the writing life

We are still muddling through a mala racha, as the people I met in Spain so many years ago would say. I have a little mantra I've been silently repeating to myself: this too shall pass, this too shall pass. Either that, or I suggest out loud - through clenched teeth, while steams steadily escapes from my ears - that my daughter remain silent for 3 minutes, starting right now, I will time you, no not another word, no words at all, just quiet, Frances did you forget already? It's only been 30 seconds, please, just try this for me, 3 minutes of SILENCE.

But as many of you know, silence is near impossible for a girl who has had words continually rushing through her body, mind, and soul since babyhood, a girl whose universe is all about language. So ordering silence is hardly effective; it just ramps up the anxiety (but a mama can dream).



Yesterday she greeted me with a rare glowing grin at pick up time, holding out in front of her a green composition notebook that she had filled at school, since November, with books - the first two in a series - called Kirsten and the Magic Kiss and Kirsten: The Stowaway.

These books are strongly influenced by, among other writers, the prolific Mary Pope Osbourne but do manage to communicate Frances's unique imagination and perspective. They are suspenseful and surprising. And they helped me understand why Frances was so particularly interested in the character of Jane in The Penderwicks, a nine-year-old aspiring novelist who writes adventure stories. They also reminded me of how special and dear and extraordinary she is. My goodness. So I didn't feel angry at her for at least a couple of hours yesterday afternoon.

Selections from the Kirsten books (I can't resist):
-with original spelling and punctuation-

From Chapter 2, The Damp Forest:
An owl tried to catch a mouse. "No! said Kirsten. She picked it up. "Do you know the way to the forest"? The mouse nodded. He droped his jaw open. A magic string came out. Into the darkness they went.

From Chapter 8, Amanda:
Kirsten looked at the wall. There was a small, wood frame. Inside it was a picture of a boy with wings. He had small pointed black shoes. On his wrist was a charm braclet. To Kirsten, he was an elf. Amanda picked it up. "He is my cousin" she said. "How are you a human and he's an elf"? asked Kirsten. Amanda just smiled. Her smile was kind. She had no braces, like other teenagers who Kirsten knew had. But her teeth were very shiny and beautiful. 

From Book 2, Chapter 4, Run For Your Friend
In 10 seconds, Kirstens tummy hurt. But with her ticket in hand, she ran faster. She soon realized her body had a mind of its own. She ran so fast she was a blur. She even ran in the middle of the street. Kirsten ran for her best friend.