A Toast of Sorts

'Ello lovely readers,

I have been MIA recently. My apologies. Days keep flying, and before I know it, another week slips by. No comments on other blogs, no post on mine. The truth is, I'm going to take a breather from this blogging thing. Mentally, I have already started this breather--but it feels good to type that out. More official.

This blog experience has been encouraging, challenging, eye opening, freeing, and all sorts of other ings. You all are so incredible. I have turned to your blogs when I needed someone to say "keep going." I have read your success stories--little reminders that, yes, people still get published. And yes, it's usually a windy journey.

I will possibly contribute to another blog one day soon. If so, I'll put a link to that blog here, before officially closing this one out. Thank you for being part of this blog and my journey so far on this writing road. You rock. I toast you (with eggnog) blog reader, and wish you a very merry Christmas. May your New Year bring all sort of happiness! You have brought plenty to me.

No Safari, Lots of Stories

I did not go on a safari in Africa. But I did write! Words just poured out of me there. The smell of campfires, the red dirt, the little hands reaching up to clutch yours... so much warmth. Anyone would feel like an artist surrounded by such beauty.

I tend to romanticize things. I know this. But I am not romanticizing the beauty of Malawi. Yes, many of the children I interviewed had faced harsh realities: hunger, abandonment, death. Yet they cling to, and reveal, so much beauty, peace, hope, all that. This astounds me.

Writing their stories enlivened me. I was a little nervous at first--switching hats from fiction writer to journalist. But it didn't matter. A story is a story, and each child's demanded to be told. Have you ever felt like a part of something way bigger than yourself, your writing? Um, yeah, I felt that pretty much all the time.

Someone asked me today if it all felt like a dream. Not yet. I still catch wisps of remembered sounds and sights that serve as a little pinch. No, you weren't dreaming, Sam. Yes, the children you interviewed were flesh and blood--stories made real.

Above is a picture of one such story: the Chokadala triplets. You can read about them here: COTN. If you get a chance, cruise around COTN's website. As someone who has been there, I can say that child sponsors really are changing lives. The kids have pictures of their sponsors taped above their beds, treasure their letters, pray for them... okay, sales pitch closed.

Missed you, lovely readers! Happy Thanksgiving, and I hope it's all kinds of fantastic!

So Long States!

I have never left the country. (The farthest from home I've flown is New York, which sort of did feel like a foreign land.) But that's about to change, my friends. On Sunday, I am waking up when it's still basically night, chugging a chai latte, and journeying to Malawi, Africa... with writers!

In Malawi, our band of writers will work with Children of the Nations (here!), a movement of people who care for orphaned and destitute children, empowering them to create positive and lasting change in their nations. Empowerment! I love that.

Our part in this movement is to tell the stories of children whose lives are changing through COTN, and to encourage COTN staff and older teens who are interested in writing. This second part is especially thrilling for me. My friend Heather and I went to Starbucks the other day to discuss the format of our creative writing workshop. As we chatted about the elements of story (i.e. characters, plot, setting, theme, etc.), I got this tingle of anticipation. Who will be listening? What stories are bubbling inside them, ready to spill onto the page? Eeee!!!

In Africa, I won't be able to post on this blog. BUT, I will be posting on this one (here!). I'll miss you guys and plan to post again the week of November 15th. I'm leaving you with a pic of a pic of Tenneh Kanu, a girl Jon and I sponsor through COTN. Yes, that pencil is staged.

A Poemside Chat: Take Two

I haven't started a new story yet. It's not there, and I don't want to force it. So... poetry! That's right, my friends. When the story is still wisps and smoke and not quite graspable, I say, "'Ello inner poet, bring your quill and enjoy some Moosetracks ice cream with me." Here is the inner poet's latest creation:

Phoenix

By Samantha Bennett

Beauty,

Tucked in the ashes,

Hidden among the smolders,

Glowing and remembering,

So bright, so free.

Memories,

Harden and form,

With dashes of light,

Swelling from the dust,

Unfurling, like petals from a bulb,

A phoenix.

Why I Quit

I quit reading a book tonight. Gulp. I feel a TAD guilty doing this. Now that I'm pursuing this writing thing, I have a better idea of how much work goes into creating a novel-length story. So even though this writer will never know I abandoned their story, well, I still send a silent sorry their way.

I've talked to people who rarely, if ever, quit stories like I do. They hunker down and read until that last period. No matter what. But then there are readers like me, who you must woo to keep engrossed in your story. Which got me thinking... What keeps persnickety (read: loveable) readers like myself invested from start to finish?

Here are my big "must haves" in a story:

1) Sympathetic characters. If I don't care about the characters... Oooh, I wonder if we have any ice cream.

2) A well-paced plot. If I haven't encountered any action or big events in the last few chapters... Hmmm, maybe I could call so-and-so.

3) Some substance. If the story is all frosting and no cupcake... So, I wonder if the library is still open.

What about you guys? Are you committed readers or do you require wooing like myself?

A Forever Type of Read

Sign of an awesome book: you rush through the door post-run and you're still sweaty, thirsty, and wheezing as you pick up the book to start a new chapter. This was my yesterday. The book was The Truth About Forever by Sarah Dessen (here!).

You know how certain stories just feel so human? This was one such story. It read like life--heartbreaking, unpredictable, hilarious, all that. And there is a cute boy in it. Always a plus.

So many times during this read I related to Macy. She struggles with perfectionism and, um, *raises hand*, so do I. Throughout this book, Macy discovers that life is messy, and that messy can be freeing. That's what I'm learning too.

Which makes me wonder... Are certain books more powerful for us based on our lives at the time? I think so. I think we carry all our life stuff and dump it onto the pages of a story. But that's what I love about reading. It's interactive. It's a give-and-take, push-and-pull experience. Authors like Sarah Dessen get that, and they let you fill in lots of blanks as you read.

I try to keep that in mind as I'm writing. But it's so tempting to explain everything to my readers, to make sure they're getting it. What do you think? As readers and writers, how much of you goes into a story?

Fresh Snow

As a kid, I loved waking up after a night snowfall. The yard was a blank page. Untouched. Sparkly. Fresh. I would stand at the window and breath in the glittering canvas of opportunities. Snow men? Angels? Tracks and tunnels? I could create whatever... and then huddle inside with some hot cocoa.

I still love blank pages. There is something so relieving, so invigorating about a slate wiped clean. A fresh start.

That's where I am in writing. Brainstorming sequels, plotting new story ideas, meeting new characters, and admiring a white page without a single word on it. Eeeeehhhhhwsha! *an internal noise made to signal extreme excitement* I feel lighter. Ready. So, 'ello New Story. Welcome to my world. I'll make you some hot cocoa, and then we can chat while I plot my snow angels, tracks, and tunnels. That's what a blank page is for, right?