Children's Books

A children's book is a great design challenge.  There are many things to consider -  the story, writing style, illustration, page layout, font, size, cover, ect.  I'm seeking writing tips/ideas for my stories and drawings.  I've been browsing through children's books at libraries, book stores, coffee shops and thrift stores.  I also read a little to the kids each week at work.  I'm getting better with the voices.  Reading out-loud is an under appreciated skill in which I've yet to develop.  Anyhow, it's hard to beat a good picture book.  Here are a few of my favorites:

• The Mitten
• Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
• Tikki Tikki Tembo
• The Eleventh Hour
• Corduroy
• If You Give a Mouse a Cookie
• The Stinky Cheese Man and Other Fairly Stupid Tales
• The True Story of the 3 Little Pigs
• The Story About Ping
• The Giving Tree 
• Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs 
• In the Night Kitchen

Dated a Mermaid

I once dated a mermaid, but it didn’t work out.  Life under the sea just wasn’t for me. It was too cold, dark and wet down there – too many sharks and not enough air.  I missed the flowers, trees and leaves – the animals, insects and the coastal breeze. 


So, with a tearful goodbye I left behind another love that just wasn’t to be.  I still think about her now and then, while lying on a beach or during a swim.  But then I just smile and bury my toes in the sand, grateful for my wonderful life on land. 

Highway 299 Revisited

Highway 299 is a hair-raising, 150 mile sliver of one-lane road that connects Arcata to Redding.  It winds alongside the Trinity River, cutting its way through the rugged Alps of Shasta-Trinity National Forest.  The drive is as dangerous as it is spectacular.  Semi-trucks blur by you as you jet down summits and accelerate out of hairpin turns.  The highway is home to Whiskeytown Lake, dozens of epic swimming holes and tiny river communities - including a charming historic mining town named Weaverville.  The drive allows for stunning panoramic views of rolling Humboldt County hills and jagged Trinity Alps' cathedrals.  My phone and I would like to share with you a glimpse of this heavenly highway:

WHO are you?

ERR’s are hesitant.

EEW’s are gross.

YUM’s are yummy.

WAA’s are sad.

GRR’s are angry.

MMM’s are satisfied.

ZZZ’s are tired.

HMM’s are curious.

SHH’s are quiet.

HAA’s are silly.

HUH’s are confused.

AHA’s are inspired.

*So now, dear reader… WHO are you?

Easter Bunny

Ha! I've finally trapped the Easter Bunny!

Year after year, oh the terrible tricks he played.

May after May, that rancid stench of rotten egg...

Happy Easter 2011!

Allergies

Close the window, please...

Love's in the air and it's making me sneeze.

Turn the fan on, please...

Love's in the air and I've got allergies.

Phony Students

No one would ever question a random pedestrian if they walked into a large lecture room at HSU and took a seat before class began. Why don’t more people do this? Give yourself a schedule consisting of only classes taught in large lecture rooms (there are plenty to choose from). Attend class on a regular basis, buy the text books, do the homework and mingle with the classmates. After a few weeks, you’ll forget you’re not a student and accidentally turn something in or raise your hand.

After hours, the art labs on campus are available to anyone that looks halfway human. 90% of the school’s library is open to the general public – as are sporting events, events on campus, guest lectures, open gym and dining halls. Is this a problem that schools are concerned with - phony students receiving a free education by simply filling empty seats? Maybe, but I never got that impression. Perhaps it’s worth investigating.

Tuition at HSU: $5,755
School without the pressure of grades: Priceless

*I’ve decided to forever ignore the last comma in a list, the comma before “and.” It seems redundant. Example: Red, orange, blue and yellow. Doesn’t that look cleaner than red, orange, blue, and yellow? Maybe I’ll keep the comma but drop the “and.” Red, orange, blue, yellow. Straight to the point.

Freaks

Freaks don't follow, ya follow?

The Unbearable Lightness of Being

As I understand it, “lightness” is that floating feeling you get after divorcing yourself from responsibility.  For example, imagine one day you decide to quit the crappy job you hate.  You struggle to hold back shouts of joy as you leave the office for the final time.  You get in your car and buckle your seat belt when it occurs to you…why not get on the phone and break-up with that noncommittal “girlfriend” of yours while at it?  You do just that.  You then drive to the nearest gas station to fill your tank.  You buy a handful of cheap cigars and ask for directions to Vegas.  As light-as-a-feather, you cruise down Highway 15 with the windows down and music blasting. Fogerty jams on the stereo as smoke bellows out of the car - just you and your car, both completely detached from the gravitational pull of responsibility. 

Now, on the opposite pole, there’s “grounded.”  This time, imagine being away from home for a few weeks while on some crumby business trip.  Your loving wife of ten years waits patiently for you at home.  But she’s lonely.  Your kids don’t understand your absence.  You missed your son’s little league game today – an All-stars game.  They lost by a run, season's over.  Your daughter stayed home from school with a fever.  You sit alone at a motel bar and ask yourself…What the hell was I thinking?  Why did I take a job that forces me to be so far from my loved ones?  You fidget with a napkin and order another shot.  You start to feel a little tipsy.  In fact, you feel so unbearably light that you almost slip off the bar stool.  You long to be back with your family, back on Earth.  You throw back a final shot, float into the elevator, punch the “ground level” button and pray it takes you home.

*So then, dear reader, I ask: which state of being is better - “lightness” or “grounded”? I certainly don't have the answer.  I will, however, admit that I’d like to try my hand at the latter.  But if gravity fails me, I won’t hesitate to pack up the car, fill up the tank, and hit the highway with the windows down and music blasting.  Vegas?  No.  Portland?  Maybe. 

Brown Bear Awakes

Brown Bear lumbers out from his cave. 

His eyes are groggy and his hungry tummy aches. 

The air smells of fish, flowers and honey. 

The Birds are chirping and the bugs are buzzing.

Brown Bear stretches his face towards the sun.

He inhales the fresh air into his lungs.

And smiles, knowing it had finally begun...

Winter had passed and spring had sprung.

Spring Has Sprung in Trinidad

Ugly Ducklings

Swans reflect on themselves and their day...

While the ugly ducklings romp and play.

When NOT to Pee

During a slow dance. 

During a bath.

During a test.

During a free-throw.

During a haircut.

During a speech.

During a race.

During a somersault.

During a diaper change.

During an interview.

During an exchange of vows.

Thoughts on I

Rhyming helps sum up ideas.  If you can say everything you want to say in ten sentences or less, why write a chapter? I think my problem is communication.  I worry that my rhyme’s intent never gets through.  Or at least it doesn’t resonate with enough authority.  But I’m new to the game and I’ll continue to play.  Maybe I’ll enroll in a community college creative writing course.  I’ll annoy a portable classroom of eighteen year-olds with questions, enthusiasm and silly rhymes. 

I am sick of typing the word “I.”  It's a lazy habit that makes for a poor read.  I could give myself a journalism assignment - hike the Lost Coast next weekend and report on it?  I’ve been tempted to write short autobiographical stories but I cringe at the thought of all those “I”’s.  Perhaps I’ll just create fictitious characters to channel my thoughts through.  Maybe I’ll get carried away and write a children’s story.  

 

Family Tree

The history of our family tree dates back to nineteen ninety-three. What once was small has since grown tall and branched out in all directions. But it's roots still reside by my parent's side and shades them with affection.

Tick Tock Writer's Block

Tick…

Tock…

Writer’s block.

Tick...

Tock...

Writer’s block rhymes with clock.

Tick...

Tock…

Writer’s block rhymes with clock is all I’ve got?

Moments in Mind

Writing captures moments in mind like cameras capture moments in time.

(Is it too pretentious to post just a sentence?)

Keep Up

Fly by yourself 

if no one else

keeps up with you.

Prescription Meditation

Prescription meditation is drowning the nation. Everyone’s strung out on bliss and Zen. Will our factories ever open again? Millions have been evicted, millions are poor. Hardly anyone works anymore.

Refugee camps stretch for miles and miles. No one speaks but everyone smiles. Together they sit and quietly hum, one finger resting upon each thumb.

How I miss the frenzy of impatient cars, lonely people packed into bars, chain smokers exhaling emotional scars. How I miss the days of Zoloft and Ritalin. Paxil and Oxycotin. Prozac and Vicodin.

You see folks, life's ups and downs made the world go round’ till meditation spread. So please dear reader, do as I do…

Leave Nirvana for the dead. 

The Recipe of Me

The recipe of me is rather simple you see?

One sprinkle of stupidity.

Two cups of nice.

Three ounces of ordinary.

Four scoops of rice.

Five teaspoons of smart.

Six tablespoons of mean.

Seven pounds of heart with stuffing in-between. 

Eight grams of awkward.

Nine liters of rum. 

Ten servings of silly and one bullfrog just for fun.  

Shoots and Ladders

Sometimes you smile.  Sometimes you frown.  Sometimes you're up.  Sometimes you're down. When life's a game of Chutes and Ladders, a friend to play with is all that matters.

No Matter What I Do

I climbed every mountain in Peru.

I biked through Europe and Asia too.

I crossed the Sahara while missing a shoe.

I navigated up the Nile inside a canoe.

But no matter what it is I do,

I’m still very much in love with you.  

(Hallmark perhaps?)

We've Switched Places

I like to chase cats and sleep in the sun.  My dog thinks having a job is fun.  I thought my dog had the best life ever.  My dog thought my life was better.  You should have seen our family’s faces, when we told them we've switched places. 

Thoughts on Rhyming

It turns out I like to rhyme. I mix up sentences and try to fit words together. It gets my wheel spinning like a mental game show. Finding two perfect words that match is like landing on $1,000, guessing “t”, and watching the board light up twice.

I’m uncomfortable with the word “poem.” I’m not sure what it means to me…or to a dictionary for that matter. I would never call myself a poet or refer to my writings as poems. I’ll leave poetry to introspective individuals with large vocabularies. I just want to play.

Is it too “low brow” to simply rhyme the last word in a sentence? It always seems to sound better that way. But it’s probably cleverer to slip in rhymes in the beginning or middle of sentences as well. Perhaps even toss in a sentence or two that doesn't rhyme at all. That would be wild.

Anyone can rhyme - roses are red, violets are blue, I can rhyme and so can you. The trick for me is saying something in a way that's not too preachy and not too silly. If I can eke out a semi coherent story that’s smooth and rhymes and makes me smile, I’ll post it. And I’ll try and do better the next time.

Costa Rican Bound

I have reoccurring dreams of discovery and treasure. Buried down deep is wealth beyond measure.  This treasure is hidden under a layer of sand, next to a palm tree growing in a familiar land. I can see it swaying from my front deck. The air is humid, warm, and wet. Carrillo, Costa Rica – I remember it now! I know that treasure's there, don’t ask me how.

Well folks, my bags are packed and arrangements made. I’m Costa Rican bound and gettin' paid.

Death of a Grumpy Poet

I ain't gonna smile and I ain't gonna talk.

I ain't gettin' up and I ain't gonna walk.

I ain't eatin' or drinkin' or blinkin' or thinkin'.

I ain't gonna write and I ain't gonna rhyme.

Just gonna lie in this hole till the end of time.

An Aging Chihuahua

An aging Chihuahua rests by the door...

He's waiting for mama to return from the store.

His vision is foggy and his joints are sore.  

His bladder is loose and his memory is poor. 

An aging Chihuahua rests by the door... 

He has forgotten what he's waiting for.

He shuts his eyes and begins to snore.