supportive husband and generous family that have made this possible. The pressure is on. I need to make good on their investment in me.