It’s that time of year again! All the fun kidlit contests are swinging back into season, starting with the marvelous Fall Writing Frenzy.
This year’s donor list is full of amazing authors, illlustrators, editors, and agents, so definitely swing by to check them out as well as the rest of the entries. My entry, clocking in at exactly the maximum 200 words, is below, inspired by the following image:
Beware where you wander on a foggy fall day when there’s no hint of wind but the branches still sway, where time stretches strangely and your watch makes no sense: there’s no morning or evening, just a long present tense. Where a tune through the trees seems to beckon you on, towards a glow that’s not moonlight nor starlight nor dawn. If you cross the pale bridge in the shimmering mist, the land feels familiar with an uncanny twist. If you follow the whispers of the pine-needled trail you might find a mystery, a garden, a grail. If instead you try tracking the dragon’s wingbeat, you’ll need all your courage, so stand firm on your feet. If you dance with the Fair Ones, don’t forget how to breathe– to remember you’re mortal is the passport to leave. Close your eyes, take a step, and believe you can fly— in a blink you’ll be back under homelier skies. When you’re home safe and sound, getting warm by the fire, you may find your heart filled by a fog-born desire— for a toll must be paid when you cross that pale span— and you’ll never quite be the same you that began.
I am absolutely delighted that my poem “Tanager’s Cantrip” was selected as editor’s choice for the April ekphrastic challenge over at Rattle literary magazine. My little magic spell of woodland birds and dappled light is on the front page today, and will shortly be listed in the archives of the ekphrastic challenge for future reading. I’m very grateful to both the editors and the artist; I loved Stephanie Trenchard‘s painting as soon as I saw it. I also really enjoyed the artist’s choice of poem as well, so I recommend that you check that one out when the two April winners are up in the archive!
What the series editor, Megan O’Reilly said about my poem:
“I was moved by ‘Tanager’s Cantrip’ before I even looked up the word “cantrip,” but when I read the definition–‘a magical spell’—I had a moment of ‘ah, of course.’ With its alliterative, chanting rhymes, this poem is an incantation, a blaze of magic language to match the visual magic of Stephanie Trenchard’s painting. The light, color, and movement in the image all contribute to its air of enchantment, and yet the figure of the girl is motionless and beige—an artistic choice that seems to lend credence to the poet’s use of the word still in ‘magic lives within you still.’ The girl in the painting, one could speculate, struggles to connect with the beauty around her. The last line of ‘Tanager’s Cantrip,’ seems to remind her that, despite this perceived separateness, she is where she belongs.”
They say poetry is a form of protest, and certainly it is good to feel like sometimes one’s words can pack a punch. I wrote this poem originally inspired by Rattle’s ekphrastic challenge for September of 2024, using this image by artist Barbara Gordon. I thought I was angry then, and I’m angrier now. So I’m sharing a poem, and asking you to contact the people who have power over the things you care about. Maybe that’s at the federal level, but maybe it’s your state or local government, your school committee, your library trustees. Make sure they know you’re paying attention.
CAUTION — DANGER — DO NOT CROSS — Barricades and barrels, flashing lights and flaring eyes. They tried to lock us out. They tried to box us in. But the people are the books are the ideas are the will to be free. And the library stayed open. And the books flew off the shelves. And the only words left unread flutter yellow in the wind like the cowardice that strung them.
It’s been a year, hasn’t it? I have two small children (getting less small by the day!) and looking back at pictures from the beginning of 2024 just has me stunned by how much can and does happen in a year, how much growth can occur, and how much it’s worth taking some time to appreciate it all as the year turns. So here’s a brief roundup on writing things I accomplished in the last year.
By The Numbers
13 new works written and completed to the point of submission this year (with a few other partials or nearly-ready)
45 works submitted for potential publication or entered in contests and pitch events
30 rejections or passes, though several invited me to send other work, and one held a submission for a few extra months for further consideration before finally passing.
#SkyPitch (I got one agent “like” on a pitch and made my first agent query)
I’m not quite done for the year yet, one or two more projects to finish in the next few days, but I can look back and say I’m really pleased with my writing year. Here’s to more good words in 2025, and good wishes to you all!
In amidst the addressing of Christmas cards, the list making, and tree decorating, it’s also the time for Susanna Leonard Hill’s Holiday Writing Contest!
Image from Susanna Hill’s contest page, see link above
The guidelines are that it must relate to any winter holiday, be a mystery, and no longer than 250 words (not including title). I was extremely honored to get an all-around honorable mention in the Halloweensie contest for Baby Goblin at the Halloween Ball, and am happy to present to you my tiny Christmas mystery, Who Stole Santa’s Boot?
An arctic fox in winter, all white, standing in the snow in front of a thicket of winter twigs. Emma, CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0, via Wikimedia Commons
Who Stole Santa’s Boot? By Meg Winikates (250 words)
This is the kitchen, smelling great, where cookies slide right off the plate. A chocolate boot-print on the floor— and Mrs. Claus points to the door.
This is the spot beside the sleigh where Santa tucks his boots away. He turns to put his slippers on— but suddenly, one boot is gone!
This is the fox who nabs the shoe for playful kits to gnaw and chew.
This is the stoat who shocks the fox (while Santa wanders in his socks) and drags the boot along the ground, delighted by this thing he’s found.
This is the owl that spooks the stoat, who hides below as white wings float. The owl swoops, the boot falls down, and crashes into tunnel town!
These are the lemmings that scoot and swarm into the boot, so safe and warm.
(This is St. Nick with chilly toes, his glasses balanced on his nose, requesting acrobatic elves to search the closets, climb the shelves!)
This is the hare with legs so strong, a boot hat on his ears so long, leaping across a frozen brook— (Where else can Santa think to look?)
This is the wise old caribou who gently bends to sniff the shoe; with boot between her teeth, she clops, and near the stable-door it drops, ready for Santa to retrieve— barely in time for Christmas Eve!
“So where do you suppose it’s been?” asks Mrs. Claus, and Santa grins. “My dear, we must admit defeat, and just rejoice they’re on my feet!”
The future looks really dark and uncertain right now. Yesterday I wept, today I’m in planning mode. And in case it helps any of you, here are some of my plans, to bring some light and carry it forward.
Read Good Books. For myself, and with my children, read the books that have the stories we need to hear that will buoy us up, enrich our compassion, and strengthen our wills. Not just the real-life stories, but the true ones too, with the characters who live in our hearts and hold our dreams when life looks bleak.
Keep home a haven. Play music, have spontaneous dance parties. Make art. Bake. Be silly. Start playing Christmas music early. Save politics for after the kids’ bedtimes. Use all the coping strategies we honed in lockdown to keep the weight of the world off little shoulders.
Pick up my flute and play. This was one of the only things that kept the panic attacks at bay during lockdown. Hoping it helps again.
Plant native plants and trees in my yard. Check in with my partner on our house improvement plans to take advantage of any green energy initiatives that are left unused as yet. Reinstall my rain barrels once spring returns.
Stay involved in my kids’ schools and the town committees and groups I’m part of. Make sure that I use my voice to speak up for the people who are going to need support.
Keep checking in on my friends and family.
Put myself on a strict social media diet. Scrolling and spiraling is not what any of us need right now, and as we all know, some sites are pretty much designed for doom. Check in, stay connected, but don’t drown.
Support independent news media like ProPublica, and keep supporting the public broadcasts like NPR, PBS, and my local stations. Stay informed, but take mental health breaks as needed.
Boycott Amazon. Shop local, support artists and small businesses, crowdfund cool stuff when I can. Things are going to get more expensive. Might as well put that money in my neighbors’ pockets instead of billionaires who don’t need it.
Keep writing. We all need stories, and if my words resonate with just one other person, then they are worth putting out into the world. There were a lot of people sharing poetry yesterday, for good reason.
Refuse to give up. Find the things I’m good at and care most about and protect them.
Today’s the start of the Halloweensie contest run by author Susanna Leonard Hill, and this year’s challenge was to write no more than 100 words (not including the title) using the three prompt words: goblin, tiptoe, and chill. There’s lots of fun stories up already, and I encourage you to go check them out. Here’s my entry:
A girl with curly red hair, seen in profile, wearing a sparkly black and gold dress and black witch hat, carrying a small pumpkin shaped bucket with plants inside. Photo by Paige Cody on Unsplash
Baby Goblin at the Halloween Ball by Meg Winikates (100 words)
Baby Goblin on tiptoe, sneaking where she shouldn’t go— Grown-up goblins celebrate, Halloween Ball starting late.
Ghosties twirling, goblins bounce, Werewolves whirling, black cats pounce. Baby Goblin, heaving sighs, knows that boogying’s unwise: squishing’s likely, being small. Baby Goblin hugs the wall.
Cider simmers in a pot, sweetly spicy, piping hot! Tempting taste relieves the chill— Trembling fingers almost spill… Uh-oh! Slipping! Tipping! Crash! Baby Goblin makes a splash.
Many fingers point her way— Mama Goblin saves the day. “Someone should be safe abed, but tonight, let’s dance instead.” Tucked in Mama’s arms, she spins; Baby Goblin grins and grins.
A year ago, right around now, a friend of mine died tragically and unexpectedly. He was a gentle, lanky, funny person, who loved haiku, photography, and martial arts, which he whimsically referred to as ‘slicing the sky with a stick.’ (And cutting the occasional pumpkin with a sword, especially this time of year.) The skies around town have been showing off particularly well this week–I like to think that they’re turning out some autumnal best in honor of his memory as well.
Orange and green leaves on a maple tree glow in full afternoon sunlight against a clear blue sky. Photo by me, October 2024
Autumn winds whip trees, dropping twigs, leaves, and one stick perfect to slice the sky.
Happy Autumn, everyone! I love this time of year, from the changing leaves to the brisk wind to the fun of spooky season. The return of cooler weather always feels like new beginnings, with that whiff of freshly sharpened pencils from the start of school.
Longtime readers will notice that I’ve done a bunch of revamping of the website design–there will be more to come in the near future, so if you have any reactions or suggestions, please drop me a line in the comments or on the snazzy new ‘contact‘ page.
Walking my neighborhood in fall is so restorative. Photo by me. Image description: view of a placid pond lined with autumn trees, with lilypads and rocks in the foreground under a blue sky with wispy clouds.
While I’m working on bringing this site back to life, you can also find me elsewhere on the web. I left Twitter quite a while ago, and tried out some other options. I do have a (mostly quiescent) Mastodon account, but I’ve found Bluesky to be the best Twitter replacement and am enjoying the SFF and kidlit communities growing there, though I miss a lot of my museum people from my other life. If you’re on there, let me know! My feed on Bluesky is currently a lot of literature and politics, with forays into geeking out about things like NASA and museums etc. I’m also still intermittently using Instagram, posting mostly nature and museum photos, occasionally with short poems as captions, and infrequent pictures of my kids being adorable, shot in such a way as to protect their privacy.
What else am I up to?
Writing: Lots of editing: I have several stories I’m polishing for hopeful submission to short fiction speculative markets this month and next, as well as some kidlit, including the upcoming Halloweensie contest and some pieces I’m prepping for pitching/querying. I always try to give a little new writing time each month to the Rattle Ekphrasis challenge, and I do have some ideas about this month’s image, so that’s on the list as well.
Reading: I’ve been loving the Wayward Children series by Seanan McGuire and I think I’m finally up to the most recent book in the series, which I’m looking forward to starting soon. I’m currently reading Emily Wilde’s Encyclopaedia of Fairies, and enjoying it so far. My TBR is an astonishing pile, and in addition to the ‘grown-up’ books is also currently stuffed with a number of recommended picture books from the recent Picture Book Summit writing conference. All of which is a nice balance to my daily diet of currently too much political news and the always excellent historical context provided by Heather Cox Richardson.
Listening: Writing Excuses is, as always, busy being brilliant, and I am many episodes behind, so I’ve been trying to catch up whenever I get a few minutes. Also, HAIM. Who I discovered courtesy of Sesame Street, and everyone who didn’t tell me that they are apparently the female equivalent to modern-day Hanson are now all fired, because this is fun music and I could have been listening to them for months before now.
Life in General: In non-writing news I’ll be looking forward to reviewing grant applications for the Sharon Cultural Council in a week or two, in my new role as council co-chair, and we’ve got some fun planned for the Halloween season both as a family and in my role as a classroom parent for Small Museum Fan #1’s class. Do you have a good Halloween costume planned? Tell me all about it!
It’s that time of year again! I’m participating in the kidlit contest, Fall Writing Frenzy, which is this year hosted over on Lydia Lukidis’s blog. I was inspired by the image below, and the challenge is to write a story in 200 words (!!), for any age reader, board book through YA. Check out the amazing judges and prize donors for the contest here.
A pile of black pumpkins Credit: Unsplash via Leandra Rieger
The Patchwork Pumpkin Patch
Nighttime in the pumpkin patch, where nobody was cheery. “Always the same!” the gourds proclaimed. “Orange is so dreary!” “No complaints,” the scarecrow huffed, “Honestly, what’s the use? Orange can never be cyan, chartreuse or even puce.” “We could! We will!” the pumpkins cried. “Who knows ‘til we try it?” Whereupon some warty sorts turned amethyst and violet. The scarecrow appeared gobsmacked, with cheeks flaming scarlet; giddy, giggling pumpkins sported ruby, plum, and garnet.
Come morning, pumpkin-hunters surveyed the startling scene: which bedazzling gourd would illuminate Halloween? Some rejoiced at rose, or jived with midnight shades, many vibrant pumpkins left, but many others stayed. “You know,” said one, “today was fun, exploring something strange, but I’m done with celadon—to orange now I’ll change.”
Across the patch murmurs arose; some argued, some agreed. “What if,” the scarecrow offered, “everyone picks the hue they need? If your heart is truly turquoise, then turquoise you should stay, but if you’re more champagne-inclined, that’s equally okay. Nobody should hide away the truths that make them glow, which seems to me something jack-o-lanterns ought to know.” Today the patchwork patch proclaims with multicolored cheer: Let your outsides match your insides all throughout the year.
Sea Dreams and Time Machines 
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