We spent the last week in Park City with my parents and my sister and her kids. (By "we" I mean me and the kids--Dan spent the week in Massachusetts at Williams College learning about how to teach forensic chemistry. Now he knows all sorts of useful things like, how drug tests work, how to figure out where the bullet comes from, how to type blood--the sort of basic stock techniques for any good CSI-type show).
Now, most people associate Park City with cool things like the Winter Olympics and the Sundance Film Festival. Our annual treks to Park City don't look much like that, for one because my parents don't like to go out to eat, so my mom routinely packs enough food for two or three weeks (even though we're only going to be there for one--and there *are* grocery stores in Park City, even if they are a little more expensive than shopping in bulk at Costco).
We also don't frequent trendy boutiques--although we do visit the outlet mall quite a bit. (The store clerk at Gymboree even recognized my mom! To be fair, she'd just transferred from the Provo store.) One one outing to the mall, I ran into two girls I knew from high school (although they were in Jared's class) *and* the clerk who checked us out was from Hungary. It's been a long time since I spoke with a "rendes Magyar." I wish my Hungarian were better than it is--she told me that my accent was good (but I doubt that she has a very large pool of Hungarian-speaking Americans to compare with!).
Mostly, we spend our days hanging out in the hotel suite, playing games with the kids (or letting the kids watch a movie while Jeni and I tried to write--which happened a couple of times. Apparently writing is infectious--who knew?). We also went swimming with the kids--although the first few days in Park City were hardly promising, since the high temps were in the 50s and low 60s. It did finally warm up, which was a good thing since Andrew could hardly stand waiting.
We even went down the Alpine slide with the kids. Jacob got to go on his own, since he was the only kid who was tall enough (and we didn't have quite enough grown-ups to accompany all the kids). I think he enjoyed it--but he went so slowly that he had three sleds backed up behind him when he reached the bottom. Evelyn reportedly loved it (she went down with my mom)--saying "woo hoo! woo hoo!" all the way down the side of the mountain.
Dan got back late Friday night and joined us in PC--we came back yesterday, stopping by Sarah's house to say hi.
All things considered, it's been a good week.
We have some "Evelyn-isms" to reward those of you who've waded this far:
At Park City, grandpa was helping her find her shoes. She said, "you find them in there, and I'll find them in here."
Today on the way home from church, Andrew ran into her and bonked her knee. A little while later, she told me "I'm tired. My knee is tired. And my hurt knee is tired."
Finally, tonight at bedtime, she ran to the bathroom telling her dad to "make her toothbrush appear."
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Writing, writing, writing
If you caught my last post at Segullah, then you'll know what I've been doing all week.
I've been re-learning how to write creatively at the Writing and Illustrating for Young Readers conference. I realize that I was blessed on two counts: first, that I had the resources to pay the conference admission; second, that my saintly mother agreed to watch my kids for long hours each day last week so that I could attend the conference. (And that is why this week's post is All About Me--if you read this blog to keep tabs on the rest of my family, you'll have to wait untilo next week.) Plus, my sister was at the conference (she talked me into going with her), so it was extra fun on that count. (Okay, that sounds like it could be sarcastic--it really isn't. I loved seeing my sister there, although it was a strange experience for me, as the older sister, to be somewhere where everyone knew my sister rather than me. But I think that was probably healthy for me).
If you read my segullah post--or even my blog post on my *other* blog, you'll know that I was really nervous coming into the conference. It's been ten years since I really wrote creatively--what if I discovered that I really can't write?
I'm still not convinced that I can write--but I came away from the conference believing that if I'm willing to keep working at it, I can *learn* to write.
The conference went something like this: in the mornings we had small critique group sessions with a published author (mine was with Claudia Mills, who is a fabulous human being in addition to being a published author of 40 middle-grade and picture books, *and* a professor of philosophy at the university of Colorado). There were about 13 students in my class, Claudia, and Cheryl, our assistant. Most mornings were spent critiquing each others' manuscripts--and I was amazed how much I learned even from the critiques of manuscripts that weren't mine. What I loved most about Claudia was her ability to "take the gold out of Egypt"--although she didn't shy away from honest critique, she was also genuinely enthusiastic about the possibilities she saw in everyone's manuscript. I imagine everyone came away feeling a bit like I did: that my manuscript was still rough, but it could be great.
In the afternoons, we went to larger sessions where published authors delivered presentations on various aspects of writing (developing characters and scenes, revising, etc.). The authors whose sessions I attended included: Brandon Mull, Kathleen Duey, Emily Wing Smith (whose Back When You were Easier to Love I'm reading right now and loving it), Louise Plummer, Kristen Chandler (author of Wolves, Boys, and Other Things that Might Kill Me) and Heather Dixon (author of Entwined). Louise Plummer gave a hair-raising presentation on how to write suspenseful novels, using Stephen King's Misery as an example. (Not being a big fan of horror, I found her presentation funny and, well, horrifying.)
I think I can honestly say that I learned more from this week long seminar than I did from the creative writing courses I took in college (granted, there weren't too many of those). I also learned that--not to brag or anything--I'm pretty good at critique. It helps to actually have a language now to describe the things I was seeing that aren't working; I wonder if my students will appreciate my new gift or not?
I also got lucky, I think. Apparently (and this is supposed to be kept a little under wraps, but since we're all friends here and only 3 of you read it anyway, I thought I could mention it. Plus, since this is to all intents and purposes the only journal I keep right now, I need to record this moment for posterity) each teacher was allowed to choose one or two students from her class to meet with one of the agents or editors who were there. I was lucky enough to be one of the students from my class (and I did feel lucky--the other girl who went from my class is a much better writer, I think).
The exact purpose is a little murky to me still--I was under the impression that I was going to get a manuscript critique; my sister (who was assistant to Louise Plummer's class) told me that we were actually supposed to *pitch* our idea to the person we met with. In any case, I met with a really nice editor who gave me some good feedback on my first chapter (basically, I need to get to the point quicker--ironically enough, the same feedback I've often gotten from my academic advisors!). She asked me what my novel (well, if you can call it that when I have less than 30 pages written) was about, and I stammered a little but finally got it out. In all honesty, I felt a little silly when I left. I had gotten helpful advice for revision (and my class later responded positively to my revision), but I left with the feeling that I had really underwhelmed the editor. However, the next morning Claudia pulled me aside to tell me that the editor had actually liked my story idea; and another of the teachers (who I know a little through Segullah) told me that when the teachers asked the agent and editors if they'd found anything promising, the editor I met with mentioned my story (!).
Of course, promise is a far cry from actually making good on that promise. And I'm still a long way from finishing the manuscript. But I did come away from the conference with the motivation to keep writing and--I think--with some of the tools I need to achieve that vision. Now I just need to find a good critique group to keep me on task . . .
I've been re-learning how to write creatively at the Writing and Illustrating for Young Readers conference. I realize that I was blessed on two counts: first, that I had the resources to pay the conference admission; second, that my saintly mother agreed to watch my kids for long hours each day last week so that I could attend the conference. (And that is why this week's post is All About Me--if you read this blog to keep tabs on the rest of my family, you'll have to wait untilo next week.) Plus, my sister was at the conference (she talked me into going with her), so it was extra fun on that count. (Okay, that sounds like it could be sarcastic--it really isn't. I loved seeing my sister there, although it was a strange experience for me, as the older sister, to be somewhere where everyone knew my sister rather than me. But I think that was probably healthy for me).
If you read my segullah post--or even my blog post on my *other* blog, you'll know that I was really nervous coming into the conference. It's been ten years since I really wrote creatively--what if I discovered that I really can't write?
I'm still not convinced that I can write--but I came away from the conference believing that if I'm willing to keep working at it, I can *learn* to write.
The conference went something like this: in the mornings we had small critique group sessions with a published author (mine was with Claudia Mills, who is a fabulous human being in addition to being a published author of 40 middle-grade and picture books, *and* a professor of philosophy at the university of Colorado). There were about 13 students in my class, Claudia, and Cheryl, our assistant. Most mornings were spent critiquing each others' manuscripts--and I was amazed how much I learned even from the critiques of manuscripts that weren't mine. What I loved most about Claudia was her ability to "take the gold out of Egypt"--although she didn't shy away from honest critique, she was also genuinely enthusiastic about the possibilities she saw in everyone's manuscript. I imagine everyone came away feeling a bit like I did: that my manuscript was still rough, but it could be great.
In the afternoons, we went to larger sessions where published authors delivered presentations on various aspects of writing (developing characters and scenes, revising, etc.). The authors whose sessions I attended included: Brandon Mull, Kathleen Duey, Emily Wing Smith (whose Back When You were Easier to Love I'm reading right now and loving it), Louise Plummer, Kristen Chandler (author of Wolves, Boys, and Other Things that Might Kill Me) and Heather Dixon (author of Entwined). Louise Plummer gave a hair-raising presentation on how to write suspenseful novels, using Stephen King's Misery as an example. (Not being a big fan of horror, I found her presentation funny and, well, horrifying.)
I think I can honestly say that I learned more from this week long seminar than I did from the creative writing courses I took in college (granted, there weren't too many of those). I also learned that--not to brag or anything--I'm pretty good at critique. It helps to actually have a language now to describe the things I was seeing that aren't working; I wonder if my students will appreciate my new gift or not?
I also got lucky, I think. Apparently (and this is supposed to be kept a little under wraps, but since we're all friends here and only 3 of you read it anyway, I thought I could mention it. Plus, since this is to all intents and purposes the only journal I keep right now, I need to record this moment for posterity) each teacher was allowed to choose one or two students from her class to meet with one of the agents or editors who were there. I was lucky enough to be one of the students from my class (and I did feel lucky--the other girl who went from my class is a much better writer, I think).
The exact purpose is a little murky to me still--I was under the impression that I was going to get a manuscript critique; my sister (who was assistant to Louise Plummer's class) told me that we were actually supposed to *pitch* our idea to the person we met with. In any case, I met with a really nice editor who gave me some good feedback on my first chapter (basically, I need to get to the point quicker--ironically enough, the same feedback I've often gotten from my academic advisors!). She asked me what my novel (well, if you can call it that when I have less than 30 pages written) was about, and I stammered a little but finally got it out. In all honesty, I felt a little silly when I left. I had gotten helpful advice for revision (and my class later responded positively to my revision), but I left with the feeling that I had really underwhelmed the editor. However, the next morning Claudia pulled me aside to tell me that the editor had actually liked my story idea; and another of the teachers (who I know a little through Segullah) told me that when the teachers asked the agent and editors if they'd found anything promising, the editor I met with mentioned my story (!).
Of course, promise is a far cry from actually making good on that promise. And I'm still a long way from finishing the manuscript. But I did come away from the conference with the motivation to keep writing and--I think--with some of the tools I need to achieve that vision. Now I just need to find a good critique group to keep me on task . . .
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Animal rescuers extraordinaire
After last week's adventure with the calf, we again found ourselves in the position of baby animal rescuers. Sort of.
On Thursday, I took the kids to a local park with a duck pond. We brought old bread with us to feed the ducks. The kids were thrilled--especially when we spied a duck with seven brand new ducklings (judging by their size, they couldn't have been more than a few days old). However, we quickly learned that ducks don't always make good mothers. While we watched, the mother wandered off toward the water, the ducklings straggling after her as well as they could. The pond here is surrounded by large stones and boulders, so while the duck made it to the water just fine, only two of the seven ducklings made it with her. Then the mama duck turned around and climbed back out of the water, leaving the two ducklings stranded (neither of them could climb over the rocks to get to the mama). The ducklings started peeping frantically.
I thought, briefly, about trying to scoop the ducklings out of the water, but I couldn't remember if ducks were among the birds who would ignore a baby with human scent on them. Instead, the kids and I tried to herd the mama duckling back toward the water, where she could rescue her lost ducklings (she didn't seem very interested in them). When she got close to the water, one of the ducklings finally made it out of the water and Andrew herded it towards the mama duck. We never did find the seventh duckling, although we circled the entire pond looking for it.
One good thing I learned from the episode: I may not always be the mother I want to be, but at least I'm better than a duck!
Other adventures from the week:
Monday afternoon I had the privilege of meeting with some old college professors of mine (I took the kids with me, and they were surprisingly well-behaved). I took a history of civilization course from Francine and Robert Bennion my freshman year at BYU and it was one of my favorite courses while I was there. They taught me a lot about thinking critically, about connecting different historical and theoretical threads. This time, however, we talked about their grandkids, about things we've been doing recently, and Brother Bennion told me stories of his grandfather, who once had Butch Cassidy steal his boots--and who had the gall to steal them back from Butch Cassidy. I've been thinking a bit recently about what the move to digital technology means for universities, and while I think that online lectures can probably replace certain courses, there's something irreplacable about the unique interaction between good teachers and a class full of interested and motivated students. I'm not sure you can replicate that in an online environment (certainly you can't replicate the hikes we took together as a class).
On Tuesday, we had dinner with my friend Cristie and her family. It's lovely to reconnect with old friends--an it makes me happy that our husbands seem to get along well too. Andrew cried when we left--although it wasn't entirely clear if he was sad about leaving his new friend Ben (Cristie's seven-year-old son) or Ben's bionicles . . .
Wednesday morning I took the kids birding near East Bay. We were hoping to see a peregrine falcon (an online bird guide said it was possible to see them in that particular area), but of course that didn't happen. We didn't see a lot--some pelicans, kingbirds, robins, magpies, etc. But I did see a hawk that I still think might be a rough-legged hawk. But Andrew still seems gung-ho for birding, which thrills me no end.
That afternoon, because the weather was *finally* nice, I took the kids swimming at a local splash park/pool. They were surprisingly good--probably because I'd threatened that we'd leave if they didn't stay by me.
Thursday, as I mentioned, we went to the park. That afternoon, we visited a new friend I've made through Segullah who is on bed rest for her pregnancy. It's not often that I feel like I've met a true "kindred spirit" (ala Anne of Green Gables), but I think Emily is one and it was a pleasure to talk to her. Unfortunately, we enjoyed talking so much that I missed my dinner prep-responsibility and had to make it up the next night.
Friday, we were supposed to go up and see Sarah, but Lydia was feeling feverish, so we stayed in town. We didn't do much--we ran errands and in the afternoon Jeni brought her kids over--but those few State College folks who read our blog might be interested in knowing that we ran into Julie Nelson (and her three boys) in the grocery store parking lot.
Saturday, we made our trek up to see Sarah. We took the kids to the zoo (despite the fact that it was one of the first nice Saturday's after school got out). We got passes, so we didn't feel obligated to stay too long. We did go to the bird show, which was more exciting to Andrew than it has been in the past because he knows more about birds now. He finally got to see his peregrine falcon, and was all excited to mark it down in his bird guide. I haven't had the heart to tell him that one's birding list is suppposed to be a list of birds seen in their natural habitat . . .
On Thursday, I took the kids to a local park with a duck pond. We brought old bread with us to feed the ducks. The kids were thrilled--especially when we spied a duck with seven brand new ducklings (judging by their size, they couldn't have been more than a few days old). However, we quickly learned that ducks don't always make good mothers. While we watched, the mother wandered off toward the water, the ducklings straggling after her as well as they could. The pond here is surrounded by large stones and boulders, so while the duck made it to the water just fine, only two of the seven ducklings made it with her. Then the mama duck turned around and climbed back out of the water, leaving the two ducklings stranded (neither of them could climb over the rocks to get to the mama). The ducklings started peeping frantically.
I thought, briefly, about trying to scoop the ducklings out of the water, but I couldn't remember if ducks were among the birds who would ignore a baby with human scent on them. Instead, the kids and I tried to herd the mama duckling back toward the water, where she could rescue her lost ducklings (she didn't seem very interested in them). When she got close to the water, one of the ducklings finally made it out of the water and Andrew herded it towards the mama duck. We never did find the seventh duckling, although we circled the entire pond looking for it.
One good thing I learned from the episode: I may not always be the mother I want to be, but at least I'm better than a duck!
Other adventures from the week:
Monday afternoon I had the privilege of meeting with some old college professors of mine (I took the kids with me, and they were surprisingly well-behaved). I took a history of civilization course from Francine and Robert Bennion my freshman year at BYU and it was one of my favorite courses while I was there. They taught me a lot about thinking critically, about connecting different historical and theoretical threads. This time, however, we talked about their grandkids, about things we've been doing recently, and Brother Bennion told me stories of his grandfather, who once had Butch Cassidy steal his boots--and who had the gall to steal them back from Butch Cassidy. I've been thinking a bit recently about what the move to digital technology means for universities, and while I think that online lectures can probably replace certain courses, there's something irreplacable about the unique interaction between good teachers and a class full of interested and motivated students. I'm not sure you can replicate that in an online environment (certainly you can't replicate the hikes we took together as a class).
On Tuesday, we had dinner with my friend Cristie and her family. It's lovely to reconnect with old friends--an it makes me happy that our husbands seem to get along well too. Andrew cried when we left--although it wasn't entirely clear if he was sad about leaving his new friend Ben (Cristie's seven-year-old son) or Ben's bionicles . . .
Wednesday morning I took the kids birding near East Bay. We were hoping to see a peregrine falcon (an online bird guide said it was possible to see them in that particular area), but of course that didn't happen. We didn't see a lot--some pelicans, kingbirds, robins, magpies, etc. But I did see a hawk that I still think might be a rough-legged hawk. But Andrew still seems gung-ho for birding, which thrills me no end.
That afternoon, because the weather was *finally* nice, I took the kids swimming at a local splash park/pool. They were surprisingly good--probably because I'd threatened that we'd leave if they didn't stay by me.
Thursday, as I mentioned, we went to the park. That afternoon, we visited a new friend I've made through Segullah who is on bed rest for her pregnancy. It's not often that I feel like I've met a true "kindred spirit" (ala Anne of Green Gables), but I think Emily is one and it was a pleasure to talk to her. Unfortunately, we enjoyed talking so much that I missed my dinner prep-responsibility and had to make it up the next night.
Friday, we were supposed to go up and see Sarah, but Lydia was feeling feverish, so we stayed in town. We didn't do much--we ran errands and in the afternoon Jeni brought her kids over--but those few State College folks who read our blog might be interested in knowing that we ran into Julie Nelson (and her three boys) in the grocery store parking lot.
Saturday, we made our trek up to see Sarah. We took the kids to the zoo (despite the fact that it was one of the first nice Saturday's after school got out). We got passes, so we didn't feel obligated to stay too long. We did go to the bird show, which was more exciting to Andrew than it has been in the past because he knows more about birds now. He finally got to see his peregrine falcon, and was all excited to mark it down in his bird guide. I haven't had the heart to tell him that one's birding list is suppposed to be a list of birds seen in their natural habitat . . .
Sunday, June 05, 2011
In search of the questing beast
(My title has nothing to do with the post--except that I've been reading T.H. White's The Once and Future King).
Yesterday was one of those halcyon late spring days: the sun shone in a clear sky; the air temperature was mild (not too warm, not too cold); the wind blew (it always does, where we live), but it was gentle rather than gale-force. After weeks of unseasonably rainy, cloudy weather, everything seemed surreally crisp, like the first time I put on glasses. It was lovely.
After driving home Friday evening, we spent Saturday morning putting in a garden. This will be our first time with our own garden, so we'll see how it goes. Dan turned over the soil and fertilized it (special thanks to my mom for weeding it so thoroughly when she was here last month); I took the kids to Home Depot and bought some plants: cucumber, cantelope, strawberry, red pepper, eggplant, peas. The list itself makes me drool a bit--we love fresh produce.
In the afternoon, Dan mowed the lawn, Evelyn napped, and Andrew and I made rounds of the neighborhood, Andrew on his bike and me on foot. After Evelyn woke up, Dan had a brainstorm and took the training wheels off Andrew's bike and tried to teach Andrew about balance by sending him across the newly shorn grass. Andrew crashed--a lot. But at least on the grass it didn't hurt. Evelyn sat on my stomach and watched. Andrew was actually in pretty good spirits during the whole process, until he abruptly decided that he wanted the training wheels back and started to cry.
For dinner that night, Bubby and Poppy treated us to Wendy's. We ate in the backyard, as the long shadows of evening stole across the lawn. It really was as nearly perfect as a Saturday can be.
Other highlights from the week: Monday was Memorial day, so we had a Collings family confab at my parents house. We were missing only my youngest brother's family, but we managed to catch up with them a little over skype in the midst of the party. My sister was there with her husband and kids; my brother Jared was there with his two kids (Mitcee wasn't feeling well).
Tuesday *and* Thursday afternoon I met up with my old friend Cristie and we talked while the kids raced arond various parks in the area.
Thursday morning we got kicked out of the house (my parents were having their countertops replaced), so we went to Jeni's house and hung out. We even had an adventure while we were there. Jeni's neighbor owns several cows, and Wednesday night one of the cows had had twins. However, this wasn't quite the happy even that it sounds like. The cow, whether out of maternal indifference or ignorance, was ignoring one of the calves. That calf had lain all day in a patch of grass that Jeni could see from her back windows. The owner checked on the calf periodically, but the mother hadn't been near it. Finally, Jeni went out and asked the owner if she could help. The owner said no (she was waiting for her husband to come home and help her), but she told Jeni that the kids could come out and pet the baby.
So we trooped all five kids out through the cow field to see the baby. Some of the kids were brave enough to pet the baby (it was bigger than most of them, even if it was newborn); others were a little daunted by the loud, distressed "moo" that the calf emitted. I'm not sure if the calf was inspired by the adoration or frightened by it; in any case, it stood up for the first time since 8 am that morning (this was around 2 p.m.), and Jeni and the owner, Karen, managed to herd the calf into the other field where it finally found its mother and started suckling. Karen was understandably relieved and told the kids that they had saved the calf's life. Then she took the kids into the chicken coop/barn and let the kids collect the eggs that were there (all 6 of them). Only 4 of the eggs made it home, but Andrew still wants to go back to Jeni's for the express purpose of collecting eggs. (You can see pictures of the baby and read a different perspective on Jeni's blog, here.)
There was, unfortunately, one negative aspect of our visit to Jeni's. Andrew and Jacob were mock wrestling and Andrew bit Jacob. Twice. Hard enough to leave teeth-marks that were still visible two hours later. I thought biting was something we'd gotten over when he left nursery (if not before then)--in any case, he was quickly disillusioned about the appropriateness of biting when his dad got home.
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