Writing Update

Hello folks!

Today I thought I would give an update on some of my writing and how it is going. I have some pretty cool stuff in the works that I will hopefully be able to announce soon, which has given me a bit of motivation to really grind in and get some work done.

Part of my process is not getting frustrated with writing, which usually leads to me pushing out some pretty bad material. I also try and follow the old writing adage, “Just put it on the page.” To combine these two ideas if a story is frustrating me for whatever reason I will take a break and work on something else. That leads to a lot of open projects and higher quality work. One of the things I have begun working on is children’s poems (think “Where the Sidewalk Ends). I do not consider myself a poet, but since poetry is traditionally a shorter form of prose it is fun to take a break from a story and actually feel like I accomplished something. I do not know if this is publishable, but it is fun and I enjoy it. Here is one of my shortest poems, I do not think it needs much of an introduction:

An Elegant Explanation of the Complex Dynamics of Smelly Children

Today I pooped and didn’t wipe all the way.

Now my unders are brown and I’ll stink the rest of the day.

So prepare for more of that!

The other project I have been working on more is a story written for my second daughter Piper, called “Piper Page Will Touch the Stars”. It is a book about how children put their value in their success rather than the effort they put in. On a personal note, it is a love letter to my Piper, and Jovie, that I will always love them and I will always be proud of them even when they fail. So here are the first two chapters, please let me know what you think! (And I apologize for some formatting issues, I copied and pasted this from Word and I can’t figure out how to fix it. I am a writer, not an editor).

Piper Page Will Touch the Stars

Piper Page was not an orphan. There were lots of people around her that wanted to say that she was an orphan, but she was not. Yes, she lived in an orphanage, and yes, her parents were not on earth, but that is not because they died. Piper was proud to say that her parents planned a secret space mission to their favorite asteroids, planets, and moons. Piper was sure that they were in their ship rocketing from here to there, searching for the most impressive space rock they could bring back for their daughter.

            So, when people said she was an orphan, or tried to convince her that her parents wouldn’t come back, Piper nodded her head but kept the secret that she knew her parents were alive and exploring the mysterious expanse of space. As such, Piper tried to keep their family traditions alive, like naming constellations, giving food silly space names (ice cream was frozen alien boogers), and singing before bed.

Every night, just as Mom did, Piper sang the song:

I’m gone for now.

But I’ll be back soon.

And before too long

We will touch the moon.

I’ll hug your neck.

I’ll kiss your face,

And you’ll fly with me,

To outer space.

We will leap to Saturn,

We will hop to Mars,

And with after a stop to Venus,

Piper Page will touch the stars!

The song used to bring tears to her eyes. But now she was almost seven and, while she was still sad, she was tough and could handle Mom and Dad flying off to outer space. Now she would sing the song, looking out of her window and wondering for a moment which star they were closest to. She didn’t stay up late, and she didn’t pout. Because Piper Page was not an orphan.

Still, her life went on. She had to live at the orphanage, called Little Sweethearts Group Home (ran by the sweet lady named Miss Carr). Her schedule was boring and repetitive. Every morning she woke up to the annoying alarm that sounded like a sick duck trying to teach a math class, showered in water that was always just too cold, and ate a breakfast that someone else might have already chewed up. She did get to go to school, and she liked that. She would run, play games, and learn all that she could so that she could make her parents so proud when they got back to earth.

Any day that she could, Piper would climb to the top of the jungle gym and reach her hand as far as she could, reaching towards the sky, hoping to touch the stars. She never did. The jungle gym was not nearly tall enough to get to outer space.

Today, the day before her seventh birthday, she decided to go out with an added layer of determination.

“Maybe if I can touch the stars they will come home,” Piper said to herself as she paced beneath the monkey bars. She could feel the teachers and other students watching her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw several adults with that face that said, “We feel so bad that you can’t understand what is going on in the real world” as if all kids were dumb and lost. Miss Carr said they meant well, but a lot of adults forget how to talk to kids when they grow up.

The kids that looked at her seemed to feel the same way but were not as good at pretending to be nice. Piper had plenty of friends. The girls from the orphanage all banded together like the tribe of Amazonian warriors they read about in a geography lesson. Every school had its bullies and Piper’s school was not any different. A few boys and girls loved to find out what made other kids cry then they seemed to do their best to make it happen.  

As she paced, those mean kids found her like a dog chasing a squirrel. She could hear them mocking her.

“Wanna see if your parents are on top of the jungle gym?” one said, Piper didn’t listen.

            “Maybe you can find your own brains in those clouds!” another one yelled. Piper did not listen.

            “You’re never gonna find them,” a third one said, “you are always going to be alone!”

            Piper absolutely and positively did not listen.

            Gathering her courage, Piper walked to the base of the tower of plastic pipes. She felt her feet sink into the rubber balls on the ground and looked up to the top.

            Grabbing the first rung on the ladder she took a deep breath and said, “I can do this, and I will do this. I can do hard things!”

            As she climbed, hand over hand, step over step, she heard some adults talking.

            “There she goes again.”

            “Bless her soul, I wish she could be happy.”

            “I hope she doesn’t hurt herself.”

            Piper did not pay attention to them. She pulled herself with her arms, and pushed herself with her feet, doing her best to mimic the monkeys she watched on TV. Normally, the sun would beat down on her as she climbed so that she would start to sweat, and her hands would become slippery. Today there were plenty of clouds in the sky keeping the air cool and crisp like the world was giving her an early birthday present. Each time she grabbed a new pipe or pole she heard the black beaded bracelet that Mom gave her hit against the metal, like a tiny crowd cheering her on.

            The top of the tower was a dome, where all the pipes connected into a plastic circle just big enough to stand on. With a grunt, she pulled herself to the top and stood up. She kept her knees bent, making sure she had her balance. As soon as Piper was steady, she straightened her legs and stood on the tip of her toes, and reached her arm as far as it would go.

            “I can, and I will!” she said, voice strained like she was lifting a heavyweight.

            Nothing happened.

            She did everything that she could to reach even the smallest bit further, stretching like a rubber band to the sky. As she did, the clouds parted, and a single ray of sun landed on her black beaded bracelet. The light was so bright that she had to squint her eyes.

            “I can and I will!” Piper yelled. It seemed like the entire playground, both students and teachers, were watching her.

            Every finger on her hand ached from stretching so far, but she did not stop. Her toes started to hurt from pushing her body up higher, but she didn’t stop. Somehow, in some way, Piper knew that she was close. She was certain that today was the day that she would tou-

            The bell rang.

            “Line up! Time for class,” her teacher, Mr. Ground, yelled.

            Piper crawled back down the tower, and the sun went back behind the clouds. Without making a single sound she got into line.

            “Didn’t get it?” a sweet voice said. It was her friend Jasmine, another girl from the orphanage.

            Piper wanted to talk but couldn’t like her throat was blocked by a sad blue ball. She just shook her head. Before going inside, she looked down at her hands, just to make sure that they were empty. When she saw they were, Piper knew she would be spending another birthday all alone.

2

            The next morning, her seventh birthday, Piper woke up and let out a long, boring yawn. She learned something at that moment that most adults don’t realize until they turn either 23 or 31. That thought was, her birthday was not that special unless someone made it special. She was happy to be getting older but was much less happy about not being with her very-much-alive parents even longer.

She washed, dressed, and cleaned her room just like normal, though her mind worked like a semi-truck climbing a steep hill.

If Mom and Dad were here, she thought, they would make today one of the most special days ever.

And that was true. Most parents absolutely love making their children’s birthdays as amazing as they could be. Ms. Carr, doing her best to fill the spot of a loving parent, did as well. But running an orphanage with lots of extra kids and not a lot of extra money made it difficult. Piper knew that she would get a small cupcake with a single candle. There would be no presents, and there would be no party.

“I will just do it myself!” Piper exclaimed, much to the shock of the rest of the children sitting around the table. They had not heard Piper’s long thought process and so wore faces of confusion. Piper had heard her own thoughts and as such was not shocked at her outburst. Rather, she had concluded that family is what makes birthdays special, and since her family was flying amongst the stars, she would make her own birthday special.

As she pulled her backpack off the hook near the front door, she waved goodbye to Ms. Carr.

“Happy birthday!” the older woman said, her face clearly showing that she wished in her deepest heart that she could do more for the girl.

Piper waved back and trotted onto her bus. None of the kids knew it was her birthday, probably because she didn’t tell them. So, even though her stomach turned over on itself like it was full of boiling mud, Piper stood up and in her loudest voice yelled to everyone who could hear.

“Today is my birthday and I am turning seven!”

            There was a moment of silence when no one made a sound, and at that moment, Piper was sure that this was a mistake. Maybe she should just sit quietly, pretend that today was just a boring regular day.

            Just as the thought was forming in her head Jasmine stood up, smile so wide it could light up the sky, and said, “Happy birthday, Piper!”

            Just like dogs who start to bark at other dogs barking the bus erupted into shouts and laughs and cheers, many kids gave sincere well-wishes to the birthday girl. There had probably been a few children, like the ones who made fun of her on the monkey bars the day before, that made fun of her. Piper decided that she would not hear them, and only listen to the people who spoke kind words.

            And that was only the start of a wonderful day. As they played on the jungle gym before school all the kids decided to let her pick the game (she chose Lava Monster, of course). In class, Piper saw Jasmine whisper in Mrs. Walker’s ear, and a few minutes later the whole class sang her songs. After lunch, Mrs. Walker pulled out a few bags of sweets and let Piper pick her favorite video for the class to watch, though it had to be from the collection of documentaries that taught something (it was school, after all). Piper did not hesitate and pulled out the one with planets and stars all over the cover.

            The children watched, ate, and whispered to each other when the teacher wasn’t looking. It was a fantastic day. Even though she had been bragging about herself, Piper was proud that she stood up on the bus. She was proud that she did something for herself that needed to be done. She let her mind wander and looked out of the window at Mount Shine, the hill that looked over their city. She decided to remember how nice Jasmine had been to her and would make sure to return the favor when it was her birthday. Jasmine, like Piper, would be alone on her special day.

            As these thoughts swirled around in her head, a squirrel peaked its nose over the edge of the window and looked at all the kids in the class. Piper sucked in her breath because, for a moment, she thought the squirrel was green. Before she could get a closer look, the animal had dropped its head and vanished.

            On their way back to the orphanage Piper sat next to Jasmine. Tired after a long day the bus was much quieter. Piper looked at her dear friend and leaned towards her.

            “Thank you,” she said.

            Jasmine smiled back.

            “We all need someone to help,” Jasmine said.

            Dinner went as expected, and the single cupcake with the single candle was presented to Piper after all the girls had eaten.

            “Make a wish my dear,” Miss Carr said.

            Piper sucked in her breath and prepared to blow out the small flame when an idea came to her.

            “Can I eat this alone?” she asked.

            Miss Carr gave her a worried look.

            “I want to eat it under the stars, so my parents can see.”

            Whenever parents are mentioned in an orphanage it is a sensitive time. Each child knew exactly how important it was to feel loved and included. The small flashes of sorrow in all their eyes said that each one of them was desperate to be part of a family, whatever that might look like.

            “Yes, my dear, yes,” Miss Carr said and slid the plate with the chocolate cupcake across the table. Piper accepted it and walked carefully up the stairs, moving slow enough that the candle would stay lit. She worked her way to the top floor and down the hall to her favorite bench that sat below a window. She pushed the latch and the hinges swung in, letting in a cool, gentle breeze. Tonight was a great night for stars, the sky was clear, and the moon was big and round. She looked down at the small cupcake in her hands and, even though today had been a great day, felt sad.

            She wanted to make a wish but didn’t know what to say. Thoughts of a home, her parents, a large cake full of burning candles. All the girls here were surrounding her, and several friends from school. Of course, that was all a dream. Nothing more than a wish,

            “Instead of a wish,” she said out loud, “I am going to make a promise. I promise that if my parents come back I will be as kind as Jasmine was to me today. I will make sure everyone’s birthday is better than mine was today.”

            She took a deep breath and blew the small flame out.

            “That was beautiful,” A green squirrel said, his head peaking in through the open window.

            “Thank you,” Piper said, then promptly screamed.

Thank you for reading. Please find me and follow me at L0stTurkey on Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook.