One element I really like to include in my art is action. For me it makes a piece more fun to draw and hopefully that action makes it more fun to look at too. I not only like to tell A story with a piece. I like to tell MANY stories. Partly that's because I'm constantly doing more than one thing at a time. For example, as I'm typing this I'm listening to "This American Life" online, I'm keeping an eye on my email and every few seconds I'm stopping to throw the squeaky ball for Twig, the terrible min min puppy.

But that's the way life really is, isn't it? Outside my window, I can hear at least a couple of different kinds of birds, the rumble of a delivery truck going past the house and siren wails in the distance. If I actually got up off my rear and looked outside the window, I'm sure I could add a lot more description of the activity on my street. But, I don't feel like getting up right now. That just seems hard.

I started thinking about all this after I was asked by a writing student how they might make the action scenes in their stories more exciting - less, and this is their word not mine - less lame.

That was a great question and I got kind of excited about it. What does make a good action scene? Well, a strong point of view can help. That can get your reader more invested in what's happening with and to your main character. Of course, showing and not telling is not just an old standby - it can breathe much needed life into a scene. And sensory writing can also be the pretty pink frosting on top of it all.

So, to help make my point clearer for this student, I decided to compose an example.

Sally’s biceps shuddered as she hefted her uncle’s sword above her head. A twinge of regret fluttered through her brain. I knew I should have kept up with my weightlifting regime.

The Gorgon made a snickering sound as it whipped its snake hair at her. Sally wrinkled her nose at the stench of its breath. “You lookin’ at me?” it jeered. “Are you lookin’ at me?”

Sally heaved a sigh of relief as she allowed gravity to pull the weight of the sword down in a slash. But she didn’t even get close to the monster.

“Missed me, missed me! Now you gotta kiss me!” The Gorgon laughed and spun out of the way, the snakes joining in the giggles.

“Okay, that’s it.” Sally gritted her teeth and felt beads of sweat break out on her forehead as she raised the sword again. She pivoted on her left foot, a move she’d perfected in her baton twirling class, and then immediately shifted right before driving the sword square into the Gorgon’s belly.

Sally gazed with satisfaction at the sight of the snakes now looking as wilted as last week’s daisies. A few seconds later the dead Gorgon crumbled to dust.

“Here’s the deal,” Sally said, scattering the Gorgon dust with a push of the toe of her sneaker. “I’m not kissing no snakes.” And with that, she turned to walk away into the sunset, thinking her uncle had a lot of explaining to do.

Like the oil pastel drawing at the top of this post this scene was a lot of fun to write. And it reminded me just why I like teaching so much. It gives me a chance to keep thinking about writing in a fresh way. It reminds me that keeping things fun is important. It reminds me that even though I'm tired and too lazy to get out of my chair, I can still stay in the action.

Here you go, Twig! Get the squeaky ball!

For some additional and way more awesome writing types, you just can't do better than this.

Even though this artwork is mine, all mine, most people that know my work wouldn't guess that. For one, it's in black and white, and two, there are no cats in bikinis or poodles swilling pinot. Oh well.

But it IS my artwork and the reason it does look different is because this stone lithograph print was done in response to a creative prompt.

I LOVE creative prompts and you should too. They're the limbering up before the big game exercise. They're the writing out 5 drafts of a dear John letter before you actually send the thing. They're the working out the life kinks of your creativity.

And I was so totally thrilled to hear of National Public Radio's ultimate writing prompt which you'll find here.

I entered, shocked at what it evoked - laughing at the final result. I don't expect to win. That wasn't why I entered. I entered because as a writer I wanted to play - to zip, dive, weave - exercise my muscles - yay!

The title of the above art is "Breakfast of Champions". As creative people, we ARE the champions, no?

Ans as far as breakfast?

I vote maple bar.

Yesterday I had the distinct pleasure of being a guest at a book club. Now, I've been a member of various book clubs over the years but this meeting was oh, so very different from any that I've ever attended. I was a guest because the wonderful Middle Sisters Book Club (so named because most are present or former middle school teachers) read my book, Listen and wanted to talk about it.

I was thrilled to be invited but as the day drew closer I began to get more and more nervous. And by the time I was supposed to be getting in my car to go, I wasn't just nervous - I was SUPER nervous. All the trite fears that most artist and writers I know have spun my brain all sideways. What am going to say? What if they ask me a question and I freeze? I'll look all stupid and then I'll have to make a run for it because they'll find out I'm a fraud, fraud, fraud. So, when I pulled up to the house, I positioned my truck to facilitate a quick getaway if need be.

But none of these things happened. The ladies were gracious and welcoming. The questions they posed were thoughtful and insightful. One woman had flagged a spot in my book and said she was afraid I was going to go down a certain road. She was sure of it and it kind of stressed her out. When she found out I'd turned the story in a different direction she'd felt relieved and she wanted to know more about why I'd made that choice.

Wow! I'd succeeded in making someone seriously uncomfortable! I never knew that was one of my life goals until that very moment. But man, it sure felt great to have achieved it anyway.

The rest of time was spent fielding questions around plot, pacing, writing authentic dialogue for animals (you'll just have to read the book to know exactly what I mean here), and even the meaning of a character's name. I didn't freeze. I actually had a blast - I mean who doesn't like to talk about their ideas in front of a captive audience?

But what I didn't expect from the meeting is that by talking about my motivations for writing that book and hearing their astute feedback, it got me really considering my motivations for the project I'm working on now. I drove home all fired up to get back to the keyboard.

So thank you, Middle Sisters Book Club. Thank you for your hospitality, the lively discussion and oh, yes - thank you for the spread of food including a glorious tower of luscious, velvety - wait for it - cupcakes.

Next time someone asks me why I write, I have a new answer.

It's because then maybe - somebody will give me cupcakes.

Okay, so I was at my tennis team practice the other day. We were running drills that mostly consisted of getting a ball cannon-balled at you just short of the speed of sound. You won't find any wimps on our team. And after returning some, missing some and getting hit in RIGHT IN THE SOFT PART OF THE INNER THIGH, thanks for that really, I ran wide for a backhand and caught it weird. That ball shot out an an angle and hit the plastic scorekeeper between the courts. That happens sometimes. But this time it hit and lodged in the home-side #4.

If you're not sitting back, awestruck, amazed at such an occurrence, then you don't understand the one in a million aspect of the event. This was a hole in one, a lightning strike, a bonified shark attack.

But after I had made the rounds of high fives, it was back to business, returning balls, missing balls and dodging a certain teammate's death overheads. And I was enjoying the heck out of all of it. What was I going to do, be all sad and depressed because every single ball I hit for the next hour and a half wasn't a hole in one?

And as always, I was reminded of my art and writing life. Surprise! I love making a sale of one of my books - love, it, love it, love it. It makes me make rodent squeals and I then jump around like a velociraptor after chugging a case of Red Bull. But news flash, I don't make a sale every day. So does that mean I'm never happy in my creative life when I'm head-down practicing my craft? What a bummer that would be.

In Spinal Tap there's that great scene where Nigel patiently explains that their amp goes to 11. When pressed as to why they just couldn't have an amp where 10 is simply louder, Nigel reiterates that they have one that goes to 11, because clearly that's one better, isn't it?

Those days we get an agent or make a sale are definitely an 11 moment. But if that's all we lived for we wouldn't last long, because those 11 moments can be few and far between. And you know, in my old age, I've decided that I'm going to be happy at all the other numbers too.

When I get good feedback at my critique group I glow because that's probably a 4, if I figure out a character problem I smile and get a cookie thinking I just cleared a 5, If I make myself sit in that chair for one more extra hour to finish a chapter then I tell myself that I've been a very good dog and consider that a 6. No 11s but still totally happy.

So go for those 11 moments - sweat, endeavor, strive.

But don't forget to be happy along the way.

Remember - it's all a grand, glorious game - emphasis on game.