My mere polliwog of a blog has wriggled its way into a full-fledged froggy. I think that’s worth celebrating, don’t you? Let’s dust off the Dime and have a grand time with a giveaway!
Leave a comment on this blog post by 11 p.m. on Friday, December 22, and you’ll be entered to win a surprise package filled with 11 prizes designed to delight, inspire and encourage you. It’ll come your way in January to give you a (gentle!) post-holiday push.
This coming year will be filled with exciting preparation for the release of my first book in January 2025. Be sure to hop by to see what’s happening, including fresh pages and inside scoops on publication news.
And, as always, my little dew drops, words of encouragement will be waiting for you!
The secret of making progress is to get started. ~ Mark Twain
In January 2025, my very first children’s book will be hurled into the world: THE BIG BOOK OF BARF – A Spewnami of Sick Science, Hurled History and Body Oddities in Ralphabetical Order. My publisher is Bright Matter, a non-fiction imprint of Random House Books for Children. Woo hoo!!
Day after day, my noggin is rumbling with random thoughts like these:
Seriously? I’m going to be a 62 year old debut author! How? WHAT?!!
Got to start a list of all of the people I want to thank for encouraging me all these years (and years and years). That’s going to be a long list.
This is real. Like for reals real. It’s actually happening. Maybe it’s finally safe to celebrate.
Publishing is one random, subjective business.
It’s true. Preparation pays off.
Got to find a way to express my gratitude to my family in a tangible way.
Wish I could reconnect with my teachers from across the years who recognized, challenged and championed my abilities.
I’m finally going to have my very own ISBN!!!
So glad I went to that SCBWI-MI workshop in March 2020 to learn how to create a non-fiction book proposal. I followed the “recipe” and it worked!
Presenting at the elementary school where I was a student and my kids went to school will be surreal.
Never ever thought I’d write a whole book about barf, but the whole process was a joy.
I need to come up with a snappy comeback for when kids inevitably ask, “How old are you?”
Better get noodling on my next non-fiction project and perfecting a new proposal.
Wondering if I’ll get to do a dedication page. What’ll I say?
Can’t believe this book was sparked by a serendipitous, random comment during an ordinary conversation. Magic!
Is it too self-centered to worry that commotion over the presidential election will interfere with my debut. (Uh. Probably!)
What if my publisher goes belly up before my book comes out?
Please oh please do not ask me to write a second book (an “eek”quel to THE BIG BOOK OF BARF) about #2. (I poo poo that idea!} Love non-fiction, but not that!
Chuckling over the thought of my obituary. “Children’s author Vicky Lorencen will be remembered for THE BIG BOOK OF BARF.” I love the thought of making people laugh even after I’m gone.
I am going to hear a ‘hurl” lot of barf stories.
My name is about to change to Children’s Author Vicky Lorencen. I sure like the sound of that.
Wonder how I’ll react when I hold my book for the first time.
Can’t wait to do school visits. (First, I need to get tips from all my friends who are pros.) It also reminds me of #16.
I need to get in better shape so I’ll have energy to enjoy what’s ahead.
Hoping kids will really, really, really like my book. Yes, really.
Wouldn’t it be cool if my success encourages another writer who is still in the “waiting room.”
It’s so weird how this feels inevitable. Why or how, I don’t know, but it does.
Sure this sounds crazy, but I fantasize about speaking at the SCBWI winter conference in NY and wonder what song to I want playing as I approach the podium. (No point waiting till the last minute–or for an invitation to speak.)
BONUS! Everyone who entered Frog on a Dime’s 11th Birthday Giveaway can look forward to receiving a very special surprise in February. Thank you so much for your patience and encouragement!
So be sure when you step, Step with care and great tact. And remember that life’s A Great Balancing Act. And will you succeed? Yes! You will, indeed! (98 and ¾ percent guaranteed) Kid, you’ll move mountains. ~ Dr. Seuss
When your work-in-progress refuses to, well, progress, give yourself permission to call a TIME OUT. Sure, for some, a physical activity (e.g., taking a quick walk) can do the trick. I guess I’m a little different. I find much-needed mental refreshment from letting my brain go out to play (so long as its well supervised!). For example, engaging in a simple writing exercise can (re)invigorate my imagination and remind me how fun writing can be.
Recently, I challenged myself to play with the lyrics of a famous song, syllable by syllable. It felt like real exercise for my gooey gray matter dipped in a sweet sugar coating of zero-pressure pleasure. Why not give it a try, my little pumpkin spice biscuit. If you dare, please share the results.
Sound of Silence Night
(Apologies to Mr. Simon)
Hello Feedback, my old friend–
You’ve come to toy with me again
Words of derision swiftly heaping
Grow like weeds while I am sleeping
And the revisions that are ranting in my brain
Still complain–
With this next round, try silence.
***
In ripped up jeans I walk alone
To buy a bar of Toblerone
‘Neath the beam of a gooseneck lamp
I scroll the pages till my fingers cramp
When my eyes are stabbed by a plot so flat and trite
A wasted night
Even my muse is silent.
***
And in my lava lamp I saw
Ten thousand people I may bore
People banning without reading
Critics speaking without thinking
Authors writing books that agents never share
No one dares
Curb the sound of silence.
***
“Dudes,” say I, “You do not know
Silence like my word count grows
Hear my words through this blue kazoo
Read my texts that I might reach you!”
But my work like sweaty high tops smells
Say geckoes in the wells of silence.
***
And the writers bow and pray
Over critiques for which they pay
Spellcheck flashes out its warning
After words they are misforming.
***
And agents say, “The words of this novel
Should be written on subway walls
And bathroom stalls
And whispered—no, drowned!—in silence.”
Stepping out of a normal routine, finding novelty, being open to serendipity, enjoying the unexpected, embracing a little risk, and finding pleasure in the heightened vividness of life. These are all qualities of a state of play. ~ Stuart Brown,Play: How It Shapes the Brain, Opens the Imagination, and Invigorates the Soul
And now, for a short and sweet cinnamon sugar, pumpkin spice announcement!
Congratulations to the winner of the So Long to Summer Open House prize drawing–Meline Scheidel. Thank you to Meline and everyone who stopped by to leave a kind comment (or 2 or 3!) It’s always delightful to hear from you! Really. Really.
Meline, a special prize package will be winding your way soon. I hope it helps to make your autumn awesome!
I look forward to baking up fresh blog posts to fill everyone with encouragement. But first, I need to gather more chestnuts, share a snack with the squirrels (will they ever say thank you?) and sip another cup of tea.
More soon!
I would rather sit on a pumpkin, and have it all to myself, than be crowded on a velvet cushion. ~ Henry David Thoreau
My little blueberry scones, it’s been far-too, much-too, too-too loooong since Frog on a Dime has hopped into your inbox. Technical torments have slowed me down. BUT THEN, (hark!) just yesterday, a shiny, newborn computer was delivered. HURRAH!!!! Now, I have ear-poppingly high hopes to be back in the blog writing business again soon.
Before summer melts into glorious autumn, I want to welcome you to my annual open house. By “open house,” I mean, come as you are, snoop around this site, see what’s new (at least to you!) and soak up all the encouragement your heart can hold.
If you’ll be kind enough to leave a comment on this post (or any of my posts, really), you’ll automatically be entered into a So Long Summer Open House Surprise Package Giveaway. Since it’s a “surprise,” you can’t exactly be privy to the particulars, but rest most assured I will do my best to make sure the lucky prize winner is delighted, amused, inspired and encouraged by this special prize package. I hope you’ll enter. If you care to leave two (different) comments, you can double your chances.
To enter, please leave your comment(s) by noon (Eastern Time) on Friday, September 22–the day we say so long to Summer. (I’m a fan of fall, so bring on the autumnal equinox. It’s fine by me!) I’ll announce the winner on the first day of fall! (I wish every season started that way!)
Can’t wait to hear from you, my buttered pumpkin muffins!
Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower. ~ Albert Camus
Let’s say you’re between writing projects or you are clueless as to what your next one will be. Rather than roll yourself into a beach ball of bewilderment, here’s what you do: do something else.
Learn to make scones. Experiment with watercolors. Try a new type of yoga (goats optional). Throw your first pot. Pick up golf (miniature golf, for starters) or ax throwing. Read a classic you’ve somehow missed. Hike a trail. Rearrange a room. Adopt a ferret. Plant veggies. Climb your family tree. Visit a new city. Play!
In other words, devote yourself to something unrelated to your writing.
As you reorient your mind from writing mode to [FILL IN THE BLANK] mode, you give your brain a break. With time, tender new green leafy ideas will emerge while you’re cruising in your kayak or knitting another mitten.
Giving yourself permission to go on a mental vacation may sound like a coy way to slack off. But it’s not. It’s really not—IF you do it with intention. Block the time on your calendar for your mental-pause, cerebral siesta, noggin’ nap, rejuvacation or whatever you want to call it. Then, decide what you’d like to do and choose a backup activity in case your first plan goes wonky. Call it “unravel insurance.”
Oh! And be sure to keep a journal handy in case any new ideas sprout while you’re out!
Enjoy, my little strawberry parfaits! And send me a postcard (or a message), won’t you?
Change your mind and the rest will follow. ~ Songwriters: Gerald Edward Levert / Denzil Delano Foster / Thomas Mcelroy
My little polka dot bumper shoots, it’s finally spring! There’s no better time of year to remind you of the payoff for your perseverance.
What a joy to see shy green leaves, long stemmed tulips and curlicued ferns burst into life like nature’s popcorn–seemingly overnight. But we know that fresh explosion is only possible after months of rest, coupled with preparation and determination. The same is true for you and me.
You may be reflecting on your progress (or lack thereof) as a creative person and feel frustrated or discouraged today. It’s possible you let yourself be victimized by the “Comparison Game” (again). Everyone else is so far ahead of me. (You know that’s a lie, right?) Phooey on those energy drainers. Don’t let those thoughts or feelings drag you down for too long. Keep working, experimenting, growing . . . all that behind the scenes struggle may be preparing you for an opportunity or a break through beyond your imaging. YOU will be spring!
Please know this is the voice of experience talking, not a hollow motivational speech. Your magnificent, obsessive perseverance will prove its worth. Watch for signs of green, my little peepers!
The trumpet of a prophesy! O Wind, if Winter comes, can Spring be far behind? ~ Percy Bysshe Shelley
Many thanks to everyone who hopped by to celebrate Frog on a Dime’s 10th Anniversary.
Special congratulations to lucky giveaway winner — Pam Patterson! Be watching your mail box for an extra special, tintastic package packed especially for you!
My heart is filled with gratitude and joy because of the kindness and encouragement all of you have given me. You make me look forward to the year to come.
Piglet noticed that even though he had a Very Small Heart, it could hold a rather large amount of Gratitude.
DYK the traditional 10th anniversary gift is tin? You know, the stuff used to make green beans cans and Dorothy Gale’s heartless friend. I know. It surprised me too.
Then I did a little digging about what makes tin so special. Turns out, tin has a lot going for it.
Tin is pliable, flexible and adaptable. G’head—Roll it! Spin it! Extrude it!
Tin protects other metals like steel from corrosion and boat bottoms from barnacles. (I mean, who wants bottom barnacles?)
Tin may be weak on its own, but it can be tintastic when it is alloyed with other metals in materials like bronze and pewter.
And you know what, my little sugar crystals? You and I are a lot like tin. We creatives need to adapt and be flexible in order to learn, grow and develop our skills.
By offering empathy and encouragement to one another, we help to protect one another from the corrosion of disabling discouragement.
And when we “alloy” ourselves (work together), our strength is multiplied. How is that not tin-tastic?
[BONUS info: One other way we’re like tin—did you know when a bar of tin is bent, it makes a crackling “cry”? Who knew metal could get emo? We can all relate to that when we’re hunched over in despair or disappointment.]
My wee tin cups of tenderness, I cannot thank you enough for your TEN years of you being you-ness. Your encouragement, participation, comments, willingness to be my guest from time to time, and kind words have made my life sweeter by tenfold. To thank you, I’m offering my finest giveaway in a decade.
Enter to win an extra special, one-of–a-kind 10th anniversary memento designed to serve as a source of encouragement. I’ll include extra goodies too—like a coupon for critique of up to TEN pages of your work. To enter, leave a comment on this post by Friday, December 16/10:10 p.m. (EST).
When I left Queen’s, my future seemed to stretch out before me like a straight road. I thought I could see along it for many a milestone. Now there is a bend in it. I don’t know what lies around the bend, but I am going to believe that the best does. It has a fascination of its own, that bend, Marilla. I wonder how the road beyond it goes – what there is of green glory and soft, checkered light and shadows – what new landscapes – what new beauties – what curves and hills and valleys farther on. ~ L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables
Please GO before it’s too late. Not to worry. A horde of flatulating zombies isn’t trudging your way. I want you to get out to discover what being outside can do for your writing.
Non-obligatory disclaimer: Common wisdom says to creating a designated writing space in your home helps the brain associate the space with writing and engage more readily. But it’s summertime! And I live in Michigan. Gnats stick around longer, so I want to enjoy the benefits of being an outsider before it’s too late.
Photo by Vicky Lorencen
Before you head out, here’s what to pack:
Two snacks. (One will be your real snack to refresh you when you need it, and the other is to eat shortly after you head out because once your brain knows that snack is there. We both know it will nag you–like a six-year-old who hears the ice cream truck coming–until you consume it. Do so without guilt or worry. Snack two is there for you.)
Hand sanitizer. This relates to the aforementioned.
Sunscreen. You want to produce masterful writing, not squamous cells and saggy skin, right?
Bug spray. One less distraction.
Water. Do I have to explain?
Electronic stuff. Fully charged phone for taking photos, recording ideas or even sounds, calling your agent to tell her how lucky she is to have you, and so forth. Fully charged laptop.
Legal pen and pens/pencils. Even if you don’t typically write the “old school” way, you may need it if your laptop stops.
An ID. This is for emergencies, like when you are blinded by your own brilliance and need help returning to base camp.
Something to sit on. (This one is destination dependent.) Think beach towel or a wee cush for the toosh.
To me the outdoors is what you must pass through in order to get from your apartment into a taxicab. ~ Fran Lebowitz
Oh, Fran. Fran. Fran.
And now, shall we step outside?
Sit on your deck/balcony/patio. Now, be prepared. The writing molecules in your gray matter may go all fizzy, but that’s temporary. Once you’ve acclimated, start a fast-as-you-can-type list of everything your senses are delivering to you. Describe those physical sensations. How do they make you feel emotionally? As a result, what childhood memories come for a visit? Be sure to keep your list in a folder for future reference to add depth and authenticity to your story.
Photo by Vicky Lorencen, 2022
Head to the beach. Listen to the water and the gulls, of course, but tune your ear into children at play, the sounds of distant volleyball match, the flap-flap-flap of a beach umbrella. Record what you see, how your toes feel in the sand, and the smells, both inviting and repulsive. (Is that a dead fish? Seaweed? A diaper?!)
Foamy and frothy/ribbons white/reflecting soft sunbeams/to our delight/foaming in crests/rippling warm sands/tracing their patterns/on the dry land. ~ Poem from “Seashore” by Suzy Davies
Photo by Vicky Lorencen
Linger at a sidewalk cafe. You’re not eavesdropping. You’re doing research. This is your chance to snatch random phrases, tone of voice, and humans interacting in their natural, caffeine-laced environment. What does the rude person say? (What’s making them behave this way?) How does the barista respond? (What’s really going on in her head?)
Photo by Vicky Lorencen
Walk around the block. Pay attention to the houses, yards, driveways, front stoops and porches. Record whatever captures your imagination. Why is that front door wide open? Why is that woman running with a leash and no dog? Is someone cooking sauerkraut? Oh, my gosh, I think those kids are having a pet funeral. A bike with a basket? I remember those. What’s with that beat up car? I never saw that bumper sticker before. Look at that poor dog. Oh, he must belong to Leash Lady!
Maybe freedom really is nothing left to lose. You had it once in childhood, when it was okay to climb a tree, to paint a crazy picture and wipe out on your bike, to get hurt. The spirit of risk gradually takes its leave. It follows the wild cries of joy and pain down the wind, through the hedgerow, growing ever fainter. What was that sound? A dog barking far off? That was our life calling to us, the one that was vigorous and undefended and curious. ~ Peter Heller, Hell or High Water: Surviving Tibet’s Tsangpo River
Photo by Vicky Lorencen
Hit the trail. Walk or bike, either way, see what the woods or a desert pathway can do to stimulate your senses. Close your eyes (once you’re off your bike!). Perk your ears. Suck in a chest full of that fresh air. Watch for critters or signs of their presence. What natural magic do you find?
None of your knowledge, your reading, your connections will be of any use here: two legs suffice, and big eyes to see with. Walk alone, across mountains or through forests. You are nobody to the hills or the thick boughs heavy with greenery. You are no longer a role, or a status, not even an individual, but a body, a body that feels sharp stones on the paths, the caress of long grass and the freshness of the wind. When you walk, the world has neither present nor future: nothing but the cycle of mornings and evenings. Always the same thing to do all day: walk. But the walker who marvels while walking (the blue of the rocks in a July evening light, the silvery green of olive leaves at noon, the violet morning hills) has no past, no plans, no experience. He has within him the eternal child. While walking I am but a simple gaze. ~ Frédéric Gros, A Philosophy of Walking
Photo by Vicky Lorencen
Park it. Take a blanket for flexibility or pick a park bench. Watch kids play. Listen to random bits of phone conversations as people pass. What’s the status of the remaining wildlife here? Are the squirrels timid or cheeky? How do the birds behave? What are they pecking at? Is that . . . ooo, I smell popcorn. (This is fortuitous since you’ve already snarfed down Snack 1 and Snack 2, haven’t you?)
Fewer and fewer people are raised outside of cities as the decades progress. Nature is sometimes not available for generations of children. Sad state of affairs. ~ Efrat Cybulkiewicz
Welcome to Frog on a Dime 