Highlights from Literary Lights

(Kiki and me. Picture by Roger Farrington.)

Been pondering the speeches given by the Literary Lights at the Boston Public Library on Sunday. Now that we’re over the cold (my son was home sick for the last three days) I finally have time to blog about them. I don’t recall everything that was said but some things stood out.

First up was Jerry Spinelli who talked about readers being co-creators of books along with the author. An author can write it, a publisher can print it, but unless a book is read it is not truly a book. He thanked all the young people in the room for being co-creators of stories through reading.

His point was immediately reinforced by the student who introduced the next author, Karen Hesse. This young girl was so passionate about Karen’s books that it brought tears to my eyes. Karen hugged her and presented her with a journal. Write in it every day, she said. Watch the kaleidoscope of life swirl around you and put down every detail here. When this journal is finished, she said, start another.

The next author was Grace Lin (read her full speech HERE.) Her advice to young writers is good for … uh, older writers too! She described how certain she was that the first story she wrote was the best story ever. How she sent it to several publishers and got rejected. And how she put it away and (sounds simple, but is, in fact, hard to do!) wrote another. And another, and another, until she was published. When she went back to look at the first story, she realized that it wasn’t the best story ever after all. But because she never stopped writing she got better and better. Great advice for writers young and old!

The last speaker was Neil Gaiman who talked about the importance of daydreaming! Daydreaming, making stuff up (not just good excuses for not doing homework), imagining things, these are all good things, he insisted. Absolutely vital for the human race, or words to that effect. Ha! It’s good to have someone (other than John Lennon) stand up for dreamers!

There you have it--the words of the masters. Definitely inspired me to keep writing!

Tea at the Library

Enjoyed a lovely mother daughter outing today. Kiki and I drove into town to attend the Literary Lights for Kids event at the Boston Public Library. Cookies, lemonade, and meeting your favorite author (Grace Lin, in Kiki's case) ... it doesn't get better than that!

Listening to Tagore

Been mostly on the Mom track this week. Finally got over to the middle school library and signed up to help out once a week. Glad I did. I love the bright new building, the collection (they have a whole section for ARCs), and the knowledgeable librarian. Good week to be shelving books anyway ...

Also been listening to Rabindra Sangeet. This version of Ekla Chalo Re (Walk Alone) is sung by Kishore Kumar, an old family favorite. Can't really translate it without sounding melodramatic--it's best in Bangla. And no giggles or rolling eyes from the too-cool-to-listen-to-Tagore gallery, please. Sometimes only Tagore will suffice!

Déjà vu

Alfie at Rest, originally uploaded by bexifeena.

I’ve been there before.

That’s the feeling I get when Yogi (my dog) and I pass this one spot on our morning walk. Most of our regular route through the neighborhood is classic American suburbia, but when we reach the bottom a certain street I’m immediately transported to Australia, circa 1991.

I remember walking back from a hair salon in Ivanhoe. The neat front yards, so different from my native Delhi, showed off pretty flower beds and the occasional well fed cat. The cold air on the nape of my neck felt weird because I’d just had ten inches of hair lopped off. The stylist had taken in the shock on my face as I looked at myself in the mirror and wondered if I was OK. No, I was not. The short sassy style was cute, but it wasn't me. Maybe shock makes for strong memories.

I’ve analyzed exactly what about that street triggers the déjà vu. Most houses here, if they have a fenced yard at all, have one that starts at the house and goes back to encircle the backyard. But the house at the bottom of that street has a fenced FRONT yard. It has flower beds running along the fence. An old couple live there and say cheery hellos in an accent (British? Aussie?) I can’t quite place. That’s probably it. And what a mistake that hair style was, I remember with a shudder. Thank goodness it grew out fast.

Confession: I’ve had another shock this past week. My agent and I parted company. I didn’t see it coming at all, but apparently, it isn’t that unusual. My friends from the Blueboards, the Enchanted Inkpot, and my local writing group have all been awesome, and it's thanks to them that I'm dealing with it so well, considering. It’s a business, I’m a professional, and I’ll move on from this and start over. It wasn’t that long ago that I didn’t have an agent.

Today, I walked past that Aussie house on the New England Street, dog in tow, face to the sun, long messy hair made messier by the leaf tossing wind, and felt cautiously optimistic. It’ll take time, I know, but I’ve been there before.

Gypsy lore

Did you know the Roma people came to Europe from India? I didn’t. Not until a conversation in the vet’s office a few years ago. I was there with my two cats for their annual checkup--Sona yowling pitifully and Rakhan catatonic with terror, as per usual. A petite woman with dark curly hair and … a small dog, I think, started chatting with me. Are you from India, she asked, and on hearing I was, she beamed happily and said her ancestors were too.

Oh? Said I. Where from in India? She didn’t know. Turned out her grandmother was Roma. Her name had been Chandra, and the woman's daughter was named Chandra for her.

My husband’s name is Chandra too, I told her. It’s usually a man’s name in India. The minute I said this I wished I had kept my big mouth shut. Her face fell. Sensing her disappointment I tried to patch up the damage. Some girls are called Chandra too, I said lamely. Or Chandrika, or Chandrakanta, or …

Don’t you have moments you want to rewind and do over in life? This was one of them.

Anyway.

Recently that conversation came back to me and I dug around a bit on the subject. Seems she was right, the gypsies of Europe ARE of South Asian descent. They left in waves from the 7th century onwards. No one knows why. Sounds like they've had a rough time of it in Europe, and still are, even today.

Fascinating.

So, this whole subject is kind of steaming on the back-burner of my imagination right now. I have some major revisions to finish, and a synopsis to write, but I’m going to keep collecting material about the Roma and come back to it when I get time.

I think there’s a story there … and if I write one, I’m putting a girl called Chandra in it to make up for my insensitivity that day in the vet’s office.

Hardy Mums

These signs always make me smile. Mums is short for chrysanthemums here, but to me, raised as I was where mums = moms, the term conjures up visions of redoubtable women. And right now those women are just done dealing with the extra needs of kids out of school all summer. Perfect, isn’t it? Them coming to market just when hardy mums of the human kind need to spiff up that much neglected garden?
Had a great time this morning transferring mums into window boxes where I can see them from my writing desk. Now that I’ve washed up and settled down at my laptop, I raise a steaming cup of earl grey to them. Here’s to hardy mums. It’s our time to bloom!

Ready or not, it's BACK TO SCHOOL

Come down from there ...stop petting the dog ...
AND OFF YOU GO!!!!