Sheila's Guests and Reviews

The play's the thing, perhaps. Or maybe music's the thing. Or the beat, the rhythm, the lyrical style... the story, the story line? The speaker (Brian Doyle) at our local writers' group called us storycatchers. He said the story's the thing. The story's what brings reader and writer to a place without words. And the story chooses its own form--poem, list, memoir, essay, novel... Catch the story when you can. Write it without form or reason (or thought). Then edit or throw away. You can always throw something out, but you can only catch it when it's there. So the story's the thing, and the play, song, beat, rhythm, style are all subsidiary. Or else they're taking up too much space. Interesting... Anyway, there really is a play hid there among the books I read recently. And it's certainly a "thing." Find some coffee. Let's read! The Gap Of Time by Jeanette Winterson isn't a play, but it's a "cover" for Shakesp...

Today I'm delighted to welcome Crymsyn Hart back to my blog after a two-year gap. In August 2014 we met her R eaper (click to find the post), but today we'll meet the author herself, as the Reaper rides again. And this time Crymsyn is answering a question from this curious reader... How does a real psychic feed into writing about a fictional one?  Welcome Crymsyn   How does a real psychic feed into writing about a fictional one? What an excellent question. I never woke up and asked the gods to be a psychic. That just kinda happened on its own. I used to read professionally for a number of years while in college and a bit after. I still do it now and again if asked, but it’s not my main goal. Mostly for friends. Being psychic is like having a radio in your head on all day long. It just depends on how high you turn up the volume knob. I can never shut mine completely off. So I would say the volume in my head is down to a 2 or 3. If I get focused on something...

I like 14. When I was small, I wanted to be fourteen. Not ten or eleven - those weren't quite the teens. Not thirteen for all that it was my favorite number; it was still too young. But fourteen seemed just right. I wrote stories with fourteen-year-old protagonists saving the world. My fourteen-year-old alter-ego met with heroes real and fictional and discovered her unknown super-powers, like never getting tired, or breathing underwater, or imagining the world's greatest inventions. My fourteen-year-old protagonist had a team of followers, or flyers, or worked alone, lived with her family or hid in a magical cabin in the mountains, wore black (always black) and nobody told her not to, and had a dog or cat or both. I loved 14. Then I was 14. Then I was 15. Then 16. But fourteen was still my ideal age, and the age of all my protagonists. Maybe that's why my Hemlock stories have languished since Siobhan grew too old - or maybe I just ran out of time. Don't worry, my ma...

I didn't like picture books as a kid. Actually, as a very small child I didn't even like books, but then I learned to read. After that I loved anything with words - even bus tickets. But I couldn't fathom why people would fill that precious paper space in a story with pictures instead. Which is crazy since I loved to draw and paint. One day I graduated from picture books to chapter books. Some of the chapter books had pages of pictures as well, which annoyed me. But mostly they just had letters that seemed too big. Why couldn't I read books with tiny letters and more words, like my granddad did. Then Granddad stopped being able to go to the library. I took his card and borrowed his books for him. In return I got to read them. Hence my love for Lord Peter Wimsey and James Bond. And then I grew up, had kids, and learned to love picture books. (And I still love to draw and "paint" on the computer.) So, which did you prefer, books with or without pictures? A...

Today I'm delighted to welcome author Anne Zoet to my blog, and to offer my review of her picture picture book, Purrball meets Burrball in Brazil. If the title itself isn't enough to intrigue you, well ... read on and find out more. Review of Purrball Meets Burrball When Darryl’s family move to Brazil, it’s obvious that Darryl’s cat, Purrball, will come too, and so will readers, enjoying this book. Wise parents have Mom’s phone and charger on hand for the journey, so Darryl can play games. They provide welcome cat treats to keep Purrball content. But neither Purrball nor Darryl can keep smiling when the world rocks and sways. An earthquake is not what anyone expected, and the startled cat runs away. Thus begins Anne Zoet’s Purrball Meets Burrball in Brazil. Bright, lively illustrations invite small readers and listeners to guess what happens next because…well, because poor Purrball has Mom’s phone and charger tangled around his leg. Burrball the Sloth (very pleasingly ...

When I was a kid it annoyed me that so few books mentioned characters who went to church. I went to church. Most of the people I knew went to church. Weren't we worth writing about? I suspect when I was a kid I simply wasn't drawn to, or introduced to, those sweet Sunday school books that would have filled that gap. Perhaps that's just as well. But now I read the Sunday-school-sweet books, all grown up, plus many others where characters do go to church but don't feel the need to tell the world--or is it where authors do go to church but don't feel the need to tell the world? I guess the question still remains, are people like me worth writing about--are we worth reading about? And the truth is, I really don't want to read about me; I want to read about someone interesting, or at least someone in a story that's interesting; I want a fiction to draw me in and make me think before it spits me out. There'll have to be facts in that fiction if it's go...

If you've followed my book reviews, you probably know I have a preference for fiction. I like the order of beginnings middles and endings. I like to know there'll be a purpose revealed between the lines, and that those unknown lives won't hurt, though they'll haunt from the turning of the page. Real life has an awkward habit of being really messy. And I meet real people every day--why should I want to meet a stranger in a book? I was asked to review a memoir recently--not my favorite genre. But this wasn't just an ordinary memoir of ordinary everyday life; this particular memoir was written from jail. I couldn't decide if that would make me like it more or less. After all, this was hardly going to be a character I'd really want to meet. Would I want to spend all the pages of a book in his company. And his world? Wouldn't it be full of complaints and railing against the system? But it did have a cool title. So here are my reviews of some seriously g...