On Wednesday, Snowflake Bentley, the chiru, and Grandmother Bryant, Bizzy Bones, that hiking, banjo-strumming Granny, and I went to Arthur School in Cedar Rapids for the day. And we all had a great time.
The students–about 360 in all–were lively and enthusiastic about books and stories. They keep journals and write their own stories. They had read and thought about my stories. They wondered how Snowflake Bentley could have died of pneumonia, if I ever did see Owen go wiggily, jiggily, and all-around giggily for blue-grass music (yes I did), how many books I had written, did I ever get discouraged (oh, indeed).
And I wanted to be sure they, and all the young writers I ever meet, know that writers have to work at it. Just because we are writers doesn’t mean we write easily. It just means we can stay with it. And I wanted them to know that they can write about their own families, their own fun, their own yearnings.
At the end of the day, some came to the library so we could continue our conversation.
Thanks, Julie Nelson-Hollins, school Media Specialist, and Angelia Hoyer, Principal, for inviting me. I hope our paths will cross again.
