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 

2 NEW THINGYS: Singing and Getting Published

Howdy, Campers ~ and Happy Poetry Friday! (the links to PF and to my upcoming free poetry class are at the end of this post).

TeachingAuthors' topic this round is "Something New for the New Year" and it's my turn. But there's so much happening these days...where should I begin?

Let's start with singing!

For years, I've run two folk music clubs: The Santa Monica Folk Music Club and The Beach Cities Folk Club. So many songs are poetry...and so much poetry can be sung.

About a year ago, I approached the organizers of our local politial events, suggesting that our rallies needed music. Singing together in the midst of struggle brings joy and a sense of community to marches and rallies.

I've been the "music wrangler" ever since. We named ourselves The Resisters. My favorite feedback we've gotten after a rally is: "I come to these rallies to hear the music!"

And then, in January of this year, in the midst of danger and horrific violence in Minnesota, a beautiful thing took seed. Watch Anderson Cooper's 3 min and 30 second video to witness its growth.

Singing Resisance now trains groups all over this country (called Pods) teaching us that singing is resistance.

There are 18 singers in our pod. The number of singers who are available for any one event varies widely--once there were only two--and that worked out just fine. Our pod meets at my house, and today eight singers showed up for our last rehearsal before the March 28th rally

I am filled with joy. Most of the songs we will be singing are short and easy to pick up. One of my favorite songs is longer but also easy to learn. It's called SINGING FOR OUR LIVES, written by Holly Near. Watch Holly lead her crazy-beautiful 4 minute song

Now, let's talk poetry!

I'm thrilled to announce that one of my poems has just been published in 

DEMOCRACY'S URGENT CALL ~ 

A Poetry Anthology by League of Women Voters Members

Here were the submission guidelines:

We invite original poems that reflect on the guiding principles of democracy—such as justice, equality, freedom, civic engagement, and the common good.​ Please avoid references to specific elected officials or political parties, as we are committed to maintaining a nonpartisan focus.

We welcome a wide range of voices, styles, and perspectives. ​Surprise us with something fresh—insightful, musical, memorable. We’re looking for poems that move us: make us laugh, cry, reflect, or ​see the world in a new way. Both free verse and traditional forms are encouraged.

Please submit one unpublished, original poem of no more than 30 lines, ​including stanza breaks, formatted to fit on a single page using Times New Roman with 12 pt font. Submissions with special formatting, visual elements, or artwork cannot be considered.

A panel including a former Poet Laureate, a University of Wisconsin Professor of Poetry, and an experienced editor will review submissions and make final selections.

Chosen poems will reflect the League of Women Voters’ commitment to nonpartisanship as well as diversity, equity, and inclusion.

So! I plowed through the file of political poems I've written over the years...and also wrote some new ones.

Then I chose six of my favorite poems and sent them to five important people in my life: my husband, my sister Lyra, Teri, the president of our local League, a dear friend who is not on the same page with me politically, and my best friend Bruce (who is also a children's author and poet). 

I asked them to rank the poems first to last.

In a minute I'll post the poem for you, but it might help to know that I live in California, and for years I've been part of a task force in our community to teach people earthquake safety.

Okay, here's the poem my friends voted for, which I submitted, and which was accepted:

EARTHQUAKE
by April Halprin Wayland

She was ready.
On the shelves in her garage
were jugs of water,
cans of cat and dog food,
boxes of energy bars,
bandages, flashlights, batteries.

She was ready.
She stored sturdy shoes
beneath the bed
because in the aftermath,​
when you're running to help someone,
broken glass will slash your feet.

She was ready...
but not for this.
Not for tornadoes,
green-faced warlocks,
prison guards,
or flying monkeys.

Still, she was glad
for the sturdy shoes
beneath her bed.
There wasn't time
for bloody feet.
She was off to save the world.

poem © 2026 April Halprin Wayland

Thank you, Marcie, for hosting Poetry Friday this week!

Oh--I almost forgot!

Come join my next 3-hour free class 

on the first day of Poetry Month, April 1st 2026:

UCLA Extension's Writers' Program class, 

INTRO TO WRITING THE CHILDREN'S POETRY

~ A Workshop for Absolute Beginners

Enrollment ends soon...classes fill FAST. Why?

Because UCLA Extension offers 3-hour classes for FREE!

Do I still get nervous when my classes begin? You betcha.

But the moment I know my students and I are in that flow--that's the Great Gift.

many thanks to Barney Saltzberg for this illustration

Note: this is a basic workshop for absolute beginners.

💓Thank you for reading this post💓

Now, it's your turn. What's something new in your life this year?

Writers Groups--Now New and Improved by Mary Ann Rodman

 Continuing with our current topic "Something New for the New Year"....I have joined a new writer's group. Actually the group itself has been around awhile, it's just taken me this long to remember to reserve Thursday mornings to meet.

What's really new is that this is a Zoom group. The members are friends from the Vermont MFA program and live in Minnesota or Wisconsin. I live in Atlanta. 

Many years ago, before iPhones and texts and Zoom, I belonged to a metro Atlanta critique group. "Metro Atlanta" covers about 8 counties, and I live at the northern edge of the area. The rest of the group lived a couple counties to the east. The first Sunday night of the month, I would drive 100 miles, round trip, to group. Atlanta traffic is always terrible, especially Sunday nights when people are returning from out-of- town.

This did not stop me from meeting with the group known as WINGS. (This was so long ago, I no longer remember what WINGS stood for! ) They were terrific writers and critiquers, or I certainly wouldn't have made that long trek. These four ladies critiqued all but one of my published books. (My Best Friend sold just before I joined the group.) I could not have finished, let alone sold, any of them without their sharp insights and thoughtful questions. It was like having four editors, before sending my work to an actual editor. 

We were as diverse a group as you could find. What brought us together was a passion for children's literature and a desire to contribute to the genre. We were each others biggest fans and greatest critics. The Women of WINGS were the best.

But as they say, all good things must come to an end. Members retired or moved or developed health problems.  New members joined, but the group no longer was exclusively children's writers. There were writers whose work I was at a loss to critique (especially poetry). By then I was traveling to Mississippi once a month trying to look after my father, (which could be a whole book in itself.) 

I became a former member of WINGS.

Without a monthly meeting to spur me on, my creative output shrank. Long distance elder care and the seven hour drive to see Dad zapped my energy, creative and otherwise. Some years, this blog was all I wrote. Dad died, but I was still driving to Mississippi to settle his estate and clear out his semi-hoarded house. Then COVID hit. I was drained. (Weren't we all?) What's the point of writing I thought. It's not like I had an agent or editor panting for my work.  

I missed WINGS but there wasn't anything I could do about it. There wasn't another group around devoted solely to children's writing. (At least not any that wanted to new members.)

Then, I got an email from a friend from the Vermont writing program. She proposed that a bunch of us from the program and her local SCBWI meet weekly on Zoom. This would not be a critique group, but more of a support group. There would be a brief discussion of how we were doing and what we were working on. Then we would sign off for an hour, write, then check back in and talk about how it went. 

This was the kick in the pants I needed to go back to a first draft that had been growing cobwebs since 2013. Knowing I couldn't write longer than an hour freed me. I can write for an hour! When I check in the next Thursday, I can pick up where I left off and go another hour.

I know. An hour a week. Big deal. Stephen King write all day every day, 364 (I hear he takes his birthday off). I think about Toni Morrison who wrote at 4 am before her day job. I remember my old self, writing in car pool lines and the skating rink where my daughter spent 80% of her childhood. But life changes. I'm ....gasp...older. What hasn't changed is my love of writing. The Thursday Morning Zoomers remind me of that. Sometimes we don't remember why we are trying to write in a chaotic world that doesn't support creativity. We tell each other that is exactly why we need to keep going. Thanks to the Zoomers, I feel pretty confident of finishing another draft of my book this year. (Now whether anyone will ever read it is another issue. I try not to worry about that.)

So that's my new-old thing--writer's group. Writing is a solitary pursuit. There is no schmoozing at coffee break or getting together after work for happy hour. Sometimes you. have to crawl out of your cave and communicate with your own kind.

Once again I'm in the middle of major life changes--downsizing while renovating our forever house--in another state. So mostly I'm plodding along, an hour a week. Is it working? Some Thursdays I write for another couple of hours after we sign off. For the record, I wrote the first draft of this post during my Zoomer hour yesterday.

Keep writing, y'all.  The world needs us.

Posted by Mary Ann Rodman

What's old is new again!

Sharing the New Somethings I've so far planned for this new year 

has me smiling.

Here's why.

I collected so many 5 x 7 Little Ling Calendars since 1996, they 

became re-usable!

My calendar match for 2026?

1998...

...truly a Banner Year for me professionally.

Fingers crossed the New Somethings that follow be the first three 

of many that auger a similar year.

They certainly prove the adage "Everything old is new again."

New Something #1

I've returned to beginning each day writing my stories.

That practice led to 1998's publication of my first children's book, 

There Goes Lowell's Party!, as well as the sale of two picture 

books - Chicken Soup by Heart and Fancy That.

For eight weeks now, I've spent my mornings with a Story Star 

who claimed my heart and refused to let go. 

As luck would have it, her story is set in Philadelphia in the

late 1830's, the very time and setting of Fancy That.

First thing each morning, a fresh cup of coffee beside me, I'm

back in my limner Pippin Biddle's world, re-reading research

notes, paging through familiar reference books, immersing

myself in my character's story to learn who and what claim

her heart.

Fancy that!

New Something #2

I will not only teach one of the Chicago Newberry Library's

many singular workshops - "Oh, the Possibilities: Writing

for Children" on February 28.

For the first time ever, I will be a Newberry Library student,

registered and rarin' to go!

"Exploring Chicago's NorthSide" is an eight-week seminar 

that explores seven of Chicago's neighborhoods on the 

near North side through readings and Walking Tours.

I found my way to the Newberry Library soon after I began

teaching Writing for Children classes at Ragdale in 1998.

This year marks my 25th year of teaching (both in person

and virtually) "a bounty of new berries, each ripe with

story."

How nice to be a "new berry," too.

New Something #3

John F. Kennedy said, "Change is the law of life."

The Manuscript Workshop I've taught for the last ten

summers at the Landgrove Inn in Landgrove, Vermont 

now has:

    new dates - May 31 through June 5;

    new owners - Emily and Bruce Haupt;

    a new name - The Landgrove;

    a new chef - John Gould;

    and at long last, new Internet service!

The stars were aligned at SCBWI's 1998 Summer

Conference because not only was I named SCBWI's

Member of the Year, I met Barbara Seuling!

It was Barbara who mentored me to become a Writing

Coach, and as if that wasn't life-changing enough, 

Barbara gifted me with the opportunity to continue

her long-time Manuscript Workshop.

The Workshop evolved, so that now I both teach and

coach writers to help them tell their stories, in a much

smaller group limited to six.

Barbara's demand for Excellence and love of writing

for children remain ever present.

Here's to your New Somethings for a Banner Year!

Oh, and thanks to Susan at Chicken Spaghetti

for hosting today's Poetry Friday.

Esther Hershenhorn

P.S.

If this now-updated post looks familiar to some, 

it's because I mistakenly uploaded it on

January 23!

P.P. S.

Check out this virtual Newberry Library class:

"Laura Ingalls Wilder and the Little House Books:

'But It Was A Different Time Then."