A Break Until Spring

So, my friends, my new year didn't stumble in tipsily, nor did it gently knock. It shattered my front door as sure as Vader blasted Alderaan. It has my full attention.

I must bow out (again!) of the blogging in order to do the living. It's a new living, and a challenging one: learning how to be a single mom, learning how to bid farewell to a love that leaves . . . as well as just lots of learning as I take four college courses while teaching part-time.

I know I disappeared last year, too. It's totally fair if you're not around when I come back. BUT! I'll come back in April. AND, I will offer you one of the BEST parting gifts!

My parting gift is the name and face of a new favorite: PATRICK ROTHFUSS


Back story: Laini herself first told Jen and me about Patrick Rothfuss when we met her in Chicago. Hearing we were from Wisconsin, Laini mentioned a great fantasty writer from Steven's Point. Okay, ANYBODY Laini recommends, I need to read. Unfortunately, I quickly forgot his name. Ack! But how can you blame me? I had just met Laini Taylor.

In December, Laini posted a picture of the back of her UK edition of DoSaB, and Rothfuss wrote the blurb on it: "Wow. I wish I had written this book." I thought, He blurbed her? How fantastic is that? And oh, yes, that's how you spell his name?

So I checked out his book, The Name of the Wind:


And friends, it's gorgeous. It's 700 pages of oh-my-god-he's-three-years-older-than-I-and-how-the-heck-did-he-get-so-amazing?-and-he-lives-an-hour-away!-and-I-want-to-eat-ramen-with-him-and-his-girlfriend-and-learn-everything-he's-ever-thought.

Wait, that was way too much inner dialogue.

It is, honestly, a beautifully-written tale of a young hero named Kvothe. Kvothe is a boy traveling with his troupe-family when disaster strikes. He struggles to survive for years before finding haven at the University. There he learns the magic of sympathy, but what knowledge he really seeks is a) how to call the name of the wind and b) how to find and conquer the baddies that attacked his troupe. Kvothe is a brilliant boy living in a ruthless world. Honestly, Kvothe is teaching me to take my licks these days better than any creed or self-help book. The boy gets knocked down every other page, it seems. But I'll be damned if he doesn't get back up every single time.

Check out Rothfuss' webpage and blog to learn more. (His blog Worldbuilders has raised over half a million dollars for Heifer International over the last several years. How fantastic is that?) And maybe, if you fall in love with the beard as much I do, watch a video or two of him to hear some of his thoughts of genre writing, Simon and Garfunkel, and trying to make the world a better place.

Rothfuss is coming to Appleton in April for our spring book festival. I'll be sure to return then with a post on his visit. Hopefully a couple of you will have joined Kvothe in his battle against the scrael and have enjoyed his captivating lute playing at the Eolian in Imre. :)

Keep writing. Keep hoping.

I'll talk to you soon.

I Dreamed of My NaNo Last Night

So a student came into class declaring, today. “Did you dream of your story, or did you dream of you writing the story?” I asked her.

“Of me writing,” she said.

What happiness! A small sprawl of seventh graders swarmed my classroom floor and wrote this morning. Today we NaNo WriMo-ers are living our dream of writing. What propels us from our ‘such stuffs’ into reality? Or, a stiffer metaphor, what shots of inspiration are you knocking back? Here are a few of mine:

1) A practical, hilarious list of NaNo preps on Lola Sharp’s fantastic blog. Do read it; you’ll be so glad to learn that others stock freezers, warn spouses of hygienic neglect, and of course, avoid all hosting responsibilities.

2) Laini Taylor’s recent post on Creating Your Life. It’s pasted beside my kitchen sink, so I can remind myself not to shrink my dreams while I’m cleaning Clara’s breakfast dishes.

3) My kitchen. This is where the magic will happen. One of Laini's Ladies smiles down amidst a flourish of mirrored butterflies. The script on the side of the purple-winged fairy quotes Rumi: "I am so happy, I cannot be contained by the world. I have blossomed so much, I am the envy of gardens." So mote it be. :)

4) M.T. Anderson’s talk at the National Book Festival last year. Quite a bit of his talk here is the same I heard last month; the Dogtown anecdote is missing because it was new and therefore had, as he said, the vigor of the unrehearsed. Watching this clip, you will be inspired by his glorious romance with geography. Also, you will learn he is hypoglycemic. Terribly, terribly important resource material.

4 1/2) M. T. Anderson's talk on Place from 2007. As mentioned in my earlier post, it’s by my mirror so I can memorize it while coiffing. I’m up to, “I would like to speak of Stow, Massachusetts.”


Okay, now I'm off! I have seven pages to write before my girl gets up in an hour. :) Wish me the best of luck; I'm sending all my best loves and laughs to you. Happiest of writing, Dreamers.

Love and Magic

We partied at school today, students and teachers alike. Of course I had to try to coil a bright blue wig around a couple of paint brushes, wear my new favorite wishbone, and go as Karou. :)


I hardly do her justice, right? But I had to try. I carried my signed copy of Daughter of Smoke and Bone around the halls with me, sharing the good news of brilliant Laini Taylor to all who would hear. :)

Incidentally, the Queen of the Night there, beside me, is Becky, our science teacher. Becky is the smartest person I know. How can she be that adorable AND know everything about everything? It's not fair. Stars? She knows them. Volcanoes? Knows 'em. Fishes? Knows. Physics and spiders and electricity and turtle poop--she knows about it all. I love LOVE working across the hall from her. I hear the weirdest, most disturbing stuff through her open door, especially when gerbils die, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

And since I'm sharing things I love, I have to again say that I love M. T. Anderson. I read this speech he shared while accepting the Boston Globe/Horn Book award for The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing, and I've decided I'm going to memorize it. I'm hanging the speech beside my mirror so I can ingest its wisdom and vocabulary while curling my hair. That way, when he comes back, I can say so much more than, "Thank you for coming to Wisconsin." I can say things like "fatuous emotion," "vertiginously rapid," and "vernacular of Americana."

I also read this short piece about his telling a classmate about the color of dinosaurs, and I laughed so hard I cried.

And then I found this lovely, long interview from years ago. I learned others love the M. T., too, and also that he hates the word 'slacks' because it smells of thigh-sweat.

Just passing the good word tonight--there's so much out there to love. Halloween, and amazing coworkers and characters and creators. What are you just loving tonight?