Lou and David Sears

So many things have happened since I last posted.  I reread my last blog written over 5 years ago and hadn’t remembered that my last posting was about my mother.  The summer before she passed away, I was diagnosed with Multiple Myeloma.  I wasn’t able to travel much after my diagnosis because of the chemo I was receiving and subsequent stem cell transplant.  My last visit with my mother was in the fall of 2013.  I didn’t tell her about my cancer.  She was in failing health and didn’t need to worry about me.

Right after my stem cell transplant, I had to take off a half a year from teaching.  I thought…wow, all this time to write!  But, I couldn’t.  I found I didn’t have the energy or brain power to even revisit or revise some of my previous stories.  I returned to teaching that fall and haven’t written anything since then.  I am retiring the end of this school year and look forward to having more time to write.  I haven’t given up my dream of becoming a published children’s author.

It’s been very difficult lately to come up with a new idea for a children’s book. My mind continuously goes to my mother’s story. She has had an interesting life and has made it through several difficult times with grace.

My mother’s mother (my grandmother Marie) was married to an alcoholic who would frequently take off and leave his young family. Grandma Marie couldn’t take care of mom and sent her to be raised by her grandparents in California. Mom remembers being sent packages from time to time from her mom. They were usually dresses or skirts that her mom had made for her. (She’s wearing one of them in the photo.) She remembers other kids at school teasing her about being “given away” by her mother and how much it hurt her.

Great Grandpa Curry was a strict, cranky man who didn’t believe girls needed an education, so Mom was made to quit school after 8th grade. Mom said she cried and cried. She loved school and didn’t want to quit. Soon after, Mom was required to work as a migrant worker following the various seasonal crops up and down the state. Mom said they often lived in tents with dirt floors and worked in the fields from sunrise to sunset. She said much of this time is a blur.

When Mom was about 17 she came back to Missouri to live with her mother in Leadwood, Missouri. Mom remembers walking to the post office and boys sitting on the steps whistling at her. Our dad, Marvin, was one of those boys. He worked up the courage to ask Mom out on a date. Dad was so taken with Mom that he proposed after three weeks and they ran off to Paragould, Arkansas to get married. (There was no waiting period for marriage licenses in Arkansas at the time.) They moved to St. Louis so Dad could find work. Exactly nine months and twenty days later I was born. Debra, Marilyn, Sharon, and Daniel came soon after.

This is the story I want to tell for many reasons. Mom is not doing well and is now being seen by Hospice. I want Mom’s great-grandchildren to know about her life and the difficulties she had to face. She has always been one strong lady and needs to draw upon that strength to make it through this last stage of her life.

I’ve been thinking recently that I’m not very good at writing a story about something unconnected to my life.  Some writers are wonderful at writing fantasy stories about other worlds and characters they create.  Each of my stories have a connection to my childhood, my family, or my friends.  They are never written in an autobiographical way – just always anchored to something I’ve experienced.  My first story, Clara Finds Her Roots, blends my personal search for my Irish roots with my Granddaughter Clara’s curiosity about her Irish middle name.  My second story, Cross My Heart, tells the story of a quilted bear given to a young girl who gives it to her friend and then regrets her decision.  I actually received a beautiful rag doll made by my Grandma Daisy and gave it to my best friend in elementary school.   My third story, Chasing Tornadoes, is based on my experiences growing up with a dad who envisioned himself a storm chaser.  The idea for my fourth story, Mr. and Mrs. Cranky Pants, a story about cranky neighbors and their cranky cat, came from a couple of experiences with neighbors as a child.  My fifth story, The Little Tree, about a little girl dealing with the realities of having two homes after her parents divorce, is loosely based on the experiences of my husband and his daughter.

Some day I hope to become a published author and have the experience of sharing my stories with students and teachers.  Maybe I’ll have the opportunity to share the “roots” of my stories and inspire children to write the stories of their lives!

Last spring I noticed that the new little dogwood that we had planted the year before was blooming.  It reminded me of the beautiful red bud tree we had in our backyard at our house in Prairie Village.  I was teaching 4th grade many years ago and the students received free trees from the Missouri Conservation Department.  At the end of the day three little trees were left.  They looked dead, but I wrapped them in damp paper towels and brought them home.  David and Katie planted the little trees together next to our patio.  We didn’t think they would live, but the next spring they sprouted leaves and even some blooms.  The trees grew together and created one large beautiful tree that shaded our deck and continued to amaze us with gorgeous blooms each spring.

Remembering this tree sparked an idea for a book – The Little Tree.  The story is not only about planting a tree, but the difficulties children have when their parents divorce and having two homes.  It’s loosely based on David and his daughter Katie and to a small extent my granddaughters Clara and Lily.  It’s told through the view point of the child and what she experiences.  I’m working on revisions and plan to send it to a few publishers in the next couple of months.

For a recent Critique Group meeting, I looked back at my first attempt at becoming a published author. “Clara Finds Her Roots” was my first real manuscript that I sent out into the world. It began as a wordy (over 1,300 words) picture book idea. I didn’t know you shouldn’t approach published authors and ask them to read your story and offer suggestions – you are suppose to be invited to do so. Oops! I had gotten to know a couple of authors pretty well from being Conference Chair for the Missouri Reading Association, and wanted their opinion. They were gracious and read my story and offered suggestions. My story wasn’t very good at that point so after making several revisions and getting it down under 800 words, I put it aside and worked on other stories. This week I looked at my first story again and have decided that I really like my little story about a girl who discovers her Irish roots. Thinking about sending it to some publishers who are interested in historical fiction.

How does one find an agent?  That’s the question I’ve been pondering lately.  Many of the big publishing companies will not take unagented submissions from aspiring authors but how do you find an agent to handle your manuscripts – that is my quest as of late.  One agent I queried last year said she needed to “fall in love” with three stories from an author before she would represent the person – she “loved” two of the three I submitted to her.  She is the closest I’ve come to getting an agent.  I just sent out queries to two more agents this week – already received a reply from one of them.  They said they weren’t a good match for my manuscript – wish they would have said a little more so it would help me with the next submission.  I also submitted my bear story to an editor this week – gotta keep trying – right?!  So goes the writing life….

When things are hectic and writing takes a back seat, should a writer feel guilty about not writing?  I’ve often read blogs of famous writers and some not so well-known writers who state that you must find time to write every day to be a successful writer.  Do they have lives outside of writing?  I wonder… 

There are so many times that I think of great story ideas and jot down my thoughts – saving them for sometime in the future when I will create that “next great picture book.”  Sometimes days and weeks will pass by before I look up those story ideas and start to flesh out a story.  I start to feel guilty about putting my writing on hold until I remember that I began this process many years ago – actually in 5th grade.  I used to write stories with my best friend Pam.  She would write 12 pages and I would try to out do her by writing a story with 13 pages.  Usually they were fantasy stories about a princess being rescued by a handsome prince.

So, for me, writing has been a process – much like the aging of fine wine – that takes time.  Those story ideas will still be there tomorrow…

Where do we get inspiration for our stories? I’ve found that my inspiration has come from my own experiences as a young girl and from my family. I grew up as the oldest in a family consisting of four girls and one boy. My dad was a minister and my mom was a stay at home mom until I was 12. There are many “precious memories” that I drift to when I am writing. My “Chasing Tornadoes” story came from my experiences with my dad and his interest in finding where the storms were. He often would say, “If I know where the tornado is, I will know which way we need to go to be safe.” I wrote the story because I thought it was so different from most kids’ experiences that they would find it an interesting and quirky read.
My story “Cross My Heart” came from my personal experience of giving away a beloved cloth doll my Grandma Daisy gave to me. My story is what I wished I would have done had I had the courage.
My story “Mr. and Mrs. Cranky Pants came from my childhood as well. We lived a couple of doors down from an old couple when I was in the 5th grade. They were a little odd and never came out of their house. When my sisters, brother, and I went to their house for Halloween, the man and woman would make us sing a song or say a poem before we could have any treats. For some reason we were slightly afraid of them because they were different from most people we knew back then.
My first story “Clara Finds Her Roots” came from the fact that my oldest granddaughter Clara has my maiden name as her middle name. Knowing kids like I do from teaching for over 30 years, I imagined Clara would wonder about her middle name as she gets older. My story tells the story about a little girl finding out about her ancestry.
Whatever our inspiration for our stories might be, when it feels right you know it. You’ve got to write from your heart…