We spent time in Sun Valley last week. The Lodge and Inn are surrounded by quaint shops, cozy eateries, candy store w/handmade chocolates, and a small pond full of ducks, birds and one big white swan. A beautiful swan. There may have been more than one. But I only saw one. She floated in the middle of the pond like a beautiful white queen.

They also have an outdoor iceskating rink. My son learned how to iceskate for the first time. It was truly lovely. He made new friends, who held his hand, kept him from falling on the ice.

But there was something else I saw. A letter, framed and hanging along a string of old pictures of famous Hollywood actors who had patroned the Lodge over the years. The last letter written by Ernest Hemingway was among them. He signed it “Papa.” It was really neat to see.

Sun Valley is a beautiful place to write and be inspired.

We had an old piano from the early 1900’s. It was Auntie Margarets’ piano. Nobody in the family can play. We tinkered on it. That was about it. But one day I played with a few notes and wrote a song, a lullaby.

Here are the words:

Close your eyes.
Stay by your dreams.
Find and you’ll see.
No need to be afraid.

Moombeams dance
while we trail with
the stars.
To a fanciful place
that never seems far.

So hush all your tears.
Never to fear.
For I’ll always be near,
till the morn-in.

…The last chord on the piano is a C note. DING!

HAVE A SWEET DREAMY DAY EVERYBODY…

It’s Saturday night. And I am TIRED. But it’s done. Grosset & Dunlap made suggestions to improve my manuscript. The SCBWI Publication Guide said to write a thank you letter. And the truth is … the revisions were exactly what the story needed. I AM thankful.

Now the thank you letter is on its way to New York. Working day and night on the revisions, I pushed myself to write a better story. I wrote a new introductory chapter and new concluding chapter and re-edited the middle accordingly. This whole thing has been a new experience for me. But it’s done something else.

I did exactly what they suggested I do. And so much more. But what if after all this, they reject it? They say it’s not good enough, marketable enough, smart or clean enough? How awful would that be?

I’m willing to do more revisions. Really, I need to get a grip. It’s Saturday night. I just wrote 3000 words in two days. Yes. It’s Saturday night and what am I doing?

Still writing.

I have this blog about rejection letters. Everyday the postbox brings cards, bills, letters, junk mail and I wait. But wait. Yesterday everything went topsy turvy. I got an SASE returned to me from Grosset & Dunlap, an imprint of Penguin Young Readers in New York. So I joked, “Hey another rejection to write about on my blog!”

I pulled into the garage and sat in the drivers’ seat for a minute. Opening the envelope I see that the letter is personal. Oh good another personal rejection! It’s better than the dreaded form letter. EEEEK!

But wait. No. It’s not just a personal rejection letter. It’s longer, has more type printed on it. Why, there’s editorial feedback for my manuscript. The editorial intern has detailed suggestions on how the characters, storyline can be improved. WHAT? No way. I was flabbergasted!

This means something according to the SCBWI Publication Guide. I hope this to be the beginning of my move out of the shadows…this is the next step. I’ll tell more tomorrow.

Years ago, my friends’ sister had a baby. I wrote a poem. Here’s a rewrite of it:

A handsome young man, so very fine.
Sat on a rock by a creek bed one time.
Took a deep breath of air, clean and new.
Listened to birds sing their song in the dew.

A stranger walked a pathway of stone.
Heard in the distance, just down the road
the young man’s chorus with birds in the trees.
Changed directions down toward the creek.

The young man and stranger met on that day.
Stranger asked, “Where are you from? Where do you stay?”
Young man replied, “I come from long in the past.
I stay in my home, down this stone path.”

Stranger replied, “That was my world too, you see.
A few thousand years before you came to be.
I lived during a time of great conquest indeed.
A soilder, a poet, a musician and even a KING.”

“My name is David,” he said.
Young man was speechless instead,
instead of saying what he wanted to say,
how lovely to meet Prince David this way.

Soon they spoke as old friends.
Young man accepted an invitation from him.
To a musical symphony right around the bend.
“Be sure that your whole family does attend.”

A paradise story, soon to be true.
Though … who is the YOUNG MAN?

Could it be YOU?

I am happy to see the Jan/Feb issue of the SCBWI Bulletin. My nonfiction article, “Charlie and the Symphony” is mentioned in the PEOPLE section. It’s just a blurb. But a blurb is better than nothing.

I had dinner last night with grandpa Charlie. He’s 81 years old and remembers fondly his sweet music teacher, Miss Gallup. It was 1937. Every year Miss Gallup planned an outing at the Fairpark Music Hall in Dallas. The symphony cost 25 cents plus an extra 3 cents to ride the street car. That was a whole 28 cents! How could he ask his mother for such a dear sum of money?

I entered his story in the SCBWI Magazine Merit Award contest. It would be a great honor for grandpa Charlie ( and me), if we won. But … there are many good stories out there. I’m just happy FUN FOR KIDZ publisher Marilyn Edwards placed our story in her children’s magazine. If it won an award … wow!

Again, we wait and see. Just like everything else.