Making commitments

Committing to a book project is daunting. Usually, projects like Writing on the Bus or A Guide to Creating Student-Staffed Writing Centers take about a year to draft, working with my editor-friends Anne and Gayle. Then, I spend about 3-6 months in the revision process with the editorial staff of a publishing house. These ballpark figures focus on the writing (i.e., note taking, drafting, author revisions, publishing house revision). The hemming and hawing of choosing a project can take from one to five years. Why? Living with a book project is kind of like getting engaged or for 21st century teenagers it's like asking someone if, in Facebook lingo, they should simultaneously post "In a relationship with..." Heck, that's big stuff.

Maine Team 1984... after a stunning loss in the mud. Note:
The only boy smiling is Mark #12--he's now an undertaker. 

Right now, I have two projects on my mind. First, I've wanted to write a book about taking the Maine State Team to England during the 1980s and 1990s. Over those two decades, 500 Maine athletes on 30 Maine Teams played soccer in and around London. And imagine, only 7 kids got arrested, no one died, and only one player went home because of homesickness. Oh, and we always won (!). I have a ton of data connected to these trips; I asked kids to write me about their experiences on the way home on the plane. I wrote follow-up trip letters to the kids' families--these were 8-10 page single spaced accounts of our days. And now I'm connected to quite a few of the guys through Facebook.

I'm afraid of starting this project for several reasons. One is that it's probably going to end up having to be a memoir. Tying together 500 kids, 30 teams, and 13 years of trips probably means the focus will have to be me. I don't like the sound of that. I suspect there's another way beyond memoir to write this book, but I'm not enough of a writer to know what that is and I don't know that I want to go and learn (I hate saying that). Second, I'm thinking this project could take 3-5 years to write. Can I make that kind of commitment of energy? That's a lot of living time--which is to day, I'll spend every day, every vacation, and every weekend writing.

The second project I've known I'll write might be called One Dog's Writer: Living a Writer's Life as a Teacher. I know from my days as a National Writing Project site director that a lot of teachers, especially English/language arts teachers, really want to write. I've done that fairly well, and so have many of my friends, so I thought I'd write an encouraging and helpful book on establishing and maintaining a writing practice.  This project is a one year deal. I know who I'd interview; I have notes; I even have a rough outline. Not that the book would be easy, but I do know that it's doable and I do know that my editor at Peter Lang would be interested.

Thing is, I'd really like to write the soccer book.

Birthday Boy!

Happy 3rd Birthday, Bailey Tuckerman Kent. 

Happy Birthday, Bailey! The BIG 3!

Yup, the little guy hit three today and wouldn't you know that our friend Jane Cicala from Slovakia, a veterinarian, remembered to send greetings and so did Simon, Bailey's brother from Denmark. Very kind. Man, he was a little guy when I first met him in June of 2010. I think what a friend of mine said holds true, "We never know how much love we have to give until we get a dog."

June 2010

June 2010

Bailey's mom Maggie. 

New book for soccer players out soon!

Click on picture to enlarge. 

Amy Edwards of Gonzaga University and I have just about completed a new notebook/journal  for soccer players. Smaller than Soccer Team Notebook, Pitch Notes Soccer Journal still has journal prompts and Match Analysis pages. Thanks once again to Gayle Sirois for her editorial expertise. We were to have finished up the book today with a conference call, but Amy fell ill and we'll get to it over the next few days.

Back at it

After several weeks of having my leg elevated and a week on antibiotics and one short but painful visit to the doctor's, I am on the mend. Talk about a depressing few weeks.... Anyway, we started with short  walks and then headed off into the mountains for four hikes in a row followed by a 40-minute run just last week. I love getting out into the woods with Bailey. He nearly exploded the first time I took him on a walk, off leash, out behind the house after our internment at home.

Guarding the yard from inside

Here's what Bailey looked like when I wasn't able to take him for our regular jaunts.

Later, we started hiking Black Mountain and visited camp for the first swim of the season. Yahoo!

First swim

Last snow

Mountain stream swim

Make yourself at home

Bailey disappeared the other evening from the first floor during a Red Sox game. I searched the first floor and then up on the second, including his bed... no Bailey.

I took a second sweep around the house and this time turned on the light in my bedroom where Bailey's bed is on the floor. Seems he's decided his LL Bean bed doesn't quite cut it any more.

That's right: I set him straight.

Being boring

On his blog Daniel Coyle posted a piece about the lives of creative types. It's a fascinating look at the rituals of the super creative. I'd never describe myself as being uber-creative, but I have a few entrepreneurial whispers that might be considered original.

Coyle says, "To be truly creative, you have to be brave enough to be boring." I couldn't agree more.  Take a look at his post; it's worth a look. If you scroll down below the post, you'll see my response. Just click on this title The Talent Code to get to his blog.  

Six-word memoirs & novels

Hemingway is thought to have written one of the first six-word novels over a bet with friends. The manuscript reads like this:

For sale: baby shoes, never worn.  

There's something really inviting about the six-word stories. Such writing forces us to think deeply about our words and to play with a variety of combinations. Composing these short-short stories gets at the notion of revision when working with young writers--with any writer, for that matter. Here are a few of my favorite six-word stories:

Kiss gone astray, hell to pay. 
We thought the gun wasn't loaded. 
One gun, two shots, three dead. 
Sheik wins bachelorette auction, "prize" absconds.
After she died, he came alive. 
My husband is invisible. No, really. 

My friend Tanya Baker of the National Writing Project, a former UMaine colleague, showcased a few websites that feature six-word stories. A fellow NWPer, Paul Oh, created one of the sites. For me, the videos featuring high school kids and their writing brought back a slew of memories. Check them out:

Clarity Through Brevity: Integrating Six-Word Memoirs  

Making as Writing/Writing as Making: Six Word Memoirs

Now try a few of your own. You never know:

Pulitzer winner credits six-word novel prompts.

Vegetable Soup

Rich's Vegetable Soup!

I'm a late bloomer. Take dogs, for example. I decided to adopt Bailey nearly three years ago. Since then, as if I'm the first dog owner on the planet, I have written, talked, and photoed him endlessly. All my dog friends have been so kind. They've smiled and "Oh really'ed?" for the past 3 years. Then there's cooking.

I can make simple fare like lasagna, spaghetti, and chicken dishes, but when it comes to real cooking, well...

I've been trying to move away from eating meat. Recently, I visited my friend Anne and her husband, Joe, and sister Betty. They served a delicious meal starting with a selection of hors d'oeurves followed by a delectable vegetable soup. I admitted to Anne that I'd like to learn how to make  soup and she followed up by emailing me the recipe.

The next Sunday, I headed off to the supermarket to buy the ingredients. The shop had rutabaga, but not turnip. Duh! Who knew they were the same! It gets worse: I'd never opened a garlic clove or used barely in any form. But, step by step I just pushed through. Honestly, I love this soup! It's hearty and filling... I had so much that I froze two big containers after three meals.

Now my soup and cooking friends have to listen to me, "the cook," talk the game I just learned. I have such good friends...

Here's the recipe Anne provided:

Click to enlarge

Monica Wood and Basic Story Structure

On Saturday at UMaine, we hosted Monica Wood, author of novels, books for writers and teachers, and a 2012 award-winning memoir, When We Were the Kennedys. A long-time friend, Monnie has been living the writer's life for many years. Novelist Ron Carlson wrote, "The writer's the one who stays in the room." Monnie has stayed in the room crafting her stories. She's paid her dues and now she's enjoying some much deserved recognition.

Monica Wood

During her writing workshop on Saturday, she spoke about Basic Story Structure, an element of sound writing that all writers need to be reminded of. Going back through a draft of story and identifying the basic elements can help any writer with story development and revision.  

Click to enlarge

Orono Buddy

Bailey has a new caretaker/buddy in Orono. Sam is the 8th grade son of Heather Pullen, one of Rich's colleagues at the University.  Bailey and Sam hung out on Saturday while Rich ran a conference. Clearly, Bailey had the best time.

Bailey & Sam

"Do I have to go home, Dad?"

The Architect

Fall 2004, Western Mountains of Maine

I learned this week that Michal Cicala, my 2004-05 Slovakian exchange student, graduated from college as an architect. Fantastic!

Michal studied for six years at his university in the Czech Republic. During summers, he worked out on the west coast of the United States managing a sales team of international students. He learned a lot from that experience, especially managing people.

Michal used his exchange in Rumford to the max. He had a slew of friends, joined sports and activities like soccer and ski racing, and left a lasting impression among many folks in Rumford.

Over the years, Michal has kept in touch via email, Facebook, and letters. I share email letters each month with his family. Michal's sister Tania did a yearlong exchange in Maine just after Michal, and now their little brother Martin is gearing up for his year abroad.

I look forward to the day that I'll visit Slovakia and meet Michal's wonderful, warm, and successful family.

Here's to Michal... Happy Graduation! Much success! I'm proud of you.

2005

2010

   

Life's simplicity

Really, life's as simple as this: you roll in poop, you get a bath.

We had our first run of 2013 at Black Mountain today. The cross-country trails are snow covered and firm perfect for running or for skiing (with Universal Klister as a kick wax).

On the highest point of the XC trail, Bailey discovered a ripe, wet poop. He rolled and rolled in the mess until I saw him and screamed. Then, he rolled some more.

I tried to clean him up with snow, but that did not work. I tried tossing a treat in a stream--he got the treat but the water didn't affect the mess. So, as always, off to the back deck with buckets of warm water and an oatmeal dog shampoo with a lemony scent. I know it looks like he's smiling in these pictures, but I'm thinking he got some soap in his eyes.

Saying goodbye, but knowing it's not...

Bar Harbor, c. 2009

My sister Barbara died last week. For 8 years she lived with ovarian cancer, undergoing a dozen clincial trials and more than several surgeries. When her tumors began to grow over the past 6 months, she and her husband Ken faced the decision of her undergoing tumor debulking surgery.

After the surgery, in her chemo-weakened state, Barbara's kidneys began failing. She endured dialysis, transfusions, and other procedures, but her body could not recover. We moved her into hospice on a Sunday, and she died peacefully on a Tuesday afternoon with her husband and me by her side.

Throughout the month and one day that followed her surgery, her kids, my brother Rob, Ken, and I held vigil in the hospital,  giving her foot massages and applying hot or cold packs to her forehead. Rob called it the "spa treatment." Each day during my stay, I wrote and sent email updates to the family about her condition and about her day like who visited, who sent notes, what she said, when she smiled. During the final few days I read notes from family, placed phone calls, and talked to her about the many people in her life that loved her. Neighbors, girlfriends, fellow cancer patients, her chemo nurses, and her doctors came to her bedside to say goodbye.

On Wednesday in Winchester--just outside of Boston--the family gathered with friends to celebrate Barbara's life and professional career. Her obituary from the Boston Globe is here. After the memorial and reception, we met at Tanya and Michael's home in Winchester. Small and large groups stood sharing stories about Aunt Barbie. Up until that gathering, I'd been pretty sad about losing my sister, one of the people in my life. But when I looked around the house at her 3 kids, 7 grandkids, her brothers, nieces, nephews, and friends, I had an overwhelming sense that she's still here in all of us.

As a family, we grew closer over these past few weeks, and really, over the past 8 years. We'll miss her--that smile, her fist pump and wink, her directives (after all, she did grow up with 4 brothers in a mill town), and her many gifts. We all agree that we feel blessed to have had her in our lives.

  

Winter Blues...

It happens every winter. Dark days mount up; unwanted snow keeps invading the radar screen; long, slushy drives back from Orono raise my angst; and the quirky characters on reruns of The West Wing seem like my closest friends. Last night during Season 5, Episode 4, I actually gave advice to Josh, the nimrod. (Who am I making fun of? The other day I took out my car key and pressed "Unlock" as I stood squarely in front of my office door at the university. I am a professor, after all.)

It is what it is.

But like a lot of people, if I get out and hike or run, my dampened spirits begin to melt away with the rising temperatures. That was the case today. I hiked up through the neighborhood, onto a logging road near the reservoir, and in 17 minutes hit the snow mobile trails. From there,  I run, jog, or slog along while Bailey investigates Every.Single.Smell. And 66 minutes later, I'm home--tired but rested and knowing Spring is nearly here.

Here are some pictures from the last few days.

Bailey on the back deck during snow flurries. 

One of the Three Sisters taken from my second floor. 

Again, one of the Three Sisters. 

Mr. Fournier's home with the Three Sisters in the background. 

Books, snow... books and snow. 

Winter/Summer

More snow heading our way for Wednesday, Thursday, and perhaps Friday. The XC skiing will be perfecto this weekend!

Another weekend storm...

After the run

There's a cardinal in a backyard bush. The winter's ice is inching its way off the roof. Out on the back deck, the sun has me hatless and sipping water while rocking in my chair. Today, it's 40 degrees in western Maine and there's a sprig of spring in the air. The weather calls for a storm over the weekend. Six to 10 inches of snow. But for now, after our run, it's the rocking chair and this sunshine that matter.

Was that a blizzard?

Nah, not so much. But the feathery western powder made for great XC skiing today and easy shoveling (wicked easy since the neighborhood teenager, Miles, snuck over and shoveled my front walk while we were out skiing!). And then, of course, there's the comfort food... lasagna, black raspberry yogurt ice cream... did someone say wine? No, not in the middle of a natural disaster! Unh-unh... no wine at such a time.

Apres ski rest...

Comfort food for the storm. 

New Book!

Click on card above to enlarge. 

To order a copy, just click on this cover:

Click on cover for ordering information. 

The Multigenre Paper

In our online class, Writing and the Teaching of Writing, we're developing a Multigenre Project, an activity created by Tom Romano (click on Tom's name to hear more about the MG Project). Ours will be an autobiographical Mulitgenre. For example, in 2009, Meg Hall wrote a MG on her passion for baking bread. She put her final product on a blog that you can find here.

In Tom Romano's own class, he asked his college students to create a Multigenre paper over a book. Here's an example written on the stunning novel Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson. More examples and ideas can be found on our Class Resource Website on Writing, scroll down 3/4 of the page and look on the left. You can also Google Multigenre to see more examples.

Some writers begin this project with a central idea (e.g., "My Children") and let the various genre surface as they write. Another approach is to make an outline and list the genre with a brief explanation. That's what I've done below as I've outlined a Multigenre about my family and our connection to ski racing. Click on the picture to enlarge!

Click on the picture to enlarge. 

 

Good classrooms

My UMaine office. 

In 1991, at Middlebury College's Bread Loaf School of English, my teacher the late James Britton spoke these words during class one summer day. The next fall because of Mr. Britton, Dixie Goswami, my grad school classmates, my writing, my reading, and these 8 words, I revised my high school English classroom and, in a real way, myself.

Zen & the Art of Snowbanks

Bailey's Swiss heritage as a farm dog leads him to look out over the pastures and sound the alarm if a stranger or predator intrudes and to provide companionship to his people. I love watching this Zen-like stance when he's in the yard. This past week we've had vicious temperatures with wind chills reaching –25 to –35 degrees F.  But whenever Bailey went out, he clicked into the I'm-protecting-the-back-forty stance. Good dog.

Stupid is as stupid does Part II

I'm a moron.

On the coldest night of the year, with the wind bending my four-story Blue Spruce trees, I left the door from my kitchen to the unheated mudroom ajar (insert "open").

Throughout the night, the wind-chilled -25 degrees refrigerated the mudroom. I can picture the arctic air seeping into the kitchen and weaving down the hallway to the only thermostat on the first floor. I could hear the furnace blasting away at my ignorance. Could I be any more careless? Oh yes.

I brought Bailey into the mudroom and let him out into the backyard. When I went to head back into the kitchen, I couldn't open the door. The night before, as always, I'd locked that door and somehow the locking mechanism held fast (insert "I pushed the locking button when I went out").

I'm no dummy. I sprung into action. I turned on the gas stove in the room to keep me from freezing to death in the next 2 minutes (uh?) and weighed my options.  I thought about having to run to my neighbors for help. I pictured myself skipping across the street to the Sullivan's house in my pointy-toed slippers from Kazakhstan, a gift from Jan's parents.

Flashback. 1957.

I'm 4 years old. It's winter--or at least in this version of the story it is. Somehow, I'm alone on the first floor of our house on Lincoln Avenue in Rumford. I probably came down to watch Saturday morning cartoons. I decide it would be a good idea to head out onto the porch. I close the door, look up and down the quiet street, and head back in ... again, the door is locked. I pound on the door, but everyone's sleeping on the two floors above.

Our home on Lincoln Avenue in 1957 is a duplex. Our neighbors, the Mayer's, are awake and hear me. I'm rescued. In my mind today, they treat me to a nice breakfast of pancakes with maple syrup and a big tumbler of OJ....    

My blue slippers...

My 2013 plans do not include showing off my slippers on Prospect Avenue. I could climb over the 60 bags of pellets in the front hallway and dig through the bags leaning against the kitchen door to find the door knob, and slip open that door, tearing away all of the insulation I have stuck in and around the door frame. Or! I could see if there was anyway I'd left the second-floor door unlocked from the sports room to house.... I had. I'm in.

Another lesson learned.