Apparently, there was a little glitch in the internet last night when I posted. I received quite a few messages that something was off, and that the link to my blog received one of those “404” errors. Now, I think little gremlins might have been in place, chewing up the hyperlinks and laughing madly, so if that’s the case, we should always remember that the internet (believe it or not) has not been perfected. So, to those that DID NOT receive last nights blog, I hope this comes through🙂 What follows is what I shared……
I finished all of the details needed to finish “The Teddy Bear That Saved Me.” Now, it’s simply a matter of waiting. October 3rd is the big day.
I can’t tell you how much I have enjoyed writing this new book, and how all of the enjoyment came from trying a different tone in my writing. I’ve never written a children’s book before. And I have to tell you, it’s awfully intimidating. But, I found my voice.
I found that while I was writing, I was speaking to closely to whatever young reader was scanning the page, narrating to them as though I was in the room with them, breaking the fourth wall, and pulling myself out of the page and into their little imaginations.
I had this concept that some children don’t have someone to read to them when they go to bed, so I wanted to write in that particular voice of someone who was. Yes, while reading it, you feel as though you’re being tucked into bed and told a story by someone listening, and not just telling them a story. I say things like, “And the little bear had a very big decision to make….Now, I know you want to move on to the next chapter, but it’s time for bed. You must get your rest. We’ll continue to the next chapter later. For now, hold your pillow close, pull your covers up under your chin, and sleep tight….I’ll be here waiting for you on the next page.”
I thought that was where my voice was necessary. I thought THAT was what I wanted to accomplish with this book: to have it clung to when lonely, to have those little eyes that read that book feel they were not alone. And I know there are lonely ones out there.
And there is this magical moment at the end (not spoiling it!) that I hope inspires a new generation of knitters, especially boys, and hopefully, picking up the yarn with a desire to give back something gracious and kind to the world.
I think the best thing about being an artist, or a knitter especially, is learning new things about yourself while you’re creating. You find value in some of the simplest moments. Or rather, you find in yourself in the presence of something you often hide from: yourself. The modern world seems to find something dreadful about turning off all of the machines and being left alone for a minute to learn about yourself.🙂 Maybe that will change. Maybe a few words on a page will remind that we are never alone.
If you’d like a signed, first edition, hardcover copy, click here. Kindle and paperback will be released on October the 3rd.
“Being brave is the least of your worries. It’s purpose you need to think about. I hate to be the one tell you this, but sometimes, someone’s only purpose is to love….and just loving someone can be very brave….Now hold tight, little one. The Moths are coming….Be brave.”
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We want to start our new life together sound, clean, unhinged. We don’t want for much, and it doesn’t take a lot to please us. Like I said, our honeymoon will be us with a six pack and a couple of rounds of cards. That’s all we need from each other: each other. That was the moment I knew this was the man I was going to marry: the moment I knew we neither of us liked big and bombastic….we liked simply BEING with each other. As a matter of fact, when we are together, we don’t do what others would consider “very much.” Like I said, we like to sit with each other, grapple over politics, gossip about the horrible things we see on TV, and play cards. Then, we head to bed, cats quickly pouncing in to claim a preferred space, then go to sleep with a sudden truth that can wake you right up again: ….I found him. We giggle, we pick on each other (I love that part, because I can toss some nice zingers), chide each other for each other’s alleged sloppiness, laugh until we’re beet red in the face…..the fall asleep with a smile.
…and the clouds roll by fast, screaming of the horrors they’re fleeing. Mad flashes of sun try to intrude, but the bountiful lashes of lightning impune. Us mortals cower at the weather, pray to whatever angel may listen for refuge. Then there, just as we gather in huddles to reconsider our temperance, the signalling song of a wren, floating along in the softening throng, wistfully sings that the storm that never was, is now over.
