Comments on: Why I (Still) Write for Children, Part I

By: Candice

Candice — Wed, 27 May 2015 22:30:08 +0000

Lorri, Comic books! Buttermints! Cousins! We were separated at birth, I think. Hillbilly Bread I’m assuming is Wonder or something even softer and “pillier.” You know, make dough pills and throw them at each other.

I loved your stories, your Ozark childhood (not a whole lot of difference between a hillbilly and a redneck) that mirrored mine. You have such strong memories, such a great sense of humor, so kid-centered. Girl! You’ve got ready-made material! And when you’ve written one or two, holler for me to come up in the treehouse and read them to me. I like the yellow pastel buttermints.

By: Lorri Cardwell-Casey

Lorri Cardwell-Casey — Wed, 27 May 2015 17:38:09 +0000

I’m so glad you told me about these entries! I am smiling and feel so connected, because I’m relating to so many things in what you wrote about writing AND life.
We moved to ten acres when I was 11. Dad always promised to build us a playhouse or treehouse…but never got around to it. I’ll be 52 soon and I’m still disappointed. I did, however, create our own imaginary “houses” in our woods, making an outline with plentiful chunks of Ozarks’ rocks and using our red wagon on its side, full of fallen branches, as our “fireplace.” Because we were one county over from where Laura Ingalls Wilder wrote her books, my younger sisters and brother and I WERE Laura and her family, somewhere faraway on a prairie, not in the sticky humidity and heat, battling ticks and chiggers. Our baby brother and sister rode the wagon down the hilly field, with me pulling and my next sister down pushing. Mom put us outside summer mornings, locked the door, and off we went, a paper grocery bag with our provisions–a jar of water, some Saltines, a partial loaf of Hillbilly Bread, and whatever else we could sneak out of the kitchen.
I did enjoy one treehouse though–three boy cousins’ magical place, high up a long metal ladder, with a fancy railing, front porch, and one room with three windows. (Those were the cousins who always had EVERY new toy, EVERY new game, EVERY new everything, AND a concrete basketball court with two goals!) We often swapped weeks at each other’s houses during the summers, with the Pendergrasses coming to the Cardwells, or the Cardwells going to the Pendergrasses, sometimes both, two weeks in a row. We usually got along very well, but by the end of too-much-time-together, sometimes a Hatfield/McCoy fuss blew up. And when that happened, you ran for the treehouse, trying to get all your clan up the ladder in time to pull up the ladder and prevent the other clan from climbing up, too. Then it was a glaring stand-off. Those left on the ground would squint up and holler, “You ain’t got no food or water up there, ya know! Or a BATHROOM!” And those in the lofty treehouse would pretend they didn’t care and reigned over all the world anyway. And thought about how thirsty and hungry they felt–and how they really needed to pee.
I spent a lot of my summers up a tree, trying to hide from my siblings, usually with both pockets full of buttermints and with a tall stack of magazines, comic books, and books. Now, those, those really WERE good ol’ days…
Thanks for reminding me!

By: Melissa Gaggiano

Melissa Gaggiano — Thu, 30 Apr 2015 01:25:39 +0000

I so wanted to have a tree house when I was a kid. Still do really.

By: Kathy

Kathy — Fri, 27 Mar 2015 15:12:14 +0000

I have been reading your blog since I purchased your Iva Honeysuckle books for my oldest granddaughter. We read the first book together and had so many laughs. It was a return to my own childhood. Thanks for this post. I completely agree. Keep writing for children.

By: Candice

Candice — Wed, 25 Mar 2015 11:34:17 +0000

In reply to Donna.

I think most days you and I both should be in a tree house. We wouldn’t get a lick of work done, but so what?

Our trees aren’t big enough, but *yours* are. Let’s ask our husbands to build us one!

By: Candice

Candice — Wed, 25 Mar 2015 11:30:35 +0000

In reply to Lulu Delacre.

Lulu! How wonderful of you to stop by! I can’t quit. It’s not just part of who I am–it *is* who I am. Destiny handed to me at a very early age, just getting harder to fulfill.

I miss the Guild, too, but the drive is simply horrible. No matter what they do to I-95, add toll lanes, whatever, it’s still a nightmare.

Take care!

By: Donna

Donna — Wed, 25 Mar 2015 10:47:56 +0000

I’ve been mulling over your blog post for several days. Your description of your childhood days and the adventure of discovering the treasures in your own backyard is truly a perfect day – not only for the child-sized version of me, but also for the grown-up lady version. Yesterday, I spent an hour in a garden playing with flowers and taking their pictures, and I felt like a kid again.

Keep writing for children. They need your books now more than ever. And I’ll read them, too – simply because I need to keep the curiosity of childhood in my life. Thank you for telling stories that matter and always encouraging me!

By: Lulu Delacre

Lulu Delacre — Wed, 25 Mar 2015 00:57:14 +0000

Keep on writing, Candice. It’s part of who you are. Write for children or adults. Just write. Create, breathe. Miss you seeing at the Guild.

By: Candice

Candice — Tue, 24 Mar 2015 10:39:00 +0000

In reply to Marilyn Gardiner. Thanks, Marilyn. You don't know how many times I've dreamed about our group . . . those were the best times. We were all so close, so into our work . . . and every one of you helped raise me.

By: Candice

Candice — Tue, 24 Mar 2015 10:37:57 +0000

In reply to jeannine atkins.

I can’t open one single page in either Pilgrim at Tinker’s Creek or An American Childhood and not want to stop what I’m doing and read. Annie Dillard is an American treasure.

I want to write more, too. It’s still a struggle and I’m my own worst enemy.