Catching the Wind
"God provides the wind, Man must raise the sail." St. Augustine I rebel against instructions of every type, so I was quite proud of myself for reading the pamphlet long enough to put my daughter’s butterfly kite together. It was close to
How Many Petersheims Does it Take to Launch a Novel?
Five, to be exact. I became an author soon after I became a mother, and one of my goals was to make my writing part of my family’s life. This is why I write at the kitchen table instead of in
The Magnum Opus & Motherhood
Sitting up at night with my infant child, my feet rocking the glider on their own, plots begin to stir and thicken as characters bob to the surface in the sleepy cauldron of my mind. Tomorrow, I think, swaddling my daughter
Balancing Motherhood & Artistry
This Wednesday, while hiding in the bathroom, I tried to call local libraries and bookstores to line up book events for The Alliance, but my girls (four years old and nineteen months) couldn’t stand being separated from me. So, they pounded on the door and twisted on the handle until I had to open it and usher them inside. The three of us stood in front of the sink, looking at each other in the mirror, as I continued to wait on hold. A few hours later, I received an extortion letter that required me to sit on the floor while a stranger told me how much I (allegedly) owe. Needless to say, Wednesday was not my favorite and had my husband praying before dinner, “Thank you for this . . . day.” And then he opened his eyes and grinned at me across the table because, in that pause, he'd purposefully omitted the word “good.” But then, as my husband and I were tucking our eldest into bed, she looked at me and said, "Did your book camed out?" I titled my head. "My book?" She nodded in the dark. "The one with the plane. Did it camed out?" I touched her chin. "No, not yet." "But your other ones camed out?" I smiled at her, my throat tight. "Yes. two." My husband and I looked at each other across her pink comforter, and the stress from the entire day just melted off me. I could tell by my his smile that it had melted off him too. Sometimes, if I’m just honest with you (and what's the point of all this if I'm not?), I wonder if I’m making the right choice by pursuing an author career while my children are so young. I wonder if, otherwise, I’d do more macaroni crafts, read more books, be more patient, bake complicated, raw-food cookies that my children actually like. What if--once my
Happy Little Clouds: A Writer Tries Her Hand at Painting
Last night, I tried my hand at painting. I’ve already been barred from painting walls, because no matter how careful I am in the beginning, the paint always ends up splattered in places it should never be. But I thought
Learning From Little Women
This weekend, my poor husband's been sick. Friday night, bored—and slightly bummed we weren’t out on a date—I broke my new TV rule, sat on the couch, ate yogurt, and watched Little Women while the rest of the Petersheim household slept. I have