Writing in the Copy Room Moms and Other Parental Figures Who Write While Making Copies at the Kids’ School

by Hilde Garcia 

8:00 am, Thursday, Franklin Elementary.

Kids dropped off and I pop into the copy room to make quick class set of copies for my next lesson. Instead I walk into a party of moms.

“SO, I need three sets of 25.”

“Can you get that report to me before the PTA meeting?” Another mom says.

“I can volunteer tomorrow at lunch if you need me.” 

I think that was aimed at me since I coordinate groom reps.

“Did you finish checking the translation I emailed you last night?” I say as I put the stack of paper on the counter.

“Copies are ready, who needs the machine?” My friend Judy bellows from behind the copy machine.

“I need coffee… anyone want to make a Starbucks coffee?  I’m buying.” That mom just became a saint.

Cash flies out of purses and backpacks faster than the copies spit out of the copy machine.  Orders are given, and the brave mom who volunteered to do a coffee run disappears. Finally, mojo in hand, we all settle into a nice work rhythm as we finish the copies, laminating, paper cutting and sorting of the endless administrative and educational duties teachers have these days.

“Hey, what’s that?”  Another mom named Maggy notices in my pile.

“Oh, those are pages I’m workin’ on for my critique group tonight.”

“Get outta here.  You’re a writer?  How cool!  Me too.”

Of all the copy joints in town, she had to walk into mine.  “No kidding.  What do you write?” 

“Picture books.  And you?”

“YA.” 

10:00 am. It’s still Thursday.

The copies are done and the coffee is gone.  I’m not a coffee person, so I down three mini Kit Kats, two Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, and bag of M & M’s - my choice of poison.

The morning flies by with copies and conversation, writing tips and how to start your own critique group.  We discuss professional organizations like SCBWI and how to network.

What really surprises me is how many of these Writer Moms in Disguise (and Dads), I found in that copy room.

April 2011.

A cool mom named Denise and I figured out we both wrote young adult.  Our kids were already fast friends in Kinder and it seemed Denise, and I were on that same path.  We ended up attending the LA Writer’s Day. And when in line at school to pick up our kids, we also met John, a dad in our class who wrote a bilingual picture book, which will soon hit the shelves.  He joined my critique group and I at the SCBWI summer conference.

October, 2011.

I met Maggy in the copy room and we talked of how to start a critique group. We had a mutual admiration for each other as we counted out sets of 25 copies for each of the 20 classrooms at our school.

But what really surprised me was my encounter at a flag football game this past fall.  A mom said, “I know you!  You were at the LA summer conference this year. I recognized your name on the team’s roster.”  Now, there were 1300 people at that conference, so it was impressive that she remembered me.  I felt a bit famous.  The mom, Rosalind, and I then attended a Writer 2 Writer event at the Flintridge Bookstore on Poetry the very next month. 

Networking never ceases to amaze me.

January, 2012.

Clearly between the dishes and the diapers and the endless laundry and practices we take our kids to, we moms do write (and dad’s too).

It might take longer than usual to get a final draft and require several printings to ensure that there aren’t food traces on the draft paper, but we eventually do it and submit it and get published.  I think in today’s world of under supported education where parents have to fundraise, make copies, and volunteer like paid professionals in their kids’ school, it’s a miracle parents get any writing done at all. 

When my kids were infants, I longed for the day they would go to school so I could have “me time”.  Well, it turned into “I need to do this for them time.”  “Me time” is whenever and however I can get it.

My friends in the copy room reaffirmed my desire to write, gave me positive encouragement that I can do it, and often took the stack of copies off of my hands so I could go and hide in the book room to write.

I return the favor, or at least provide endless coffee and chocolate and my experience as a writer mom.

Today, 2012.

I walk into the copy room like any other usual Thursday morning and the same old crew is there, working busily at smashing crayons, laminating words or cutting out shapes.  I plop down my copies and we all pick up where we had left off the last time.  But today, the conversation wasn't about writing, it was about sex.

But that’s a whole other blog post!

The Writer’s Brain

by Kris Kahrs

We here at the Unemployed Writer’s Guild recently moved our offices. During the dusty debacle, we discovered unknown evidence on the inner workings of the writer’s brain. The Guild members were amazed and shocked to learn that we had been sitting on top of major scientific evidence all this time! 

You’ll see from the provided image that the schematic appears to be from the early part of the nineteenth century (er, except for the picture of the computer). Hmmmm…apparently writers have always had some sort of unholy alliance with creatures of the feline persuasion. What is this sinister hold they have over us?

Guild members immediately submitted the amazing find to the Institute of Amazing Finds who had this to say:

“Yeah, right.”

This intrepid writer offered her own brain up for investigative research to the Institute, but a spokesperson politely declined saying they were full up on writers’ brains at this point in time and “why don’t I just go and get a real job, for the love of Mike”?

There you have it folks. The Unemployed Writer’s Guild will continue to keep you updated and informed on all hard hitting news in the area of writing as it happens -- right here on The Pen and Ink Blog.

What Next?

Victoria Horse Riding

by Hilde Garcia

“Ok, now Mommy’s going to write and you two watch your movie.” I quickly shut the kids’ door and breathe. Finally, after 6 months of going crazy, I get a moment to myself. Of course, there’s always laundry and dishes to do, those are a constant I have found, but there were also practices, lessons to attend, lesson plans to draft, homework to review, chapters to read and yes, tons and tons of emails, to which I have yet to reply.

My life does not support a writing habit. I often find myself writing on a napkin so that an idea won’t escape my head. My forties and sleep deprivation have taken their toll. Truly, on most days, writing only happens in my mind.

A couple of days ago, I watched a video of my twins when they were two. I was mesmerized at what my life was like then. It was calm and quiet, well, as much as it could be with twins. I had time in the afternoon while they napped to organize my scrapbooks, return calls and emails, even attend an audition or two and make dinner. I wore make-up in those days, had date night with my husband, and didn’t look as frazzled as I do today. The old video consisted of my kids eating their snack and me trying to get them to say words like milk, cheese and yogurt for the camera. We didn’t have our dog then, so no extra work in cleaning up spilled garbage cans or chasing him down the street. No, that video was serene and beautiful, worthy of a Norman Rockwell painting.

Sam at Soccer Camp

Those were nice quiet years until the Presidency of my kids’ preschool became my life and the PTA chased me down, before I returned to work as a teacher and had to enroll in a credentialing program- I have more homework than anyone in my household. Today, my active first graders thrive on sports, after school activities, and excel in school. They have busy social calendars with parties and play dates. They even create books of their own. I envy them. I cook and clean, and they write. I’m counting the days when they’re old enough to do many of these chores themselves.

But despite this level of crazy, I finished my YA manuscript and sent it off to an editor back in November. Then I sat and thought, “I guess I’m done writing. What else should I do?”

Daughter/Daddy Day

Maybe I should check into our blog. Maybe I should dust off that old picture book that hasn’t been revised in years and see if now is the right time. Maybe I should write another book. Nah, I don’t have time because of course life takes hold of me. There’s always something that needs doing or someone that needs help or a cat in the tree I have to rescue or a boo boo to heal. And yet, here is some time that has just opened up in my life and I just sit. There’s always an excuse to keep me from writing it seems.

Excuses

Crazy Hair Day

by Hilde Garcia

I have been busy for months and have not a written. What am I waiting for? An invitation? “Hey lady, I liked your first story, write another!” Or maybe my manuscript will be a one hit wonder- my one true novel- and I will never finish anything else. I think that’s bologna. You want to know the truth? 

I’m scared. 

I’m scared that this is all I’ve got, that I don’t have any other ideas. I thought about writing something about the WW II era, but guess what, everyone’s been there, done a million times over, so what would be special about mine? “Nothing,” I tell myself, so I don’t write. “Let me go and wash some dishes.” 

Hey, what about teens who are falling apart and contemplating suicide? I think. Nah, Jay Asher knocked that one out of the park, so how could I do it better? “Well, let me go and grade 170 school papers instead.” 

T-Ball

“SO, uh, Hilde, you ever plan on writing a blog post again?” My critique group chimes in unison, no surprise there.

“In December, promise. Three posts by the 26th.” Well, my house company didn’t leave all month, the kids had their birthday party, and Hanukah ruled for eight days, and then I got terrible news on the 26th. See, I can’t catch a break it seems. So, no writing.

Happy New Year! Here we are. Finally, this morning, I find at bottom of my desk a piece of paper with five ideas for blog posts. I had written them in November and promised my group I would complete them in December. I really want to sit down and write, but I couldn’t because the kids had to go to the dentist. Yep, I should have taken the kids in October, but remember, my life was crazy, so thank goodness, they had no cavities.

But today is the day. Carpe Diem. I get home, unloaded groceries, feed kids, plop them in front of a movie like everybody else does, and tell them not to talk to me, even if the movie is over. Dinner and bedtime are early today. Group is coming over and I aim to have me a post.

Fear. It kills you cold. I didn’t start another project because I wanted an editor, The Editor, to tell me, “Your novel rocks, it’s amazing, let’s get to work.” If I have time to watch TV, I have time to write. If I have time to go on Facebook, I have time to write. Well, in my defense, I haven’t posted on Facebook since August 2011.

“Mommy, the movie is over,” my daughter says.

“GO play, I’m busy.” I keep typing, ignoring my monkey.

“It’s dark outside,” says my son.

Fielding the Ball

“So stay inside then.” If I don’t look up they will go away. Now back to my blog rant.

And for those of you that know me… I’m not silent, by any measure, but no one has heard from me, not even a peep on my group’s blog. That’s pretty lousy. But seriously, I would read Going Bovine or Flygirl and then think, “Forget it; I have nothing to add that’s better.”

I think a change is in order.

“Mommy, the garage door is open.”

“Not my problem.”

“DO we feed Buddy?”

“YES. You do every day twice a day. I don’t need to be involved in that process. This is MY quiet time. Go entertain yourselves.” I shut the door of my den and sit at the computer. Movies need to be three hours long for the twelve and under crowd.

I dust off some old picture books that have collected cobwebs in my drawer. I decide I’m going to post often, at least once or twice a month, on our blog. I’m not waiting by the phone for The Big Call. I never used to when I was an actor, so why am I waiting now?

Sam Punts

I know, it makes no sense, but now you know why the most talkative person in our group has been the least vocal when it comes to posting on line. You’d think I would have been all over the site chiming in to every conversation.

My advice to myself: Don’t let fear or preconceptions make me feel like I don’t have a new twist on an old tale. I am not the editor (nor agent), someone else is. My job is to write, write it all down, and whatever comes out is good. Who am I to assume it won’t be good? Well, alright, it will be good, once I revise.

My promise to myself: To write every day for thirty minutes. I plan to have a post on our Pen N. InkBlog Facebook site so you all can see if I’m writing. If not, someone kick me, please. I can email you my address or you can poke me on FB, nothing like a virtual slap to get the creative juices going. I’m going to find my quiet thirty minutes every day to write or breathe deeply, which will lead to writing because I’m out of excuses.

Like our Blog T-Shirts say: “Stay the F**k and Write!”

How to Navigate a Writer Social Party

The Wellesbourne

by Lupe Fernandez

As a solitary writer, I seldom get out for social occasions. However, the nature of the business requires certain face-to-face interactions with fellow writers, illustrators and other publication persons of note. Therefore I devised a strategy in how to behave in such an uncontrolled environment. I’d like to share some of my plans in hopes that you, dear reader and fellow shy person, may benefit and derive inspiration.

As a case history, I will use the Kid Lit Event from last December 2011, held at The Wellesbourne, a fine drinking establishment. 

Timeline: 

6:01 pm – Enter doors

• Variation A – Stand on table and scream, “I’m here! Let the party start!
• Variation B – Cry in the corner until someone notices.
• Variation C – Assume a wounded artist demeanor and ignore everyone

 6:15 pm – Unload books for donation

Map of  Social Navigation

6:30 pm – Sample snacks
6:40 pm – Approach someone I recognize from Westside Schmooze and converse
6:58 pm – Find Lovely Lady and start up conversation

• Variation A – “Hey baby, do you want to see my conjunction functions?”
• Variation B – “I’m doing this for the children.”
• Variation C – Remain silent after Lovely Lady slaps my face. 

7:02 pm – Pretend not to be offended when Hot Chick escapes under pretext of getting a drink. 

7:23 pm – Approach Attractive Illustrators at the bar and show my sample calling-card.

• Variation A – “Are you ladies all fashion models?”
• Variation B – “I studied in the Stick-Figure school of thought.”
• Variation C – “Married? My compliments to your absent husband.”

7:24 pm – Pretend to enjoy their laughter at my crude attempts at illustration.

7:30 pm – Check watch to make sure I have not surpassed 3 hour free parking limit.
7:44 pm – Retreat to snack table and eat cookies.
7:56 pm – Wander through rooms on pretending to look for someone.
8:01 pm – See tall blonde with phrase “Dangling Participle” on her red sweater and comment without sounding lewd and lascivious.

8:12 pm – Approach bar and ask about drink cost. 

• Variation A – Buy drinks for all the cute illustrators at the bar. 
• Variation B - Pass out my card and collect phone numbers.
• Variation C – Retreat from bar, not wanted to shell out $10 bucks for tiny drink.

8:15 pm - Wander through rooms on pretending to look for someone.
8:24 pm – Discuss the creative financial struggle with experienced Schmooze regular.

8:43 pm - Check watch to make sure I have not surpassed 3 hour free parking limit.
8:46 pm – Leave establishment so as not to pay for parking.

After Party

Go here for a more accurate version of the Kid Lit Holiday Party! 2011

How Not to Write on Vacation

by Hilde Garcia

Easier said than done.  I had wanted to write about many things such as lofty ideas and writing styles, or how to speak to your agent while revising your novel.  On our family’s first road trip, I’m thrilled at the prospect of traveling the country via car and posting prophetic thoughts.  I also planned to finish the next draft of my manuscript to send to my agent.

Everything went wrong outside the Holland Tunnel in New Jersey.

First of all, beware of snacks your kids are fed by well meaning grandparents and friends of the family while on vacation.  Mixed with milk, it makes for a nasty combination.

“Hey kids, look there is the line that divides New York and New Jersey underwater.”

“Oooh,” kids chime.

“Mommy can I have some milk?”

“Sure,” I say.  It’s the first hour of our roadtrip and all is well.  We’ve had a great week with the grandparents who served as amazing tour guides.  New York City survived our motley crew.  I’ve opened up my laptop and I’m ready to write.

“Look, kids, we are in New Jersey,” says Daddy.  We take the sign that says 1-78.

“Mommy, I don’t feel good,” says my son.

Before I have a chance to turn around, I hear the oh so familiar sound of vomit being projected all over the back seat, his clothing and the new and nicely packed car activities.

“Crap!”  Yep, I said it in three languages.  I yelled at my son.  I swear to the moon.  I am pissed and thankful that my computer didn’t get slimed.  My husband is mad at my swearing and because I yelled at our kid.

Then I remember throwing up in the same place, at the same age, many years ago when I lived in New Jersey.  It must be genetic.

“Oh, sorry, dear and sorry sweetie,” I say, close to tears from the smell and from being such a bad mom.  But I was looking forward to finally sit down and write after a fun filled week of madness.  Instead, it’s clean up on aisle six.

I call my in laws who are following us for this first leg of our journey and signal them to pull over to the most run down gas station I have ever seen somewhere off of Exit 14 in Jersey City. 

“Ok, battle stations.  Mom, you get Sam and hose him down in the bathroom.  Here are new clothes for him.” 

I ask my daughter to sit and color and not move as I open her window.  My husband grabs a hose and starts on the toys, art supplies and bottle caps.  My son had collected quite a few of them, compliments of the drink fest from my husband, his brother and their friends.  I break out the wet ones and begin disinfecting the car, the floor, the seats.  My husband is attacking the car seat cover within an inch of its life. 

After about 30 minutes, we are de slimed and ready to hit the road.  When my son says, “Can I have more milk?”  There is a resounding NO from 2 adults and his sister.  Before we get on the road, I secure all slimed clothing in a zip lock bag.  Yes, I am prepared and tell my son that the paper bag in front of him is not for his car, but in case he needs to hurl again.

“Hurl?”  My sons says.

Both my husband and I laugh.  I’m in no mood to write.  I’m trying to get over the smell and the clean up and there is no alcohol to help.

We spent the next day in Virginia Beach.  I meant to write that night too, but my best friend’s husband showed me the most exquisite collection of coins dating back to Alexander the Great and muskets from Revolutionary days and well there was no writing.

“So honey, aren’t you going to write?”  I’m in the car, counting mile markers on the way to Charlotte.  I consult an old road map- on purpose- no GPS for us on this trip.  We went old school and decided to just find our way without electronics.

“Sure,” I take out my laptop and set myself up in the front seat while the kids watch a movie.  But I shut my eyes against a nasty sun glare and the hours of no sleep finally catch up to me.  And well, there was more snoring than writing.

My husband nudges me awake.  “What about your self imposed deadline with your agent, dear,” he grins.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.  I’ll do it when we get to Charlotte.”  Right.  I wipe some drool.

But there are other obstacles in Charlotte, North Carolina which make it impossible to stay on task.  There was sushi to eat.  Cake to savor.  Wii to play.  Wine to sip.  No writing, yet again. 

The post ideas got out of my head, the keyboard does not entice me, but an entire bag of starburst did as we traveled to Tampa.  I’m sneaking them while the kids watched their movie.  I mean, what kind of a role model would I be if my kids see me eat candy for breakfast?

I played baseball trivia, set up the kids with their activities and movies, feed everyone, monitor pee breaks and consult a map.  No time to write.  I will do it in Tampa.

In Tampa, drinking ensues, visit old friends, many hours in the pool and it isn’ t advisable to write with a laptop near the water.  I do start a letter to a friend that has been three years over due.  Seriously, they live in England and don’t have internet, so I’m determined to get them that letter.  I only have twins, they have triplets.  Certainly, I should be able to write a measly letter?

We arrive in Miami and drink margaritas on the beach for a week. 

I return to sunny CA and unpack us, get us settled, get kids in camp, catch up on paperwork, emails, calls and all that jazz and two months later, finally have time to write a post about writing while on vacation.

I highly advise against writing on vacation.  It can be hazardous to your vacationing.  But, then again, throw up outside the Holland Tunnel makes for good Middle grade fodder, doesn’t it?  And, no, I haven’t finished the letter to my English friends.

Happy trails.  May your iPad always be safe.

And may you always find time to write.

The Chair

by Lupe Fernandez

When the day comes that I sit behind a table for an autograph session, I’d like to be prepared. Perhaps, I will not be as popular as the author next to me. Rather than look forlorn and dejected, I’ve come up with the optimal design that I call:

The AACD

Author Autograph Chair Deluxe #37020

The AACD

1. Mariska Hargitay Look-a-Like 

I’ll need all the sex appeal I can get.

2. Supply of Chocolate Chip Cookies 

Who can say no to cookies?

3. Holograph Image of Waiting Fans 

Image encourages real reader to get in line and think, “If this author has a long line, he must be good.”

4. Orchestra 

Adds class and smoothes the nerves.

5. Satellite Dish 
Don’t want to miss anything good on TV. 

6. Books 

100 year old tomes for a scholarly appearance.

7. Computer Screen 
Words randomly generated to create appearance that I’m working on my next literary masterpiece.

I, President

Campaign Headquarters

by Lupe Fernandez

I Hereby declare my candidacy for the office of President of the United States. 

My administration will support the Longer Recess, Better Cafeteria Food Initiative. 

If elected I promise to create new cabinet posts: The Department of Conferences, The Department of Critique Groups and The Department of Promotion. 

I will set our foreign policy to promote Children’s Literature across reading-loving countries. The Air Force will drop pictures books into anti-picture book countries. The Navy will sail the seven and a half seas – the melting North Pole counts as half a sea – and leave a book in every port. The Army and Marines will conduct house to house searches of book shelves to make sure they’re stock with the classics. 

Middle Grade Constituent

On the domestic front, my administration will create the No Book Left Behind program. No more remainders, orphans or out-of-print. 

My administration will raise the minimum wage for struggling writers so that they can achieve the Great American Dream – hiring a baby sitter to have time to finish the manuscript. 

The first act of my administration will be to open a Children’s Literature Library in the White House with a café serving milk and cookies, and a nap area. 

But I need your help with the campaign. A strong slogan is needed to communicate to America my narrative of the future.

Examples: 

Read My Book: No New Adjectives

Where’s The Plot?

It’s Page 1 in America

America’s Business is The Publishing Business

Tippecanoe and Illustrations, Too!

I Like Series.

Remember My First Book

Give Me a Cover I Like, or Give Me Death!

Whip Split Infinitives Now!

If you have any slogan suggestions, let us know. This is about you, the Children’s Writers of America.

Patriotic Cookie

This post was paid for by Imaginary Citizens for the Election of The Mexican-In-Residence.

Jobs Just In Case

by

Lupe Fernandez

In these troubled economic times, I’m often told to have a “back up plan” or “something to fall back on” in case my stalwart efforts at writing do not bear fruit, vegetables or publication. After considerable pondering and wandering, I’ve come up with a list of possible occupations that could support me while I wax poetically, type madly and revise ravenously.



Lion Tamer

I already have the hat.

Dead Fish Plucker

I can swim.   

Occupational Hazard Counselor

I’m clumsy with band saws, bench lathes and acetylene torches.

Horizontal Refreshment Consultant

I like to watch.

Doomsayer Associate

The best laid plans of mice and microbes often go astray.

Ice Cream Creative

My first job was working at Baskin & Robbins. Some ice creams are too dry, too milky, too flat or not my favorite flavor.

 

Literary Gatekeeper

I’ll read the book for you and tell you if you will like it.



Photo by L. Fernandez



GeoTransit Surrogate

Why go on a vacation and suffer through strip-searches, cancelled flights, lost luggage or political upheavals? I’ll take the trip for you.

Critique Group Analyst

Review your munchies, chairs, pets, children, location, colleagues, and pre-meeting discussions to improve group moral and maximize your critique time. (Example: Curtail discussions about wedding dresses, grandchildren, great grandchildren, wedding dresses, pre-school, post- school or vacations to places I haven’t visited.)

Chocolate Chip Cookie Quality Control

Not all CCC’s are baked equal.

Digital LCD Progressive Scan Interlace Mode Supervisor

I watch TV.

Photo by L. Fernandez

Unofficial Wedding Photographer

Utilize guerilla journalistic approach. No posing. Requires access to intimate settings. Will bring my own lunch.  



Brain Not to Scale

Positron-Emission Ventral Tegmental Researcher

Occupation classified.

These are just a few of my favorite things.

So many choices,

so little time.

Customer Support

by

Lupe Fernandez

What if writers had access to a customer support service? I imagine the choices would be as follows:

Creative Workspaces of The Not-So-Rich and Obscure

by Kris Kahrs

Inspired by Kyle Cassidy’s study, “Where I Write: Fantasy & Science Fiction Authors in their Creative Spaces” on BoingBoing, I, the 4th wheel here at Pen and Ink have decided to share the creative workspaces that inspire the Pen and Ink crew.

When writing, these spaces become the temples of our practice; the laptop, the wall where we offer our missive, hitting the ‘send’ key, waiting for the munificence of an indifferent being to show up in our inbox.

Sue Berger’s Den of Inspiration

At the computer in my bedroom. My son’s dog, Diego thinks it is his duty to watch me work.
 
Under my computer screen are little toys of Glenda the Good Witch, and a silver Pig. There is also a little gingerbread house.

On the wall in back of the computer are pictures of my family. On the bookshelf next to my computer are many Wizard of Oz Books, The Maida Books, The Anne of Green Gables books, the E. Nesbit books, and many other favorites. There are also Muppet Baby toys, Shrek toys and Cinderella toys and some miniature cupcakes. This is my granddaughter Grace’s favorite pretend place.

I have 4 large bookshelves in my room: One has Teddy bears on top. One has Dragons, frogs and a musical carousel on top. One has the grown up Muppets on top. The fourth one has pigs on top. Next to my door is a Giant purple dragon named Charlie.

Lupe Fernandez’s Pad of Prose

Death perches on flat screen. I'm not sleeping, but concentrating on the next scene. The folder on the right is full of revisions. The bags on the floor are camera cases with photos I need to upload onto Facebook for instant appreciation. The plastic container on the desk contains water to prevent LDS (Literary Dehydration Syndrome). I'm wearing a Los Angeles Conservancy hat to prevent my brains from exploding due to a volatile mixture of plot, doubt, character, syntax, doubt, continuity, metaphors, the brilliant idea for a story I just thought of and doubt.  

Hilde Garcia’s Corner of Composition

Hilde sent in a before shot……
I get inspired on my desk when I look at my Academy Award that says BEST... when I look at the screen saver on my desk of my husband and I on our honeymoon after I had ridden a bike around the bay in Monterey- after not having ridden on in 24 years.

…..and an after.

I get inspired when I look at my photos of Maui- where I long to go...  

I get inspired when I look out to my street and see a white picket fence... a beautiful 50 year old tree that shadows my home and the squirrels that run up and down it. I get inspired when the mail man passes by, my neighbors walk their dogs and my kids escape to run next door to see Uncle Allan.

 
I write my stories at this desk, I dream my dreams. I often fall asleep at this desk- see other photo previously posted.
 
I love it late at night or early in the morning when no one is awake... even the dog is snoring.
 

Kris Kahrs’ Table of Turbulence

This is not so much a “creative workspace” as it is a “flat surface that isn’t the floor”. This is my dining room table and when it’s not a holiday dinner, this is where it all happens folks. I did go in for the optional 20-1b. cat accessory for additional street cred.

(Have you been to a SCBWI Writer’s Day? Whew! Tough crowd.)

Anyway, the most inspirational things about my space are the sunset outside of the doors you see in the picture, the Hollywood sign and the Observatory because they are so iconic, and an Emerson quote kept posted on the magazine holder in front of me, “Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, drink the wild air…”

Time Management: Non-Writing Activities

by Lupe Fernandez

The demands on this writer's life are multiple.