Goose Lake

Hi everyone,
Here’s a repeat of a post from last month about my e-book, GOOSE LAKE. I’ve shared two or three samples from the collection of prose followed by poem. This one is inspired by the turtles that sun themselves on pretty days on the rocks at water’s edge along my back yard. There are usually more than twenty of them and they all splash off into the lake when I come too close to take a peek or try for a picture. Click the cover on the left for Amazon.com. The one on the right takes you to Barnes & Noble.

During the poetry workshop last week in Honesdale, we talked about e-publishing. Sandy Asher and I also included two guest editors in our most recent series of WRITERS AT WORK. The pros of self-publishing on the Internet include the freedom to publish our own work if we feel strongly moved to do so. One of the cons is that you have to do your own promotional work. So far I don’t give myself high marks in this department. I’m pleased with the writing. It feels like some of my best work. But there are a lot of books listed by the online stores and mine is just one of them. Unless someone looks for it by title or is interested in poetry about nature, it isn’t likely to find a large audience until and unless I figure out how to create one.

I hope that in the next month I’ll find a little time to try my hand at promoting GOOSE LAKE. If you look it up and it appeals to you, I hope you’ll get a copy. It costs $3.99. If you like the book and don’t mind leaving a review, those are appreciated. It also helps, I’m told, to “like” it. Perhaps you know someone who might enjoy the collection. Please let them know that it’s available. Thanks! Here’s the sample that I shared last month. Before long I’ll put up another one.

What Was That?
David L. Harrison

If the lake were a mouth wide open to swallow sky and popcorn clouds, the narrow strip of land stretched tightly around it would be its lips. Seeds planted by wind and obliging birds sprout tangled gardens of saplings, and weeds run amok. In rocky places, stones shoulder to shoulder wear sunbathing turtles like bronze helmets.

The lips of the lake never sleep. Life and death meet in the twisted underbrush where herons stand like statues of herons awaiting the unwary. A kingfisher that looks like it needs a haircut watches the shallows for a minnowy snack.

Geese defiant with motherhood hiss away foxes with a hankering for gosling. Finches flit from limb to bank, ignoring sleepy-eyed bullfrogs that need their rest till sundown.

Ducks catapult into the water
and herons’ legs trail like kite tails
in their sudden flight to
somewhere safer.

Flat shells smack the lake.
Bony heads resurface,
stare at their forsaken thrones.

What was that?

Maybe nothing.

A dog barked,
a child ran,
a turtle slipped.

All’s clear
on the lip of the lake,
for now.

Instructions for free Kindle app:
http://www.amazon.com/gp/feature.html/ref=sa_menu_karl4?ie=UTF8&docId=1000493771#

Instructions for free Nook app:
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/u/free-nook-apps/379002321/

Reflections on the poetry workshop

Hi, everyone,

Welcome to a new week and all it holds. We spent part of the weekend in the garage. It’s surprising what you find in your garage when you start shoving boxes around and actually peeking into a few. If anyone is looking for a good place to start a poem or maybe a mystery story, look no further.

I also spent part of the weekend reflecting on the poetry workshop at the Boyds Mills farm. It’s hard to imagine a more congenial group. Thanks to Marcia and her crew for feeding us as well as any cruise could boast. Thanks to Kent Brown for leading the vision to create the “barn” and the opportunity for so many talented, creative people to spend time there honing their skills and picking up tips from those who have gone before and are glad to share what they have learned. Thanks to Alison Myers and Jo Lloyd for setting up the workshops and staying in touch with all the players throughout the Highlights Foundation’s busy season.

Thanks to my co-leaders of this workshop, Eileen Spinelli and Rebecca Dotlich, for their wisdom and enthusiasm as we teamed in various combinations to keep the days lively and informative. Thanks to our special guests for the week, Rebecca Davis, Marjorie Maddox, and Melanie Hall, for adding greatly to the richness of the experience by sharing their own insights into this tricky thing called writing for children. A special thanks to Jerry Spinelli who not only accompanied his wife but sat in on numerous presentations and made himself available to anyone with a question about his wonderful work. He even posed willingly for pictures. Well done everyone!

A way-up-there highlight of the week for me was when my friend and fan Rachel Heinrichs came to see me all the way from West Chester, Pennsylvania.

Her heroic mom, Michele, drove more than three hours each way to make it happen and even brought young sister Sarah. Rachel was in sixth grade this year and was named mascot for her school’s ball games. A while back she shared with me a picture of herself looking mighty fine dressed in her cougar costume. Rachel and I became friends when she was chosen (by popular vote) Monthly Hall of Fame Young Poet for April, 2010. Later that year I spoke at the New Jersey SCBWI and Rachel asked her mother to drive her there so that we could meet. Michele did. When I introduced 4th grade poet, Rachel Heinrichs, to the auditorium filled with writers, they gave her a well deserved round of applause. It happened again this time too! Thank you Rachel, Michele, and Sarah for coming so far to brighten my day.

Most of all I thank those who attended this workshop to spend five days learning, sharing, exploring, and enjoying the inspiring atmosphere that pervades the place where we stayed and worked together: Joy Acey (Arizona), Robyn Black (Georgia), Christi Diamond (New York), Julia Ferdinand (Barbados), Carolyn Hankel (Arizona), Sharon Barry (Washington, DC), Cory Corrado (Canada), Joanne Durham (Maryland), Jacqueline Gramann (Texas), Julie Hedlund (Colorado), Bill Johnson (Pennsylvania), Bridget Magee (Arizona), Heidi Mordhorst (Maryland), Dale Purvis (Georgia), Buffy Silverman (Michigan), Hannah Wilde (California), Lucinda Kennaley (Missouri), Rebecca Menshen (Pennsylvania), Jeanne Poland (New York), Rebecca Shoniker (North Carolina), and Liz Steinglass (Washing, DC).

I apologize that most of the pictures I took are of poor quality. The camera isn’t at fault. In case you wonder about the dead sparrow, I was distracted by it during one of Rebecca’s writing exercises. Everyone else was using handouts with pictures and poems for models but I kept looking at the unfortunate bird so my quick poem turned out to be about it.

Service in the Rain
David L. Harrison

Small brown bird lying on its side
as though asleep,
recently a living thing flitting
limb to limb, flying fatally
against a windowpane,
we bathe now, anoint its body,
wash dust from stilled feathers,
mourn its loss as only drops
of sweet rain can do.

Here’s another first draft, this one in response to a prompt by Eileen to think about and write about a memory. When I was a six-year-old, living with my parents in Arizona, they bought me for my birthday exactly what I wanted, a cowboy outfit complete with hat, bandana, chaps and a cap gun pistol in a holster. I was like “Yeehaw!” But I was a boy who liked to imagine things and invest inanimate objects with special powers known only to me. I liked my new six-shooter cap pistol but I loved even more something I found in the yard, something even better. As I remember, my parents struggled to understand my preference.

I have a secret,
shh, don’t tell.
In my pocket
I have a rock
that shoots out
deadly rays
and knocks down
alien space ships.
It looks like a rock
but really it’s not.
Shh, don’t tell.

As you can tell, we had fun and I heard talk among some attendees about keeping in touch and returning next year. Good memories. My thanks to all.

David

My Word of the Month poem

Hi everyone,

Here’s my Word of the Month poem, inspired by my plane rides to and from Honesdale.

The Window
by David L. Harrison

There’s something about looking out
an airplane window.
Do you feel it too?

Perhaps it’s the land drawn
like history’s checkerboard pages
recorded endlessly beyond
my horizon,

tree-fortified rivers shouldering
down valleys of least resistance,

Lilliputian towns –
miniature yards with droplet pools,
fans of ball diamonds,
ribbon streets –
like board games sliding
out of view, out of mind.

Something about looking out
an airplane window
makes me want to respond,
to write about . . .
what?

We land and once again
I forget
the question.

David

Home again home again . . .

Hi everyone,

I’ll post a picture or two of the poetry workshop when I have a few minutes. It was a good week that included a lot of writing and discussing poetry. I got to bed at 1:30 this morning and gave myself the gift of an extra hour of sleep today. I look forward to being home for quite a while now because I’m seriously behind on my own work and need solid blocks of time to start catching up.

Fuller report soon. For now, thanks for being patient during a period when I rarely had an Internet connection or the time to post.

David