Maisy is a terrier. And though there are three dogs in our house, Maisy is most definitely my dog. She is territorial, bossy, snuggly, and fiercely loyal. We have many things in common. We both have trouble making friends. We both want to burrow under the covers and have everyone leave us alone to nap. We both think that if everyone just did things our way the world would be a better place. We are both pretty awesome.
Last summer my girl decided she was going to write a book. She spent numerous hours on it over the course of several weeks. Then, before I knew it and could stop her, she decided it was garbage and deleted it to start over. Heartbroken mama. Now that we are homeschooling, she has decided she Hates to write. After spending the past 2 months “decompressing” from school and encountering resistance to anything she thinks resembles school, we have succeeded in motivating her to do math with Khan academy and practice her piano. Oh, I have caught her interest momentarily with stomp rockets, learning the states/maps, and the american revolution, but it has mostly been beating my head against a wall of resistance. I have been begging her to write anything, a book report, a journal entry, a page of the same word over and over, to no avail. This morning I have finally succeeded. The subject of the writing: How annoying my mother is. Whatever it takes…..
I. am. a. writer. (if I say it enough times it becomes true, right?) 🙂
When I was 5 I wanted to be a writer. I created a paper called the Harlan Gazette and sold it to my grandparents. It only included good news.
When I was 10 I wanted to be a writer. I wrote poems about the planets and a short story called Jerry & the Tipperan about a boy who was visited by aliens.
When I was 15 I wanted to be a writer. I wrote my journal to the unknown audience who would read it after I died and dreamed of traveling the world writing for National Geographic.
When I was 20 I wanted to be a writer. I took poetry and fiction classes while pursuing my journalism degree.
Somewhere along the way I got sidetracked. I became a bookseller (which I loved) but then spent t 15 years having an identity crises and trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.
I’m reclaiming the dream. I. am. a. writer. Get ready to read.
My daughter was riding around the neighborhood on her bike. On one trip through the ‘hood, she stopped to talk to a friend and did not pass by the house in her usual time frame. I found myself wishing I had some sort of gps device to attach to her so I knew where she was all the time. Then I thought that is one step away from implanting a tracker like they do for dogs and as our generation of media-fed paranoid parents starts thinking that sort of thing is a good idea (if she got kidnapped you could track her!) , in a couple of short generations the entire populace is tagged and the government can track us all. My conspiracy theory grandfather’s mind totally would have gone there. Miss you, you old coot!
Look for Sun Valley Mama to resurface in the new year!