Something Quick

In theory, a good hostess would be turning down sheets and plumping pillows for her tired guests. I, however, am on the computer, and via Ali and Anastasia @ Ypulse, I’ve found these interesting nuggets:

There’s a Phillip Pullman comic strip, to be included in a new Random House magazine, which looks SOcool — “Only completely original material will be published in the DFC. No advertising, just 100% storytelling delight. Joy in an envelope,” David Fickling comments. A story magazine for kids? With a weekly strip by Phillip Pullman!? BLISS!

Nancy Yi Fan, together with her family emigrated to the U.S., just before the attacks in New York in 2001. What an awful time of confusion it was. Nancy had a strange dream about birds — one she turned into a story. Hoping to receive writing tips, she sent it to publishing houses. HarperCollins gave her more than writing tips — they gave her a contract. “Nancy’s first book, Swordbird, is a fantasy about warring birds. Nancy Yi Fan was 12 years old when Swordbird was published last year. Within weeks, it reached the top of the New York Times list of best-selling Children’s Chapter Books.” Visit VOA News for the rest of the story. Has anyone of you read Nancy’s book? They’re calling her a prodigy, and talking about her next one!

PW has a heartfelt piece on everybody’s favorite girl-next-door author, Sarah Dessen. Why do we (and teen readers) all love her? ‘Cause her heart is still in high school. Go, Sarah!

Do you swear as a conversational filler? How about the characters in your stories? Do they? Some interesting thoughts on YA’s and profanity. Should parents, as is suggested in this article in the Sacramento Bee teach their kids swearing ‘etiquette?’ What would you consider etiquette? I am honestly asking this question ’cause I think of weird stuff like this when I’m writing. When do your characters swear? Or do they?

All righty. Off to pretend I’m a good hostess.

Poetry Friday: Sleepy, Sleepy, Sleepy…

One terrible weekend when I was nine, I met a strange boy at the beach who walked up to me, said hello, and proceeded to make bad jokes. He was eleven, and today (a few years past eleven), he’s our first house guest since we moved to the UK.

Sometimes old friends are the ones who make you the most anxious. I am just shattered I’m so tired. I haven’t been sleeping — because I’ve been cleaning the house in my dreams. Stupid, no? But that’s the way my mind unhinges at times. And so, a bit of Shel Silverstein for me.


Whatif by Shel Silverstein

Last night, while I lay thinking here,
some Whatifs crawled inside my ear
and pranced and partied all night long
and sang their same old Whatif song:
Whatif I’m dumb in school?
Whatif they’ve closed the swimming pool?
Whatif I get beat up?
Whatif there’s poison in my cup?
Whatif I start to cry?
Whatif I get sick and die?
Whatif I flunk that test?
Whatif green hair grows on my chest?
Whatif nobody likes me?
Whatif a bolt of lightning strikes me?
Whatif I don’t grow talle?
Whatif my head starts getting smaller?
Whatif the fish won’t bite?
Whatif the wind tears up my kite?
Whatif they start a war?
Whatif my parents get divorced?
Whatif the bus is late?
Whatif my teeth don’t grow in straight?
Whatif I tear my pants?
Whatif I never learn to dance?
Everything seems well, and then
the nighttime Whatifs strike again!

The rest of the poetry pals are over at Kelly’s. Wishing y’all a blissfully peaceful completely unexceptional weekend of relaxation.