Every Good Book Needs a Dog

Trust Your Instincts to Fly: Family Writing Day, Christakis

2011-10-20T21:59:00.000-07:00

Christakis happens to be my favorite restaurant here in Orange County, yes. They happen to serve the most delicious and authentic Greek food, yes. And, the owners happen to be some of the loveliest people I know, yes (but not just because they're Greek, no.)

Well, in August, Christakis became something even more to me. A Family Writing Experience.

As a pretty large group, we settled around the angel (fountain) in the charming patio. Sure, it was a SoCal heatwave --but thanks to Sarah Wallace, one of the generous owners, we had lemonade (fresh,) strawberries, and hummus and veggies. To top it off, we had a community of writers--7 years old to...let's just say-- the age of wisdom. Together, we were ready to write, share, learn, and take risks.

We dove into the writer's toolbox, discussing powerful verbs, sensory details and how to show not tell. Brainstorming. Sharing. Creating. After a sense memory activity, the group got busy and wrote--and what arose was something beautiful. Rich, textured experiences, read proudly, under the sunshine, with our muse standing guard at the door.

It was a magic that I hope lasted well beyond our three hours together.

I am proud of this community of writers. Willing to leap off the cliff and trust their instincts to fly.

Courage, passion, and perseverance.

Emergency, Escape, by Mallory, Gr. 7

2011-05-11T09:54:00.000-07:00

"Emergency"

It's a dull, dismal

pounding in the back if my skull.

How it came about

does not matter, only

how to get it out.

"Escape"

I sit

here. My back

cramping,

from the

position I

am in.

Living their

lives, at their

sides.

But a book,

isn't an

escape route.

It's only

dream.

Strawberries, a poem

2011-03-15T08:34:00.000-07:00

STRAWBERRIES

Strawberries

Scatter in fields, stuffed in baskets, in my bowl

Strawberries

Thick and ripe, twin to a heart and rose

Tiny as a button, big like plums

Strawberries

Yum, yum, yum. O’h yum say the slithering slugs and snails

Sweet as sugar in my mouth or tasty lemon limes

Wrinkled noses from the spring smell

Strawberries

Oh I love strawberries

I'm Going to a Place

2011-03-12T11:50:00.000-08:00

I’m going to a place

Where I choose my path

Where the road to success or failure lies in my hands

I’m going to a place where life is dull and gray

Where sugar tastes bland

And everyone who cares for me

Will turn their backs on me

I’m going to a place where I’ve become nothing

Where my future has crumbled

Where the clouds of doubt and hopelessness follow me around

I’m going to a place

Where life is at its best

Where sweet sugar flows in abundance

Everyone I love surrounds me with care

Where life will have trials with rewards

I’m going to a place

Where my whole future is set in front of me

Doubt does not exist in a mind ready for success

Where failure is never an option

I may not know what my future has in store

But only I decide what my next move is

I’m going to a place

Where I choose my path

Stowaway, book review by Mallory, 6th grader

2010-05-31T12:40:00.000-07:00

Stowaway

by Karen Hesse. Here are some reasons why I liked it:

It is true historical fiction, which I love.
It shows the life of a young boy who is facing hardships in his life.
It is full of humor and adventure.
It demonstrates friendship between two unlike people.
It shows a interesting adventure facing disease, natives, and huge hurricanes.

Like Bookends in Portland

2010-05-13T14:55:00.001-07:00

Like Bookends in Portland

By Lori Polydoros

Everybody’s got a story. Even Portland, if you can find your way inside. Only one way to travel through the city’s maze of one-way, criss-crossing streets that change names. Take The MAX across the Columbia. Take the time to slow down. Read. Listen.

So Helena, an Oregon transplant from Minnesota, rides into town to meet friends. She’s a mother of four who works in the securities industry. But at heart she's a writer. A woman with many stories to tell— stories of heartache and joy , apparent in her generous smile. Helena discusses the never-dull job of parenting. Her story rings true. We are all storytellers. But only a few are lucky--or crazy enough-- to write them down and send them along the winding path of publication.

Portland is full of hip cafes, ethnic food stands, and vintage clothing shops. If you’re lucky, you’ll see the moustache-clad transvestite in fishnets and pink boots. But a perfect destination looms ahead. Powell's bookstore. King of the independents. A writer and reader's Pleasure Island. The musty, intoxicating smell of old books wafts through the endless rooms, singing stories written by old friends like Mark Twain, Neil Gaiman, and Rick Steves.

Outside Powell's, dread-locked Rashib carries a sign: "VEGAN, HUNGRY, HOMELESS, AND HANDSOME." He munches rainbow veggie pizza and talks of the world. Rashib has traveled the globe with this very same sign—once written in Indonesian. He's an author, too, and has been writing like crazy lately. Look for his book soon in the stores--GLOBAL NOMADS, he says.

So many storytellers. Like bookends, Helena on the way in to Portland, and Rashib on the way out. All of us diverse with crazy different life experiences. Yet all eager to share our stories, to share our piece in this massive, interconnected maze of life.

I Can't, a poem by Ariana, 6th grade

2010-04-29T11:16:00.000-07:00

I can't make clocks tick faster,
I can't make make the waves calm by the shore,
I can't make the grass on the other side greener.

I can make a friendship with you ,
I can love you for what you are and who you are,
I can make you feel like all your troubles are gone.

I can't make clocks tick faster.

Book Review: The Wringer, by Esteban, 6th grade

2010-02-06T20:20:00.000-08:00

The book I read, "The Wringer," by Jerry Spinelli, was awesome! This relates to me because the main character was in a struggle about being a wringer or not. I think he is confused, and I feel the same way. If I were him, I would choose not be a wringer because it would be bad to crack some pigeons skulls. Unfortunately, he doesn't have a choice, he has to go. The rule is when you turn ten, you have to be a wringer.

By Esteban

Poem by Katherine, Grade 8

2010-01-13T14:55:00.000-08:00

Night reminds me of day.
Day reminds me of night.
I sit in the middle.
Watching both fighting over earth.
I am not matter.
Yet I do exist.
I am not darkness.
Yet I do exist.
I am not nothing.
Yet I do exist.
I am the one and only anti-matter.

Dreams, by Ariana, 6th grade

2009-11-27T19:12:00.000-08:00

Dreams:

Scary

Wonders

Uplifting

Confusing

Lost

Found

Hope

Love

Anger

Sadness

There’s a lot to wonder about

It feels so real at times u don’t want to wake up

Then at times, you can't stand it

Times you forget

Then times hard to forget

Some times it’s like everything you wanted

Some times it speaks the truth

You always wonder how and what and why you dreamed this

That’s how I feel

The memories stay

While some just fade away

BOOK REVIEW: JESSICA'S GUIDE TO DATING ON THE DARK SIDE

2009-11-17T18:46:00.000-08:00

Hi I am Ariana and the book I read is :Jessica's Guide to Dating on the Darkside, by Beth Fantaskey

The book was amazing!!!! Twilight fans will love it. I just couldn't but the book down,because each page has something going on.The reason I like it is because it was easy to be in her head and feel how she felt; how she's just a normal teen (I mean a vampire teen). So i highly recomend the book!

Book Talk by William, 6th grade: THE END, by Lemony Snicket, 13th book, Series of Unfortunate Events

2009-10-13T17:14:00.000-07:00

A Series of Unfortunate Events" written by Lemony Snicket is a fantastic series for people of all ages. I like it because it is always unpredictable and really funny sometimes. It's about 3 children who become orphans after a terrible fire, and an evil man pursuing them whereever they go in an attempt to steal their fortune.

To prove how funny he is, I have written down the description on the back of the last book "The End" as a sort of sneak peak

Dear Reader,

You are presumably looking at the back of this book,or the end of THE END. The end of THE END is the best place to begin THE END, because if you read THE END from the beginning of the beginning of THE END to the end of the end of THE END, you will arrive at the end of your rope.

This book is the last in A Series of Unfortunate Events, and even if you have braved the previous twelve volumes, you probabley cant stand such unpleasantries as a fearsome storm, a suspicious beverage, a herd of wild sheep, an enormous bird cage, and a truly haunting secret about the baudelaire parents.

It has been my solemn occupation to complete the history of the baudelaire orphans, and at last I am finished. You likely have some other occupation, so if i were you I would drop this book at once, so THE END does not finish you.

With all due Respect,

Lemony Snicket

I hope you enjoy the series as much as I did.

With all due respect,

William, 6th grade

Every Good Book Needs a Dog

2009-10-11T19:08:00.000-07:00

After reading a writing prompt: IS THERE A CHARACTER WHO ACTS AS YOUR MUSE?on http://www.literarymama.com

It didn't take me long to realize who it was.

Mo.

My first child. My furry, best friend. My muse.

It all started in spring of 1991 when I rescued a border collie puppy. I was a grown-up now, and Jessie was my first dog. We had two weeks at the beach, park, and nights curled up together. But Jessie was sick and I didn't know it. Early one morning, I found her twirling in circles, her mind unreachable with Parvo. Jessie never made it home. My world crashed, and I couldn't stop the tears.

Fast-forward a few months. A pregnant golden retriever had been rescued from the pound. And now, a litter of puppies needed homes. Nine black fur balls scurried around, quickly disappearing into a hole they'd dug. Mo was the first one to crawl out. She flopped into my lap, chewed on my fanny-pack, and won my heart. She chose me.

As a lanky teenage, she licked, jumped on people, and emptied and ate the trash. Worst of all, she ate expensive things that belonged to my roommates (remote controls, Birkenstocks bought in Sweden.) But I knew that I had something special. She became my first child. My best friend.

Whether hiking in the Sierras (where at 4 months, she retrieved my chapstick from the middle of a lake) or riding shotgun in my Toyota Tercel, Mo never left my side. She loved other animals even after getting chased by a ferret or kicked by a burro. She cruised down the hallway wearing a backpack where I taught 2nd grade. She bopped balloons on her nose until they popped, often gathering a crowd. Mo never missed the chance to climb an old oak tree.

Mo made it through three moves, a husband (she wore a white ribbon to my wedding!) and two kids. She hid her ball in car seats, cribs, and diaper bags. No matter what or who took my attention away, she waited, famous red ball in mouth, ready to play.

Mo has appeared in my children's stories, and inspired me to write my first picture book, DON'T LICK THE BABY. I longed to sell the book before she passed, but Mo became ill at age 14. The day before she died, DON’T LICK THE BABY won a picture book award at a conference in Los Angeles. My heart thumped as I received my certificate. The universe had spoken.

Mo helped me find the "write" path again.

Now, it’s an adventure with three neurotic, (yet loving,) rescued dogs. Leo “the wall walker” was unusual enough to make it on The Dog Whisperer TV show. But even the sum of the three don't quite add up to one of Mo. When I write, Mo is on my shoulder, barking to be let in. In some way or another, I open the door.

Mo taught me how to love and how to be loved. She's with me. When I walk a trail. As I splash in ocean waves. When I write.

Every good book needs a dog.

And for Mo, I am forever grateful.