Recommending a New Novel for America 250

Today I continue our series on kidlit books related to United States history by celebrating the release of a friend's new Revolutionary War-era novel. And, in honor of Poetry Friday, I also share a famous poem set during the American Revolution. Can you guess the poem? 

As Esther mentioned in her post kicking off this series, we TeachingAuthors are commemorating our nation's 250th birthday by discussing books we love that highlight U.S. history. Unlike Esther, I don't recall reading history-based fiction or nonfiction at a young age. I think I was in high school when I first read such books as Louisa May Alcott's Little Women and Mark Twain's The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. Interestingly, these novels would not have been considered historical fiction when they were published--they described contemporary events and situations. But for me, reading them one hundred years or so after their publication, I felt like I'd time-traveled to the past. And I loved the experience.     

Earlier this week, I learned that we TeachingAuthors aren't the only ones reflecting on books tied to American History. The Authors Guild has compiled a list of Essential Reading for America 250, with many of the books on the list recommended by well known authors. Looking over the titles, which are arranged by historical era, I found I've read only about ten so far. Those include Little Women, nominated by Jane Smiley, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, nominated by Scott Turow, and Charlotte’s Web nominated, by Adriana Trigiani. I've added many of the other titles to my To-Be-Read (TBR) list.   

See the list on the Authors Guild site here.

Today, I'd like to recommend a new young-adult novel I hope you'll want to add to YOUR TBR list--one inspired by real people and events: Sculptor and Spy: ​Romance and Rebellion in the Time of the American Revolution, written by my friend Julie Phend. Sculptor and Spy is​ based on the lives of famed waxwork artist Patience Wright, her daughter Betsy, and patriot Ebenezer Platt, who was a member of the Sons of Liberty. 

Full disclosure: I've been in a critique group with Julie for over six years, so I have had the privilege of watching her hone this story into a finely crafted novel rich in historical detail. I had never heard of Patience Wright and knew nothing of the art of wax sculpting before reading this book. I love learning about history through fiction, and Sculptor and Spy is an engaging read that taught me much about the American Revolution. There's plenty of intrigue to keep readers turning the pages, and a touch of romance, too. Here's the summary from Julie's website.

1773. As revolution ignites the American colonies, seventeen-year-old Betsy Wright is swept into a world far larger—and more dangerous—than she ever imagined. After a devastating fire destroys her family’s waxwork studio, she meets Eb Platt, one of New York’s Liberty Boys, and they dream of a future free from the tyrannies of the British Crown.

When Betsy is summoned to London to help her mother create wax figures of the King and Queen, she seizes the chance to spy for the Sons of Liberty, sending secret messages in her letters to Eb. Her search for intelligence leads her from teeming streets and rough docks to the royal court, where she encounters the King’s powerful prime minister, Lord North, who intends to crush the Colonies—and anyone who stands in his way.
​
Hoping to learn more, Betsy becomes close to Lord North’s assistant, the charming and handsome Samuel Wells, whose attentions may conceal motives of his own. As accusations mount and loyalties blur, Betsy must figure out who can be trusted—before those she loves are accused of the ultimate crime: treason. 

I hope you'll check out Sculptor and Spy and encourage your local library to buy a copy, too. The book released just last week on, July 15. Unfortunately, due to an unexpected glitch, only the ebook is currently available on Bookshop.org, but the paperback should also be there soon. Meanwhile, both versions are available on Amazon.           

Here I am with Julie Phend at an Anderson's Bookshop event last fall.

I asked Julie if she knew of a related poem I could include in today's post for Poetry Friday. She suggested "The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, in part, because Paul Revere's ride is mentioned in Sculptor and Spy. Like the book's character, Ebenezer Platt, Revere was a member of the Sons of Liberty. 

I remember "The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere" from my own school days and always admired it. Modern critics tend to focus on the poem's historical inaccuracies. But I learned recently that some say those were intentional. Longfellow wrote "The Midnight Ride" (also known as "Paul Revere's Ride") as the nation stood on the brink of the Civil War. His goal was not necessarily to portray the true events but rather to stir up patriotism. Did you guess this would be the poem I'd share today? Here are the opening stanzas:

     Paul Revere's Ride
     by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

     Listen, my children, and you shall hear
     Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
     On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-Five:
     Hardly a man is now alive
     Who remembers that famous day and year.

     He said to his friend, “If the British march
     By land or sea from the town to-night,
     Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry-arch
     Of the North-Church-tower, as a signal-light,—
     One if by land, and two if by sea;
     And I on the opposite shore will be,
     Ready to ride and spread the alarm
     Through every Middlesex village and farm,
     For the country-folk to be up and to arm.”   

You can read the entire poem at poets.org. And don't forget to check out this week's Poetry Friday roundup at fiction, instead of lies by Tanita S. Davis. 

Happy writing!

Carmela 

 

Those Red-White-and-Blue Oldies-but-Goodies!

In honor of our nation's 250th Birthday, 

my fellow TeachingAuthors and I have chosen

to celebrate in our upcoming posts children's

books that celebrate the American Revolution

and our country's history.

I proudly kick-off the series with Red-White-and

Blue Oldies-but-Goodies that remind me of...

me! - so that I can recommend them to you!

(Apologies to Little Caesar and the Romans.)

First, there's Me, as in, Me the Child who

treasured her "Orange True Books."

My bedroom bookshelf held:

Betsy Ross: Girl of Old Philadelphia;

Ben Franklin: Printer's Boy;

Martha Washington: Girl of Old Virginia.

FYI: I'm a Philly Girl, a product of the

Philadelphia Schools until I was 10.

Stories about the childhoods of colonials were

right up my alley, so to speak, as in Elfreth's

Alley which I visited with my Overbrook

Elementary School classmates every year,

before or after visiting Ben Franklin's grave

at 5th and Arch Streets and Betsy Ross' 

house at 2nd and Arch.

Bobbs-Merrill began publishing the 

Childhood of Famous Americans series

with its fictionalized narrative storylines in

1932, releasing 220 titles until 1958.

You can see the titles here.

The goal of the series? "To make the child of

today the friend and playmate of great

Americans of the past."

In 1950 Random House began offering a 

similar, though fact-driven, children's

history series: Landmark Books.

You can see the titles here.

But I remained True Blue to my Orange

True Books.

Next, there's the Me who earned a B.S. in

Elementary Education from the University

of Pennsylvania.

It was in my Children's Literature class that

I first met Newbery and Caldecott medalist

Robert Lawson and his revered (forgive the

pun) titles, including Mr. Revere and I:

Being an Account of Certain Episodes in

the Career of Paul Revere, Esq. as

Revealed by his Horse (Little Brown, 1953)

and Ben and Me (Little Brown, 1939).

Both books are considered timeless. Indeed,

both have been re-released with new

covers several times since the initial

publishing. Ben and Me became a movie.

My professor, Dr. Huus, held the bar high

for children's books.

I introduced Ben and Paul to the delight of

my fifth graders at Bryn Mawr Elementary

School while Student Teaching.

You can read reviews of Robert Lawson's

books here.

Finally, there's Me, the long-time Fifth

Grade Teacher at Chicago's Morgan Park

Academy, then Kenilworth's Joseph Sears

School, who took joy in amplifying the

Scott-Foresman Social Studies text 

In the Americas to teach the American

Revolution via Esther Forbes' 1944

Newbery Medal Winner Johnny Tremain.

The novel follows 14-year-old Boston

silversmith apprentice Johnny from the

start of the Revolution onward as he 

comes to make sense of the war.

Forbes used official records, diary entries,

letters of actual apprentices so that 

Readers  - my fifth graders - lived the

experience in Johnny's shoes, mind and

heart.

Not all historical critics agreed on Forbes'

presentation of the war.

My students agreed, though, how Johnny

helped them be there, living our history.

I remain connected to many of my former

students, now grandparents (!), and all

can recite the words that drove the story:

"Pride goeth before a fall."

Were I teaching the Revolution today to

5th graders, they'd be reading Johnny

Tremain.

With apologies again to Caesar and the

Romeros, what fun walking down Memory

Lane to write about the above BOOKS of 

my past.

May one of them help you remember a 

Red-White-and-Blue Oldie-but-Goodie,

with hopes you'll share the title and/or

memory in our comments.

Happy Birthday, America!

Esther Hershenhorn

P.S.

Thanks to Jan at BookSeedStudios for

hosting today's Poetry Friday.

2 Poems About Rewriting

Hello, Hello, Poetry Peeps!

Thank you, Buffy, for hosting Poetry Frday this week! (The link to Poetry Friday is at the end)

Our topic this time 'round is REWRITING, RECYCLING.

I've been crushed for time these last few weeks, navigating between getting out the vote for the California primary, a trip to see my dearest relative in Northern California (I live in Southern CA) who is going through a very difficult time, a trip to see our wonderful daugher-in-law and son (aka our kiddos) in Albuquerque, and taking off in a few days on another trip with the aforementioned kiddos!  

I'm excited...and, okay, exhausted. (Aren't we all?!?)

So, instead explaining how I rewrite, here are two poem about rewriting:

A WRITER ON HALLOWEEN by April Halprin Wayland

I push open

the heavy door.

I take out the cleaver, the machete,

the switchblade, the scalpel, the penknife,

the X-acto knife.

 

I plunge my arm into the oily black pile of drafts

and haul one out.

And though it screams a thousand deaths,

I stab it over and over and over with the cleaver,

hacking it in two.

 

Then I amputate.

I sever. I cut.

I carve.  I slice.

Finally,

I mince words.

 

I take a breath and step back to admire my bloody work.

Then…I drop it back into the oily depths,

pack away the knives,

wipe the black spots off my desk

and leave.

 

I close the heavy door.

I will come back.

Tomorrow.

To do it all

again.

©2026 April Halprin Wayland all rights reserved

The next poem is based on one session of my 10-week picture book class. That day is all about rewriting. It's my least favorite class to teach, because basically I'm showing my students that it's not always a walk in the park. As most of you know, it can be a long slog to get a book published (New Year at the Pier took nine years from first draft to publication). 

One of my favorite exercises in this class, to lighten things up (after they are stunned by how long it takes, how every detail matters, and how hard it can be), is to hand each student a can of Play Doh and give them seven minutes to make a character—human, animal or something else. 

When time's up, each student shows the class what they made. This part is fun. 

Then, every student moves one chair to the right, sitting in front of someone else's creation. Their assignment is to make one major change to the character.  I give them six minutes to do this. 

When they are back in their seats, I say:"Congratulations--you've just been edited!" 

Then each student shows us what their "editor" did, and shares how they felt when their beloved creation was changed. 

It's a fun way to think about this process.

CHANGE by April Halprin Wayland

I pinch a pink pig,

gash a green grape,

coil a coral curl,

roll a red rope,

bend a blue bow,

swerve a cyan swan,

then share what I make!

 

But...

hey, don't change that!

No pig wears a hat!

No swan puts rouge on!

Oh, wait—that's a squid.

I like

what you did.

©2026 April Halprin Wayland all rights reserved

Here are three questions for you:

>Do you love or hate to rewrite? 

>How does your critique group help you make a manuscript or poem better? 

>How many times did you revise this week's blog post?

I can't wait to read your answers.

Thanks again, Buffy, for hosting!

posted with love and a little help from Sadie, our hilarious pup:

catching some zzzs with her favorite suffies, Peacock and Skull

"C'mon," she says, on our hike

"Stop posting so we can play!"

#toobusy #rewriting #poemaboutrewriting

Revising a Book is Like Renovating a House --Sort of

   Before I tell you why renovating is like revising, I'll tell you the one obvious way in which they are not alike. In renovating a house, I am revising someone else's work. (Obviously, I didn't build the house originally.) 

    OK, on to the analogy.

    Short backstory. We have lived in Atlanta since June 200, longer than my husband or I have lived anywhere. He retired two years ago and wanted to move. He specifically wanted to move back to his hometown, a place he hasn't lived since 1983.  He had his reasons for wanting to move. I had mine for staying put. We came to an agreement that we would move only if we fell in love with a house. I thought the likelihood for that happening were slim to none. 

I was wrong. We found a house. This house. Built in 1925 and located in a lovely Historical District.

End of backstory.

 Sometimes I fall in love with a story idea and just start writing, without worrying about where it will end up. With this house, we had the usual house inspection before buying.  No foundation cracks and no termites, the two things southern homeowners fret about. The house had good "bones" but there were a few things we wanted to change. 

We had already figured out that what we originally thought was a garage was actually a workshop.  Large for a workshop but in no way big enough for a car, let alone two. 

That's OK, we thought. It's a big yard. We'll just tear down the workshop and build a garage. We learned that any changes to the exterior and yard had to be approved by the Neighborhood Historical Commission. Running these plans by a committee is not unlike working with an agent who points out why your idea is or is not acceptable, in terms of sales. (I do not have an agent but have a lot of friends who do. I've heard their stories.)

Then my husband, the cook of the household, decided the kitchen needed help. It was not an original to o the house, but added by some previous owner. It had some odd features such as a corner fireplace and a mirrored wall.

Kitchen selfie in the mirrored wall. Fireplace to right.

Most importantly for said husband, it had terrible flow and was too small. And while we were at it, why not add a covered back porch? Plans drawn and revised to the specifications of the Historical Commission.

"Revising" the kitchen and adding a porch meant to demolishing the whole back of the house. We discovered that the kitchen had been added before the days of building permits.

This is what the "framing" looked like. I thought that our contractors had randomly nailed up some boards to keep the frame from caving in. No.  That was the frame.  (This was the point where I seriously questioned the guy who inspected the house before sale)

I write out of sequence. Whatever scene is in my brain at the moment, that's what I write. If I come to a spot where I don't know what comes next, I type a couple of lines of giant Xs in red. I will return to this later on. Discovering what was holding the old kitchen "together" was like finding a page of red Xs. You have a great start, an envisioned ending....and a yawning chasm between the two. And oh yeah, the existing porch had been built over an old hot tub.  

If this were a book for which I had no contract, I might have just thrown up my hands at this point. However, this was a house we had bought. Fortunately we had a great contractor who, after he stopped laughing, figured out how to rebuild the kitchen and porch. Another set of plans to the Historical Commission, who move with the speed of the Supreme Court. Construction stopped until we heard from them.

That was just the first floor. The second floor had it's own issues that involved...you guessed it. Another set of plans to the Historical Commission. 

As I write this, we are getting down to the "final edit." The floors are being refinished, and the screened porch, framed. How long did it all this "revising" take? Eighteen months. I didn't mention the obvious cosmetic changes like repainting every room, changing all the light fixtures and door knobs to something more period appropriate. Replacing the 70's linoleum in the front hall with ceramic tile. Taking down a set of random "columns" in the office that were hiding the fact that that the floor was uneven. 

In writing, I can revise and revise and still never be satisfied with my work. After awhile. I'm not revising; I'm just re-arranging nitpicky details that don't really matter. I'm revising to put off the inevitable...showing my masterpiece to someone who may or may not like it. 

With the our new house, we had only ourselves to please (and of course the Historical Commission.) The inevitable is now putting our current house up for sale. Which means...another renovation job. Gutting a master bathroom. A new roof. Painting inside and out. But it's time to get on with it. 

We hope to move by mid-July.

Posted by Mary Ann Rodman

FINALLY...Doin' As I Tell Others!

                            "And now we're back where we started

                              Here we go 'round again

                              Day after day, I get up and I say

                              I better do it again."

                                        - The Kinks - Do It Again, 1983

I'm happy to report:

I'm doin' it again,

returning to the picture book biography I've yet to get working

as it should so my subject - a little-known but needs-to-be-

known colonial woman whose efforts changed her people

and our country, grabs the hearts of Young Readers the way

she grabbed mine.

This time, though?

After revisiting my research,

rereading successful mentor texts,

re-examining my numerous rejections,

and of course, reliving in my first notes how I fell in love

with my subject,

I reassessed the last of my iterations, the one that earned 

admiring declines,

with both eyes fully refracted and cataract-free.

FINALLY...I'm doin' as I tell others - the students I teach,

the writers I coach, the Readers of this blog.

Why I didn't do so at the start, seven years ago (!) leaves

me gobsmackingly flummoxed.

Think: the proverbial shoemaker whose children go

shoeless.

Thankfully, in reading through the draft, I did discover

a few story elements that were already working as they

should.

I focused the telling on just ONE of my subject's many

lifetime accomplishments, making sure that accomplish-

ment was child-centered.

(Previous iterations offered a cradle-to-grave overview.)

My language and word choice allowed for a tone that

honored both the woman and the Times.

My love for the subject came through loud and clear.

I cringed, however, identifying all the parts that worked,

but needed to work better.

For starters, I offered my Reader not enough of a way 

in to both this long-ago story and my subject's heart.

I needed to intensify the Recognizable Sentiment 

that allowed my Reader to connect with the subject's 

longed-for-quest  - and - as important, with the 

children my subject knew had lost their way.

The hook I offered wasn't enough to compel the 

Reader to turn the page, worried, caring, fearful.

Sadly, too, my subject was not on the page.

She rarely spoke of what she sought, of what she was

feeling.

"Not enough Show..." I would have written in the 

margins were the text written by one of my writers.

Lots of narration. Little scene building.

I left my Reader helpless to draw any relevancy to

the World today, despite the story's children's

status as immigrants.

More concrete details would have brought to life 

my subject's World and Times.

Though beloved by me, my subject as presented

proved less inspiring than I'd hoped.

In summary, I'd paid little attention to the advice I 

shared in my May 16, 2025 TeachingAuthors post

"It's All About the Heartbeat."

The Good News is, armed with Next Steps, I did

as I shared in my TeachingAuthors post in

November of 2010. I found a piece of music that

sounded like my story - Sergei Rachmaninoff's

Piano Concerto No. 2, first performed in 1901.

For months I've been walking and writing in this 

Russian's company, fully lost in the wonder of his 

sumptuous composition.

If you don't know the piece by its given name,

you will certainly know its themes.

You can listen here: 

Like my picture book biography's subject, this

concerto - its poignancy at times, the longing

it expresses, the sweeps that build and crest,

grabbed my heart long ago the first time I heard 

it. It has never let go.

And that was before I learned how Rachmaninoff

came to write the concerto.

Three years ago, in a Grant Park Symphony

program, I read how Rachmaninoff suffered 

severe depression after his first piano concerto

was disastrously received, so severe he was

unable to compose, until he worked with an

acclaimed hypnotherapist for three years.

"You will begin to write your concerto," he was

told. "You will work with great facility. Your

concerto will be of excellent quality."

Need I write more?

This concerto not only holds Rachmaninoff's

story of Triumph with a deserved capital "T."

It holds my subject's story - one of finding a

way to help children find their way, never

turning back to do what she knew she needed

to do. 

And it holds mine, too - one of FINALLY

finding a way to tell my subject's story to

Young Readers!

At the moment, while considering my 

ending's wording and awaiting my 

brilliant critique partners' critical 

comments, I've decided to use the 

Five-Star Revision Tool I recommended 

in my September, 2011blog post to keep 

me focused.

I've gathered for inclusion in the review 

I wish to receive several of the critical 

comments Amy Alznauer, Candace

Fleming, Barb Rosenstock and Suzanne 

Slade - four of my Favorite Illinois authors -

garnered for their pb bios.

"A great book for a brave woman."

"An important story for children and adults

alike."

"...poetic text..."

"a perfect tribute..."

"Beautifully-written and timely."

"Brings an amazing woman to life."

Here's hoping I won't be singing the Kinks song

I opened with any time soon, at least to ready 

this pb bio for submission.

But if that turns out to be?

At least I know: I'll  be doin' as I tell others!

Here's to sowing, growing and readying your 

stories!

Esther Hershenhorn

P.S.

Thanks to Rose Cappelli for hosting today's

Poetry Friday at Imagine the Possibilities.

Recycling, Revising, Rethinking Old Projects Into New Mediums

 I am writing this post at 11:42 pm after a day of attempting to produce a new short film. I am compelled to direct another film for a 72-hour challenge sponsored by an organization dedicated to inspiring beginning filmmakers, Cinematography for Actors, because they provide an opportunity to get out there and make films with other creatives.  It is an opportunity that is too delicious to pass up.  It requires 72 intense hours of your life and the reward is that you have completed a film.  The last film I made, Don't Assume is now being shown in the LA Film Festival on May 21, 2026 at 7:00pm.

To buy tickets if you're in LA

LOS ANGELES FILM FEST | May 13th-24th 2026 Tickets, Wednesday, May 13-Sunday, May 24 | Eventbrite

Although I was enchanted by filmmaking when I first arrived in Los Angeles in the mid 80's, I never fully pursued this "dream" in serious ways.  I worked on crews and dabbled, but made my way into education and other art forms instead.  This new interest is a much more realistic approach.  I love the format of the short film.  I am long past any "Hollywood Dreams" and am much more interested in telling a story in a different medium, in addition to as an author.

As the writer/director/producer, I find that the first step for me is to pair with a cinematographer, with whom I can collaborate. With this accomplishment, the potential script can begin its journey into the formation of a cinematic reality.  

As an author, the story reality begins with me.  The creative work done, is solitary.  Yes, there are critique partners along the way, my agent's expert adjustments, an editor's desire for the story, and the acquisition team’s decision to make the manuscript into a book.  But for the most part, the process is a relatively solo journey until the manuscript is ready to make its way into the publishing world.

A story on its way to the screen is a completely different process, with many collaborations along the way.

I began this particular endeavor with a creative partnership with the cinematographer, Evan Parquette. Together, we worked the script into shape.  It had many layers for a 7-minute film so there were many hours spent tweaking and twisting the words and directions on the page.

Once satisfied with the shape of the story, we set about finding other members of the crew.  We found a film editor who will take the footage we will shoot and arrange the sound and images into a cohesive story, paying close attention to tone and pacing. Using their artistry, they will tell the story by the arrangement they choose.

We have spent the past few days securing equipment necessary to record sound and image.  As these pieces came together, we were hopeful. But one cannot make a film without a location or actors.  This is where we stumbled.  It is easier said than done.

Writing a manuscript as an author isn’t easy but there are some key differences of the artform.  As an author, I must world-build.  I must use the words to create images of place, in the imagination of the reader.  I must create living, breathing characters with histories, objectives, desires, motivations, and relationships.  If I succeed, the characters come to life in the readers imaginations as well.  Taking up emotional space and navigating a journey through a story that the reader is willing to embark on.

Throughout the day, we thought we had secured the location.  We were on our way, and then we lost it and had to start from scratch.  By afternoon, we were unsuccessful in securing another location.

Meanwhile, we were scrambling to cast the two main actors.  Without actors, we are unable to bring the story to life.  By late afternoon we threw in the towel and pivoted.

As an author, I have complete control over the characters in my story.  In film, I must depend on other people to act out the parts on camera to tell the story.  I have no real control.  It is a feeling of helplessness and frustration.  A feeling that I am not accustomed to.  As an author, the story dictates my progress.  I am experiencing that in film; the logistics and other people dictate the progress.  Film is truly a collaborative medium. I love story crafting as an author.  I am learning to love story crafting as a filmmaker with many collaborators. 

The film story we were trying to tell was multi-dimensional, with many different complicated levels. We were beginning to worry that the elements necessary to tell such a sophisticated story with very little prep would result in a telling that was sophomoric and trite.  

Did I have a different story that we could film? Could I recycle an old story?  How much revision would be necessary?  Changing from a manuscript to film script would take some rethinking.

By late evening, I pulled out a scene from the novel that I have been working on about the twin sister of the school shooter. 

I know these characters backward and forward.  I know what's in their hearts.  I know their wounds.  I know how they love and hate.  Fortunately, it didn't take long to rework the scene into a 7 minute short film.  Thank goodness.  We were out of time.

By late night, we were back to looking for a location and searching for actors for a different story.

It is now 2:32 am.  Tomorrow will tell if the pieces to this puzzle come together.  So many pieces must align.  It’s so labor intensive as well as expensive.  If you have an explosion in the story, it will cost hundreds of thousands of dollars.  As an author, it’s free.  It is all created in the reader’s mind.  Such different mediums, and yet, there is enchantment and excitement in both.  A journey to be taken.

By Zeena M. Pliska

Author of 

Hello, Little One: A Monarch Butterfly Story

Egyptian Lullaby

Chicken Soup for the Soul for Babies Say Thank You? (But Why?)

Chicken Soup for the Soul for Babies A Gift For Me? (I Want It!)

FREE CLASS BAD DAY and 2 poems

Howdy, Campers and Happy Poetry Friday (Irene's hosting today)

I asked UCLA Extension to reschedule my free, 3-hour Writing Poetry for Children ~ an Introductory Course for the Big-Hearted, Brave, & Curious (my title, not necessarily UCLA's)

Why? Because of MASSIVE technical difficulties. 

image by Peggy und Marco Lachmann-Anke from Pixabay 

I'm sure none of you have experienced that before, right?

The good news is that everything will be working smoothly on the new date: May 6, 2026 12 noon PST and here's the link to sign-up.

So...lemme give you the back story through two poems I wrote the day it all began and the next day (the first poem is simply a very long list, Hang in there ~ the 2nd poem is very short):

MY BAD DAY by April Halprin Wayland

note: on Friday the 13th, I was at the Tucson Festival of Books, and everything below is true.

Why was it a bad day?

Well, after 21 days of the flu,

I land in Tucson,

check into my hotel,

and decide to find the University's Education Building
where I have to check in on Saturday.

The trolleys, shuttles, and buses in Tucson are free.

Free, my friend!

The hotel clerk tells me where to the catch the trolley.

I wait.

And wait.

Finally, I ask a woman who looks like she might have information because she is wearing a neon green vest

when the trolley's coming, and she says, because she is, indeed, an information woman, that the electrical circuitry of the trolley rails is down.

I ask her what alternative I could use, and she suggests a shuttle, but the shuttle never comes, so I walk a ways and discover a large transport hub with buses coming and going.

I ask the information supervisor which bus I can take to the university. She walks me to the sign that says,"3 West"

"It should be here soon," she says, walking back to the information station.

After about 25 minutes, the bus comes, and I ask the bus driver to take me to the Education Building. He looks puzzled. Not a good sign. He asks for the address. I give it to him.

He looks it up in his map.

"Nope, I don't go there. But lemme go check."

Comes back 15 minutes later. "You need to take the 16 East."

He drives off. I decide not to wait for the 16 East.

I walk back to my room to work on my laptop, but when I open it, my computer says I have two minutes worth of power (even though it's plugged in). Then it offers to figure out what the problem is. The diagnosis: you've come to the end of the battery life of this laptop.

I'm not worried. I can do a lot on my phone. 

Until I look over at my phone...which just died...

...and it's not charging.

When I have just a few minutes of phone left, I text my longtime tech guy, Scott, who figures out which three Target stores near me carry the products I need.

Argh. I've been boycotting Target.

I remind myself that my mantra is "heal yourself first and the world second."

So...

Scott texts me the links of the products I need, but as my phone's power slowly disappears, the links no longer open when I touch them. 

They're just gobble-dee-goop.

So Scott writes the description of each product including Target's item number. 

1 minute of power left. 

I ask a guy from the hotel to take a picture of what Scott just sent me.

Then I realize I can't call a Lyft or Uber because those are apps...

...are on my very dead phone. 

So I go inside and ask the desk clerk to call me a cab. 

She looks at me blankly...doesn't seem to know the meaning of "calling a cab". 

I gently say, "Try Yellow Cab ~ there's usually a Yellow Cab in a town like this." 

She calls Yellow Cab and they ask her to ask me if I have cash.

Realizing that I may need to keep my cash now that I'm without technology, I tell them I don't.

The desk clerk says there's an ATM in our lobby. 

Well, that sounds promising! 

So I stick in my credit card, and it asks me for my password. At first I can't remember it but when I do, it includes the pound sign... 

...and the keyboard on the ATM does not have a pound sign. 

Finally, the hotel says a taxi will come for me.

I wait outside 10 minutes. 20 minutes. 30 minutes. 40 minutes. 50 minutes...

...then walk across the street to the steak house, which has a wonderful selection of food. I splurge, and bring it all back to my hotel room feeling cozy.

I'll watch TV! So I settle down with my yummy feast and turn on the TV, which immediately goes dark as does my entire hotel room 

and, as it turns out, the entire hotel.

This part is kind of fun. My room is six stories up facing the street, and every building surrounding our hotel is dark. The cars below are stuck in a long line, which, I assume, is because the traffic lights aren't working. When I look at the distant freeway, all the cars on the freeway are also stuck in a long line.

So I eat my yummy dinner and decide to go to sleep.

But it's Easter break near a college campus, so every 15 minutes some hell-bent group of kids in loud cars who have probably been drinking make enormous amounts of noise up and down the street directly below me.

And every 15 minutes I wake up. 

I decide I will call the office in the morning to switch rooms...

...until I remember that I am not a morning person. I think better at night.

So I call the hotel and ask if they possibly have another room for me. 

They're very nice. 

They immediately secure me an interior facing room on the 8th floor.

They send up a roller cart and I pack everything up, 

trying to keep it in some kind of order so that it's easy to unpack.

I go to sleep and thus ends my bad day.

poem (c) April Halprin Wayland
============ 
poem for March 14, 2026

THEIR BAD DAY by April Halprin Wayland

A frightened Ukrainian mother with five freezing children huddles in this bus with 65 freezing neighbors, a bleeding Iranian infant, a deported American grandfather, and the body of the dead soldier from Gaza...

all lean over, CC apeer out the window of the bus at my bad day...

and laugh. 

poem (c) April Halprin Wayland

======

My tech guy, Scott was my rescuer. He helped me order a new laptop at Costco (which is a really good company in a world of creepy businesses), helped me order a new phone, and sat by my side every freaking step of the way (of course, the new laptop decided to rearrange everything as in where is that freaking file?)

I am a lucky duck.

I hope to see some of you on May 6th. (And don't be discouraged by the waiting list...students always need to cancel at the last minute, and UCLA lets waiting list folk in as soon as there's an opening.)

Thank you, Irene, for hosting today!

Do you have a poem inside
about a very, very, very bad day? 

It was theraputic to write about mine...

...share yours!

Revising and Jamming and Finding Your Soul Story

 

Recently I attended a fantastical and inspirational hangout sponsored by Kid’s (and YA) Book Revisions Plus, hosted by Emma Dryden, Eileen Robinson and Harold Underdown. With over a hundred years of editorial experience, the three hosted the hangout to introduce the new direction for their collaboration and to gather ideas about what writers want to learn. 

Harold, Emma and Eileen

As I listened, I was very keen on the current changes happening in the business of publishing, as was everyone who attended. Publishing is a business, and now more than ever, it is a very dispiriting one.  As the discussion started, it was a relief to realize that I was not the only one who felt that perhaps my story doesn’t fit in.

As Harold introduced themselves, it became obvious that the prevailing theme of their new collaboration – as it has been through their many years of working together and as friends – that the publishing business is external from the craft, and it is open to very subjective opinions and the whims of trends. That the dreadful truth about publishing is the odds are against us.

What is discussed is a new definition, a new purpose for the revising process.  Revision is about finding your soul story.

I am reminded of a favorite idiom: find your jam.  To connect with something you prefer, desire, love.  To hangout with these three is akin to jamming, much like musicians finding their melody. The discussions focus on technique, improvisation to foster creatively, developing skills, and – most of all -- having fun.

And so it seems, revision is akin to jamming. As Eileen reminded everyone, revision allows the writer to not only come back to yourself but also to stay true to yourself.

As Emma reaffirmed,  writers write. Everything else -- everything external -- is beyond our control. Writing is an internal process. As such, we focus on what we can control: ourselves. Adapt, rethink, refocus. Take chances. Leave your comfort zone. Write something new. Write something different. Submit, and submit again. Persevere. 

Recently I returned to an old manuscript. I began working on this piece with Emma over a decade ago, about the time my book, Girls of Gettysburg (Holiday House, 2014) came out.  (Fun fact: I had worked with Harold on Girls of Gettysburg!) And through the many revisions, and even a couple of rejections, it became obvious that something was missing. O, my then-agent and an editor loved the voice, and they loved the characters, they loved the action and the setting. It was technically a good story, but something else wasn’t quite connecting. Putting that manuscript aside, I began working on something else. (Another fun fact: I worked with Harold and Eileen on this new story!) This new story also went through several revisions. I took more chances with this one and left my comfort zone. I ignored trends. With each revision, I began to sense what had been missing with the old story: myself.

 By the way, that new story, The Barbary Chronicles: The Lost Prince, will be available October 2026, published by Charlesbridge Moves!  You can find pre-order and more information here!

So returning to that old manuscript, I’m revamping and recycling, and taking some big chances. I think I get it now! Fingers crossed.

To cite another favorite idiom: We do our best and leave the rest to the universe.  

 Or, as Neil deGrasse Tyson offers much more eloquently --  and really, who else knows more about how the universe works than the mighty Tyson:

“The problem, often not discovered until late in life, is that when you look for things in life like love, meaning, motivation, it implies they are sitting behind a tree or under a rock. The most successful people in life recognize, that in life they create their own love, they manufacture their own meaning, they generate their own motivation.” -- Neil deGrasse Tyson

 In other words, we be jamming now!

-- Bobbi Miller

Recycling, Revising, and Rethinking

Happy first Poetry Friday of National Poetry Month! I share a "recycled" poem at the end of today's post, along with a link to this week's Poetry Friday roundup.

Last Friday, April wrapped up our series of posts on new things the TeachingAuthors have been doing this year. We thought it would be a fun contrast to follow up that topic with ideas related to recycling, revising, or rethinking old projects or activities. 

When I started at Vermont College way back in 1998, I was definitely NOT a fan of revision. One of the most important things I learned in the MFA program was that the real work of writing is in revision, or as faculty member Sharon Darrow used to say, "re-visioning." I came to love revision, and, as a writing teacher, I try to instill that same love in my students. Re-visioning can lead not only to a more powerful piece of writing, but also to publication. 

Let me share two fairly recent examples from my own work, one prose, the other poetry:

In February 2025, I posted here about the publication of my nonfiction story, “A Life-Changing New Year's Tradition,” in Chicken Soup for the Soul Tales of Christmas:101 Stories of Holiday Joy, Love and Gratitude edited by Amy Newmark. However, I didn't mention that the piece was the revision of a story Chicken Soup had rejected two years earlier. I had put the story aside for a while (which I find crucial for gaining perspective) and then reread the piece trying to see it as an editor might. I realized the story needed a tighter focus and a stronger ending. With the help of my critique group, I reworked the story with that in mind, and the new version was accepted.     

In a blog post last October, I accounced the publication of my poem "Thirsty Amaryllis" in the fall 2025 issue of Little Thoughts Press Magazine. That time, I did describe the poem as one "I first wrote years ago, but it wasn't until recently that I revised it to my satisfaction." Prior to the acceptance by Little Thoughts Press, I'd submitted a different draft called "Amaryllis Gift" to another journal. Here's that earlier version:

              Amaryllis Gift

       Four scarlet trumpets
       sing a silent song
       to the sun.

       I stoop to water
       their parched roots.

       In return, they caress 
       my shoulder—
       powdery lips
       blessing me with

       an amaryllis kiss.

  © 2022 Carmela A. Martino. All rights reserved.

While revising, I worked on adding more alliteration, and I played around with stanza breaks and formatting. Here's the version published in Little Thoughts Press. (You should be able to click on the image to enlarge it if needed.)

The changes may seem minor, but it took a lot of rethinking to see new possibilities for this poem. I'm so glad I made the effort! 

How about you? Do you have a project sitting in the proverbial drawer that might be worth recycling, revising, or rethinking? I'd love to read your feedback in the comments. 

When you're done here, don't forget to head over to Matt Forrest Esenwine's Radio, Rhythm, & Rhyme for this week's Poetry Friday roundup! 

Happy writing (and revising)!

Carmela