What Originality Is Not

T-E-R-R-I-F-I-C

For The High Calling book club (led by the amazing Laura Boggess):
Booked: Literature in the Soul of Me
by Karen Swallow Prior
This week we're discussing chapters 1-3. Join us!



I remember the first time I read Goodnight Moon. I read it over and over again, excited for each page-turn so I could search for the little white mouse and see the minute hand on the clock advance, little by little.

I remember the first time I read Ramona the Brave and all the other Ramona Quimby stories. I knew exactly how she felt when that mean ol' German Shepherd harrassed her. I knew how she felt and also looked up to her, for she was braver than I. I would have had neither courage nor creativity enough to defend myself by throwing one of my shoes at the growling menace.

I remember, too, the first time I read Charlotte's Web. When I read these children's books for the first time, I was not a child. I was a mother in my late twenties and early thirties, taking one son, then two, then three, to the weekly storytimes at the Rockrimmon library branch. There I discovered, and became enamored with, childre's fiction. I probably would never have read much children's literature if I had not had children of my own.

Unlike Karen Swallow Prior's, my childhood included no Grandma and Grandpa On-the-Farm; no love for or even exposure to animals; no experiences, really, outside the concrete of the L.A. suburb that was my stomping grounds. Yet if I were to write my own Booked, Wilbur and Charlotte would get a chapter all to themselves too. I think it's because they were friends. And because I have always, always wanted a friend like Charlotte.

As she weaves words about Wilbur into her web, Wilbur tries to live up to the meaning of the words. . . . Like the old riddle of the chicken and the egg, the power of giving something its proper name, in turn, empowers it to become the name it is called.

- Prior, p.42

I recognized the great power in Charlotte's words when she called her friend Wilbur "terrific."

Wilbur blushed. "But I'm not terrific, Charlotte. I'm just about average for a pig."

"You're terrific as far as I'm concerned," replied Charlotte, sweetly, "and that's what counts. You're my best friend, and I think you're sensational."

- from Charlotte's Web, p.91

It's the power of encouragement and the wonder of generous love. Years after I read that for the first time, a friend told me, "Monica, I think you're terrific!" And the effect of those words coming over the phone was just as powerful as when I read page 91 of Charlotte's Web. Even more powerful, because the "terrific" was not meant for a fictional pig. It was meant for me.

Prepared to Begin

and yet
how long have I
been preparing?

Until

And it could be, if we had
no unanswered questions
by bedtime

there would be
no dreams,
no song playing
in our head
when we awake.

When Inspiration Comes

At the Net

(For the "sudden" poetry prompt at Writer's Digest.)

After the first serve I rush
the net, attack like a tiger already

pouncing on prey. My graphite racquet
raised at the ready, I punch each volley

and make her run, sideline to sideline
until, instead of a curving forehand

trying to pass me down the line, she tries
a short lob. Grinning, I turn, confident

with an impending overhead bullet
but hear the pop of my ankle, rolled over,

and I roll in no-man’s land holding
an ankle already starting to swell.

You Cannot Hope...

…which sounds like another way to say:

If you want to be
a writer,
first be
a reader.