Moments With Joey

Pin It Several of you may know that Jason was about to publish his first book, a collection of his favorite "Moments With Joey" (some stories shared previously on this blog, as well as several new segments) around the time of his death.  Its taken quite some time, but I finally felt ready to revisit this project, as well as a few others he had been working on.

Yes, Jason now has his first book published.

It is bittersweet to see this come to being and not have him here to see his joy from all that hard work finally coming to pass.

Can I just imagine this moment for a minute? (Yeah, I know, my Photoshop skills suck, but just roll with it people!)

Jason had a way with words that could capture a moment and infuse it with  childlike wonder and delight so real that you could reach out and touch it. As such, I feel it is all the (to quote Jason) "more better" to now be able hold a little piece of that magic in our own hands.

Any proceeds that come from the sale of "Moments With Joey" will go into publishing other books he has worked on, including one some of his old students are well familiar with, "Take The Long Way Home". As planned, "Take The Long Way Home" and "My Brother Ryan" will both be published in 2019. Several children's picture books are planned as well. More on that to come.

With the purchase of the paperback, you will receive a deal to also purchase the eBook version at a discounted rate, perfect for giving or keeping for yourself. The Kindle version is also available to read for free as part of the Kindle Unlimited library (just in case you happen to be a member).

You can find "Moments With Joey" currently on Amazon, or just click the link above. Feel free to comment with some of your favorite Joey moments, or memories of Jason below, as we would love to read them.

Lastly, I get asked about the Joey Dosent Lyke Kittys shirt that Jason used to offer (drawn by his ever-talented sister, Miya Edwards). Yes, the shirts are now available again. Click the link above to be taken to Red Bubble's website where you will find the design available on a variety of shirts, hoodies, mugs, stickers and more. As Jason would say, it is all just pure awesomesauce.

I wish you all the best for this holiday season, and joy in the new year to come.

~Shawna

Makes Me Smile #2 - Harry Potter and Connections With Others

Pin It

I went to Macey’s Grocery Store the other day. Two of the employees were having a friendly debate about Dumbledore and Voldemort—oh, I mean You-Know-Who. I lingered in the aisle for a minute or two, listening to their discussion.

As I perused the brands of orange juice, I was reminded of the days when Harry Potter books entirely captivated the world, complete strangers in subways and parks began speaking to each other when each new book was released. People were engaged in conversations about where they were in the story. People were excitedly saying, “I haven’t read that part yet…don’t tell me!” and would eagerly recommence reading.

I can remember my brother and I sitting in our apartment back in our college days, each reading a different Harry Potter book. I recall when one of us would make a shocked or surprised noise that would commence in a flurry of discussion and excitement.

I was brought back to the juice aisle at Macey’s. I listened to the conversation for a moment or two longer before making my way to the register.

Harry Potter makes me smile.



Oh, and I did post over at 4p today.

The Visitor - or Oddity

Pin It Updated at the end...
My class of fifth graders and I were in the middle of a lesson on literature responses when the oddity waltzed in through the classroom door; her brightly lit clothes seemed to match her eccentric behavior as she drew in an exaggerated breath, stood for a moment in muted silence, and gazed out at the tables of students.

A hush fell over the class as they stared at this girl who immediately began to babble on like a cretin. She asked whose birthday it was today in the room – it would just so happen that today was the day *Joey had selected to celebrate his unbirthday because his usually takes place during the summer. I figured that this girl was one of those paid performers who deliver singing telegrams and such, so I took a seat and let her go on – making a mental note to call Joey’s parents and let them know that they really do need to make a teacher aware of things like this beforehand so instruction time isn’t disrupted.

This girl immediately breezed over to Joey - which really unnerved him to be honest, as he is usually shy and reserved. She at once raised her ukulele and began to caterwaul something about it being his unbirthday. Of course she did it with gusto, and I guess that that was the most important part. The part that started to bother me is that she didn’t leave after she was done like most singing telegram deliverers do.

Joey cringed as she reached into her small handbag and pulled out a bag of chocolate chip cookies; he has a fear of people who make sudden movements close to him and I could only wonder why his parents would torture him like this; maybe it was therapeutic? She began waving this bag around and I could only hope that she’d bought them from a reputable bakery.

Joey just slouched in his chair a little and looked ready to bolt.

Still I waited for her to leave as she did this tiptoe floating thing around the room, every breath she took seemed like she were gasping for life because of her excitement; I could tell that the students were wary of that bag of cookies she practically thrust into each of their faces. I just know that the training each of their parents had given them about strangers with candy and motorists with puppies was now kicking into play and a few of them looked around apprehensively. I made a decision to chat with Joey’s parents about this type of unbirthday well wishing in the future.

I still waited for her to leave, but she didn’t. She began talking about secret places they could go to at any moment they wished and I began to wonder if this woman were really sent by one of the parents. I grabbed my camera and took a few shots to send to the police just in the event that she were a raving lunatic and they’d need to find her in the future.

As I rose to call the office on the classroom phone, the girl suddenly whipped out her ukulele again and played a departing song. She babbed on, saying something about living with rats (probably from living in a substandard housing development) and vanished out the door without a trace.

The class sat in stunned silence for nearly ten seconds, and then breathed a collective sigh of relief.

I had them start the next lesson of the day and made a quick phone call to Joey’s parents. They in turn let me know that they hadn’t sent his unbirthday treats yet, and would be in later that afternoon. I thanked them and made a call to the office, letting them know the whole situation.

My principal asked for copies of the photos I’d taken and quickly had some posters made for the neighborhood. He also set up a quick assembly with the school to talk about ‘stranger danger’ and what to do in the future in a lockdown situation.

I still wonder who that girl really was…

Update: BTW, if you haven't clicked here, you just might want to do so…it will explain some things. It is not too dissimilar to what happened last year and another time the year before...


*Not his real name.

The Original Twilight

Pin It Being on a first name basis with the school librarian does yield it’s rewards...

I couldn’t put it down.

If I Were A Woman

Pin It

If that title didn’t catch your attention, I don’t know what will. In fact, already in my mind’s eye I can see my dad catching his breath as the title of the post shows up in his reader, and his heart skips a beat.

No dad, it’s nothing like that.

For the past several years I’ve had this idea. It’s a perfectly, awfully wonderful idea, too. You see, back in 1983 master storyteller, Roald Dahl, published a delightfully horrible book, The Witches. It’s a story that starts out giving a warning to children about witches and how they are indeed real.

Dahl goes on to give a set of helps so that children can recognize these witches who walk among us. Of the things he says to look for, he lets the reader know that witches are completely bald, and must therefore wear wigs to hide this fact. He lets us know that witches have to scratch their heads continually because these wigs are so itchy. He tells the reader that witches have no toes, and therefore will often wear shoes without points to them, or will be forced to cram their feet into pointy shoes that are quite uncomfortable. He mentions that witches have long, curved fingernails and they hide this fact by wearing gloves. And lastly, he tells us that witches will often crinkle their noses when around children because children smell like dogs’ droppings to them.

Brilliant says I.

The story goes on with the following:

For all you know, a witch might be living next door to you right now. Or she might be the woman with the bright eyes who sat opposite you on the bus this morning. She might be the lady with the dazzling smile who offered you a sweet from a white paper bag in the street before lunch. She might even — and this will make you jump — she might even be your lovely schoolteacher who is reading these words to you at this very moment. Look at that teacher. Perhaps she is smiling at the absurdity of such a suggestion. Don't let that put you off. It could be part of her cleverness. I am not, of course, telling you for one second that your teacher actually is a witch. All I am saying is that she might be one. It is most unlikely. But — and here comes the big "but" — it is not impossible.

Can you already see the brilliantly, brilliant idea which had formed in my head?

Of course you have. For you also my friend, are nefarious.

Could I just tell you that if I were a female schoolteacher that I’d start the school year off wearing gloves every day? Could I share with you that I’d scratch my head all the time, and try to look like I were being secretive about it? Might I share that I would act like I were around a skunk when standing next to one of my students? Could I let you know that I would wear the most ugly shoes I could possibly find?

Oh, the deviousness of me.

Then, after the first week of school, I’d start read-aloud time; The Witches would be the very first book I would read to them. When I reached the part about the possibility of their teacher being a witch, but how it is most unlikely, I’d laugh—something akin to the Wicked Witch of the West. I’d tell them that it was absolutely absurd—the idea of therereally being anything such as witches. Then I’d scratch my head with my gloved fingers and crinkle my nose.

I’d love to teach second grade just for this.

I know; I’m a terrible person.

Image garnered from geeksofdoom.com

Bill Peet

Pin It I am curious…have you ever heard this name before?

If you haven’t, you’re probably envisioning a type of moss seed or fertilizer; however, I can assure you that he is neither of the two.

Bill Peet is an author…one I highly recommend. He is a wonderful writer/illustrator who worked for Disney Studios for 27 years. Yet, this is not the reason I would urge you to check out his work; it’s because I love his books. He has wonderful stories which are easy to connect to, and lessons which can simply be taught through the medium of his tales.

In a word—his books are brilliant.

I recently assigned my class to create a mini-book based on the American Hero they selected a few weeks ago. I thought it would be nice for them to have an example which they could look at when it came time to make their own booklet. I started this project at 4:30 this afternoon and I just finished. Granted, I didn’t draw any of the illustrations, these came from his autobiography (which, by the way, is incredible). But it still took a while to put together.

So, for this post I thought I’d share a few screen captures of the mini-book I plan to share with my class tomorrow.

Just know…I know that this isn’t ‘amazing’ material, it’s more to simply share with you the great author which I have come to love.

Goodnight, bloggers.

P.S. I recommend starting off with Big Bad Bruce, Cyrus the Unsinkable Sea Serpent, Cowardly Clyde, Eli, & The Wingdingdilly should you choose to check him out.

Depths

Pin It I love that word.

So deep. So cavernous. So full of meaning.

Delving is also a word I find captivating.

So, what do these words have to do with tonight’s blog post?

To surmise, I have decided to take part in the ‘six files in and six photos down’ thing which currently seems to be sweeping the Blogger scene. I will be honest, I feel much better about something of this nature rather than the ‘tagged’ epidemic, which seems to happen quite too often.

Six down.

Depths.

And so I share a photo on my external hard drive with the world. However, it would not do to share a photo and not explain just why it is important because, to the untrained eye, it is simply a hallway.


To the learned observer, it is the story of a story—in the making.

And so I expound…

A score of years ago I had an idea for a book. This was during the time I was working at the Newport Cinemas. When an idea could come, I would write on paper towels, old movie schedules, and just about anything I could lay my hands on. After all, I was going to be a great writer, and would need to keep all of these ideas for future award-winning novels.

This particular idea was about a boy with a brother who never talked. He’d talked a few years before, but then something happened which caused him to stop.

I had nearly the whole story worked out, and had even started to write it when everything came to a grinding halt. The story wasn’t going anywhere, and it soon came to rest in a box I have…it’s a medium-sized box. It’s white. It’s filled with page after page of notes, unfinished stories, and ideas. They’re all in that box…a lifetime of ideas which have filled my head since I was 12 or 13 years old.

In that box it sat.

And sat.

And sat.

The years trudged on, and the little story was all but forgotten, lost amongst the remnants of narrative accounts, vague characters, and remitted thought.

It was several years later that I stumbled again across that box.

I removed the lid and peered inside, seeing all of these literary treasures which many others would undoubtedly label as trash. As I pulled out napkins and scratch paper, the ideas which had percolated in my brain years before came rushing back to me like a burst of summer wind.

The story, “My Brother, the Mystic” emerged from the box…all the tattered pieces.

As I read over what I’d written years before, I found myself laughing at my writing style. So many characters dealing with the issues of growing up and life…in a way it was pathetic.

Yet as I made to toss the manuscript back into the box, the idea simmered once again, like steam rising from a mug of coffee. In this manuscript there was a story yet to be told, to be written.

I turned on my computer and, looking at my old notes, I began to write.

However, there was a problem. How could I send a character off to a new life at a new school across the United States where I myself had never been?

I couldn’t.

It wasn’t long afterward that I planned a trip to Jefferson City, Missouri and decided to do a little ‘field research’ for my story.

I found South Elementary School which had a specialized deaf unit. It was from here that I began to scour the neighborhoods to find Kevin’s ‘home.’ I talked with a group in charge of a particular neighborhood where immigrants had come to the area. It was a perfect setting. I soon found the house in which the main character lived, and explored every nook and cranny, writing copious notes from which I could write my story later.

I learned about the butler’s staircase and about transoms. I learned about the molding framing the rooms, and the vaulted ceilings. There used to be a tree in the backyard. It had long-since been cut down; however, in my story, it would live yet again.

Across the road was the battered, old elementary school. Now housing contracting offices and other businesses. It looked like a prison.

This would also be in the story.

The notes and photographs took up pages and pages. I explored where Kevin would go to be alone, the cemetery next to his elementary school, and soda fountain where he’d go on a special outing.

All of these notes would be carefully used for writing my final masterpiece.









And so it is now later. The story, practically nothing like it was so many years ago, sits on a hard drive. It is currently waiting for me on chapter 6. That’s as far as I got out of the 11 planned chapters. Each of the sections is carefully planned, but still unwritten.

Yet it sits, in the depths of my hard drive…waiting for me.

It is not six files down…but farther, nestled in a cluster of microchips and sophisticated microcircuitry.

So this is the photo of which I share; the hallway of Kevin’s school. A school where he finds himself questioning the love of his parents, the concern of a teacher, and most terribly, the love he has for a brother who has caused him to be uprooted from the life he once knew.

For you who’ve read this far and have not gone away just yet, I share with you the ‘blurb’ which I had planned to garnish the back cover:


As I sat on the bench I pushed away Ryan’s hand as he tapped me, trying to get my attention. I instead turned away and tried to ignore him, but the more that I tried the harder he tried, too. Finally, I blew out a breath and stared at him. “What do you want?” I demanded, as though saying the words would do any good.

Ryan told me he was thirsty and pointed at a drinking fountain across the park. “Fine,” I motioned for him to go.

Ryan grinned that silly grin of his and ran across the park, detouring from his path long enough to chase a few seagulls picking through an old Wendy’s bag someone had left on the ground. The birds took to flight and Ryan paused to watch them for a minute before continuing on to get his drink.

Watching Ryan run through the park he seemed no different than any other six year-old. He got mad when I took his things or wouldn’t pay attention to him, he liked watching cartoons and would laugh when the characters would do funny things, like get smashed into a wall and then look like their body were an accordion. He hated brussel sprouts and hated to take a bath as well.

Ryan finished his drink and wiped away the water which had run down his chin. He began to run back to me with his arms outstretched like he was flying. As he neared me I stood from the bench and signed to him that it was time to go home. Ryan nodded and then tried to take my hand—I shook his hand away and thrust my hands in my pockets so I wouldn’t have to talk to him or hold his hand either. You see, Ryan, was deaf.

Somebody Loves You, Mr. Z

Pin It Rewind to 2:48 yesterday...

School had ended a few minutes before, and my students were bustling out the door in a flurry of backpacks and winter coats. Calls echoed through the hallways from friends, making plans for surreptitious rendezvous and the tell-tale sounds of laughter.

Another day of school had been chalked down as complete. It was time to go home.

As I sat, feeling my headache pulsing inside my skull, I watched my students depart. One boy, whom I’ll call, “Joey” approached me as I watched them all go.

“Mr. Z?”

I looked up at him and smiled. “What’s up, Joey?”

He stepped a little closer and spoke quietly. “I have basketball practice today, and I was wondering if you’d do me a favor.”

“Fire away.”

“Well, I was wondering if you’d come down and take pictures of me practicing.”

I shook my head. What kind of presumption was this? I mean, I had taken my camera to my students’ games before, and snapped a few shots as they played…if any turned out I’d pass them along to the kids’ parents, but this was the first time that I’d actually had a student request that I come and specifically take photos of him.

I was at a loss for words.

After all, what does one say to something like this?

On the one hand, you’d like to say, “Sure, you’re a fine little athlete, and it’s great that you’d like some snapshots of your playing. I’d be honored to come down and take them for you.”

While another part of you wants to say, “Look here, mister. Just who do you think you are? Don’t you think it’s a bit prideful and presumptuous to just ask me to take photos of you?”

Instead of answering, I tried to deflect.

“When’s your next practice, maybe I could come then.”

Joey’s brown eyes bored into mine. “No, Mr. Z. It has to be today. You have to be there…this is IMPORTANT.”

I gazed back at him. “Is it really that important to you?”

“Yes, more than you know.”

I stood.

“Okay, I’ll come. Let me get my camera.”

“You don’t need your camera, Mr. Z, just come watch me practice, okay?”

“But I thought you…”

“I changed my mind. I just want you there.”

He grabbed my arm and began to steer me into the hallway. He took a sharp left and as we exited the doorway I noticed about half of my class ‘peeking’ around the corners down the hallway. As we got a few steps closer they all leapt out (as well as possible) with a chorus of “Surprise, Mr. Z! We love YOU!”

Joey pulled me to our hallway bulletin board where each of the kids had taken a construction-paper heart, and had written a message on it.

They all began to point to their hearts. I wrote this one! This one’s mine!

By now the hallway was nearly empty, and buses would be leaving any minute. “Guys, thanks, but you’re going to miss your buses. Get going!”

Before they left, I was mauled in three waves of group hugs. Mostly because not everyone could get close enough in just one.

As they left I stood for another moment or two at the bulletin board, looking at the visual representations of my students’ love.


I love them, too.

A Return to Christmas

Pin It Do you have a favorite book you like to read at Christmas time? Mine used to be The Greatest Christmas Pageant Ever by Barbara Robinson, but a score of years ago I discovered another book which has become my seasonal favorite—and it has remained number one since that time. In fact, it’s up there with my top 10 all-time favorite books as well.

Every Christmas I faithfully read this book to my students; they in turn come to love the story too.

The name of the book? A Return to Christmas by Chris Heimerdinger.

What I probably love most about the book is how Chris is able to hook you with a wonderful storyline, and you find yourself dying to know how it can possibly pan out—but trust me, it does.

Read it.

You won't regret it, I promise.

By the way, I found that you can read the first chapter online HERE, plus a the first page of chapter two. That is, if you’re interested.

Choose Your Own Adventure…but please choose wisely.

Pin It Every month on my class website, I have what I call the thought of the month. I usually try to write this for my students and have it relate to something they can understand and with which they are familiar.

My class currently has discovered the love I once shared for a series of books which gave me the power to decide what would happen. I share the 'thought of the month' with you now...

When I was in sixth grade I discovered a set of fantastic books…in fact, I can still remember standing at the school library trying to get my hands on one, any one. Often, there were very few copies available because they were so much fun to read. You probably know what books I’m talking about…it’s the “Choose Your Own Adventure books.” Many of those from my generation have fond memories of these wonderful stories that didn’t simply take you on a journey of a character, but allowed you to be a part of the story and make many choices along the way.

I recall a short note in the beginning of each book that said something like this: “Warning, do not read this book straight through from beginning to end, when you are offered a choice, choose which one you would like to make….the outcome of the story depends a lot on the choices you make.”

Some of those choices were presented like this: “If you choose to travel up the stairs, turn to page 20. If you would rather walk down the hallway, turn to page 63.” I remember that every now and then when I made a choice I was led to a page where there would be an illustration that helped me to predict what was going to happen before I even read the text …you know, that I died or that I didn’t find the treasure in the old house. I had friends during this time which would sometimes offer me advice, since many of these kids had read the book before me, they could tell me the good choices to make in the story. Often, when I would follow their advice, I did much better in the story and would usually avoid breaking my leg or dying.

As I’ve gotten older, I have come to realize that our lives are an awful lot like those books I loved growing up…like these stories, it is the choices we make each day that bring about the consequences of our actions; additionally it is our choices which help to decide just what choices will be offered to us in the future as well. The really scary thing is that the “Choose Your Own Adventure book,” the one you are currently “living,” even as you sit here reading these words, doesn’t have only one choice every few pages, but several choices—hundreds of choices each day and these choices determine where our lives—where our story will lead. We decide the ending by the decisions we make…not only this, but it is each of us who determine just who and what we will become by these choices.

Sound a little scary thinking of life this way? Well, it shouldn’t be because life has friends, just like the ones I’d had when I was growing up. These friends have already read a little farther in the stories and know what many of the outcomes are…do you know who these people are? Yep, you got it…the adults in your life like your parents and teachers. “Whoa there!” I can almost hear you say, “You mean to tell me that the adults around me know something?” This may be hard to believe, but they really do!

Though you may not believe it now, your parents have experienced many of the same things that you have and are a little farther along in their Choose Your Own Adventure book; they have a lot of good advice to give you and are there to help you make those choices but only if you listen. However, how often do you choose to listen to the adults in your life? I mean really listen? Often, it all goes in one ear and out the other…sounding an awful lot like all the adults in the Charlie Brown cartoons…”Wah wah wa wah wah wah waaaahhhh.”

A few years ago I came across a really big choice in my own Choose Your Own Adventure story, one which I wasn’t sure what choice to make. This was a time that I turned to my dad. I asked him what I should do and I then listened to the advice he gave. Now, I don’t know what would have happened had I not followed his advice, but I do know what happened because I did. I am glad that I chose to listen to the wisdom of someone who has lived a little longer than me, who cares about what happens in my life, and is doing everything he can to ensure that my “story” is a little bit easier than his was.

One of the saddest things I encounter as a teacher is when I have a student who is making choices which are inevitably going to lead them into a harder life, I try to help these students understand this and many times they still don’t listen. It is frustrating to sit on the sidelines and try to coach a player who won’t try to run any of the plays but insists on standing out on the field doing nothing while the rest of the team moves all around him.

Now, what options have been opened up before you in your own story? What choices are offered to you each day? Do they include choosing to use kind or mean words to a family member? Is it between finishing your homework and playing video games? Perhaps it is between finishing your chores and running outside to play with your friends. The point is, we all are faced with a many choices each day, and things competing for our time and attention.

I do wish to point out though, that as you choose your adventures, remember that we are all works in progress, we’re all in different chapters of development and none of us is perfect. I have a feeling that some of us look at ourselves and see nothing but hard slabs of stone. We think we’re worthless perhaps because of a few poor choices we’ve made or letting others’ words affect how we see ourselves. When these thoughts come to you remember this story about Michelangelo: One day he was asked how he was able to sculpt and create such beautiful pieces of art with only blank slab of marble. To this question he replied, “I saw an angel in the stone and carved to set it free.”

Never forget, you are taking part in a story where you are the star with many possible endings, make the choices that will make you a better person as you turn the pages. Choose the options that will open up a limitless amount of new choices, not those which only lead to dead-ends. As the Choose Your Own Adventure books often say, “These pages contain many different adventures that may befall you…as you read along, you will be able to make choices, and the adventures you will have will be the results of those choices. Think carefully before you make a choice…”

Writing update - The book…

Pin It Well, I have realized that I still have a long way to go with my story before I allow this thing to traverse into the halls of publication.

This realization came when I started to read it aloud to my class the other day. Whoa…does this story NOT flow well when read aloud! It amazes me just how much I tried to “bring the reader” into the story through detail, and this actually bogged down the flow of the thing altogether.

So, what does this mean? Well, for starters it entails a major rewrite of the story, and the cutting out of a lot of unneeded text. Nip here, tuck there, flesh it out a little in a few spots as well.

Final prognosis? The patient is doing well, but is in for some serious rehab…

Let it rain

Pin It My head is full of reflections tonight; these tumble about in my head like the crystalline rushing of a mountain stream over a bed of smoothly-worn stones of thought.

I’ve come to realize just that life is much too short to live in apprehension, cowering with the fear of rejection, and listening to the whining of that little incessant voice in the back of our minds which whispers, “You just can’t do it.”

Who’s to stop me?

Probably just me, after all, I’ve done it numerous times before. I’m good at it too…too good to be exact.

The waters rush on as I stare at my computer screen tonight. As I do, I realize that there will be so much more to consider in the waters, what with the oncoming of the rain in the distant mountains.

Luckily, I do have an umbrella.

Let it rain.

Writing update - Alone in a room

Pin It I came to the Orem library to work.

I came here to find a few new books on CD which I could listen to while driving during the week.

I also came to write on a few of my stories.

I looked again at the self-publication website and contemplated further what I’d only briefly considered last night.

As I sat here in the “book discussion” room, I found myself alone and removed from the rest of the world for nearly three hours. Three blissful hours of time in which to work…

No distractions.

No bothersome calls

Nobody trying to talk to me.

Writer’s block?

Yes.

Writing update - Me? A published author?

Pin It

I returned home from an evening out with some dear friends.

I checked my blog.

I had a few comments, which I proceeded to read. Nestled amongst them was a remark from my sister, Miya. She left me a link to a self-publisher known as Outskirts Press.

I thought about it…

I thought long and hard about submitting…something.

I just don’t know about this though. I did a little figuring and discovered that my book, “Take the Long Way Home,” would be in the vicinity of 129 pages if published as a 8.5” x 5.5” book…which would run about $5.00 in cost for each copy printed, plus the cost of set-up, barcode fees, as well as about a thousand other “small” charges which—amazingly—drives up the cost by $1,000.

Though it would be grand to have one of my books published, going this route could very well turn out to be a pretty expensive endeavor.

I guess I don’t know if it is really good enough to be published…or worth this cost. The story was written awhile ago, and probably still needs a million things fixed/added/changed…

I just don’t know…

I need to write

Pin It

I went out with a friend tonight.

She and I hadn’t talked for about a year.

She’s writing a book.

How come I’m not writing a book?

I blog.

I’m writing though, right?

But why not a book?

It’s because I’m lazy.

I need to manage my time better.

Will the book write itself?

Probably not.

I need to write.