Noisy Vocabulary

For those of you who enjoy words of the day… here’s a fun one!

CACOPHONY

School age kids love Chapter 14 of Otis Goes to School.  Midway through the chapter, Otis follows his expert olfactory tracker along the trail of the alluring scent of chicken nuggets and fresh baked cornbread.  Throwing all concerns of remaining undiscovered on his Schooldays investigations, he gobbles up tasty morsels of carelessly dropped lunch crumbs and blows his own cover, much to the glorious shock of a lunchroom full of chatty children:

“The news of a dog in School had spread to the other tables, and the cafeteria cacophony had become an uproarious frenzy.”

Much of the fun of Otis Goes to School is inseparably and entertainingly mingled with the introduction of new words to young readers… exciting words, silly words, fun-to-say words, imagination-stretching words.  To tell a story is one thing, but to tell it with words that catch the reader by surprise and invite them to know more–that is literature.

It is my hope that Otis Goes to School will become a part of the beautiful scores of children’s literature that seamlessly blend reading into the fabric of their personalities, and make them reach for more.

Be sure you are ready for reading with your favorite Otis bookmark, free with any book purchase!

Be sure you are ready for reading with your favorite Otis bookmark, free with any book purchase!

Otis the Mustang – Part TWO

Following our fine experiences as Chapel guests of the Lipscomb Academy pre-K/K and third grade Book Day readers (click here for Otis the Mustang, Part ONE), we found ourselves welcomed with a perfect poster and sweeping seas of smiles by the seriously sensational second graders (Don’t you love alliteration?  I do, dearly, for double the delight and dazzle… click here for more Vocabulary of Otis.).

Welcome, Otis!

Welcome, Otis!

The absolutely fantastic Mrs. Lankford of second grade made us feel quite at home… and a homecoming, indeed, it was, as our oldest is a graduate of her class.  If every elementary ankle-biter could experience a Mrs. Lankford, somewhere along the way of their schooling, well… this world would just be a finer place all together!  She inspired Chapter 16, near the end of the book, because my oldest was wrapping up his second grade year with her when I completed the manuscript for Otis Goes to School.

All four classes of second grade, and all their amazing teachers, filed into our hostess’s classroom.  They spotted the star–Otis, of course–and there was immediate mutual love between these children and this canine.  After a little background about creative writing, book planning and production, and the sentimental history of Otis, we dove into two of the chapters between the front and back covers of Otis Goes to School.

Hands of the sensational sea of second graders!

Hands of the sensational sea of second graders!

I chose Chapter 13, “Pond-Dog,” for this bunch.  There is a particular water feature around which the happenings of this chapter take place, and it sits just behind the second grade classrooms, so I knew Otis’s discoveries thereabout would prove extra special, and would ring that bell of familiarity with ease and recognizable description.

And just as I suspected, they did not disappoint.  They recognized the pond immediately, and that perfect likeness to Otis therein, as well.

Otis sat, and then stood, and then sat and stood again, and Pond-Dog did the same. Otis panted and sneeze-barked, and snorted a friendly hello, and Pond-Dog did the same. A lovely water-butterfly danced in the air just above Pond-Dog’s ears, and much to his surprise when he looked up, there was a Monarch dancing above his own ears! Otis watched his cotton-ball clouds float to the east, and noticed the pond-clouds did the same. He wondered if they eventually met somewhere far away on the horizon, wherever it is that clouds go.

“…wherever it is that clouds go.” Ahhh, these little ones, they went right along with us, searching our imaginations for those very clouds.  We deeply enjoyed all the interest and intensity these second graders exuded.  For the Lipscomb set, they might just take the cake for “most into-the-story!”

Of course, we topped it off with Chapter 14, “Lunch.”  And good timing, because that’s just what they were ready for!

Distracted from his stealthy-ness by his newfound buffet line, Otis brushed against the legs of the cornbread girl, and his soft fur tickled her knees. She lowered her head and peered under the table, still laughing along with her friends, and spotted Otis, who paused with a deer-in-the-headlight expression.

“A dog!” the girl called loudly to her friend. “Y’all look at the dog under the table!”

And they all swiveled and twisted on their stools to crouch down for a better look, raising the noise-level all the while.

“Oh my, it IS a dog!” one girl exclaimed.

“He’s cute!” another declared. Well that was surely a nice thing to say.

“Dude, that’s awesome–a dog in School. Hey, feed him my carrots!” a goofy boy insisted, holding down a bright orange carrot between his finger and thumb.

“Hey, that’s that dog that hangs out the window every afternoon in the pick-up line!”

“Naw, can’t be, somebody tell the teachers…”

“Here boy, have a nugget!”

Otis grabbed the carrot and the nugget and kept moving forward under the table. Yep, he had been discovered, but it was worth it. Lunch had been spectacular. Students petted him and scratched his ears as he stepped over feet and lunchboxes. The commotion had drawn the attention of the teachers at this point, but it was nearly impossible to contain the excitement of children who had just found a big black dog under their lunch table.

There were squeals and hollering and he knew he heard his name several times. More food appeared under the table, served in the palms of chuckling children. “That’s Otis!” someone insisted…

See you in the pick-up line, second-grade.  You are always the BEST at waving to Otis in the afternoons.  He’s extra happy and shows off that polka-dotted pant in a large way when you greet him coming around that curve.

Mrs. Lankford's 2014 second graders!

Mrs. Lankford’s 2014 second graders!

Otis enjoyed every second of the second grade’s petting.

To the First Grade!

And less than 24 hours later, we were welcomed into the first grade classrooms, and into the extra huggable arms of these bright and dear young ones.  You do know, first grade is training ground for the best huggers of the future.  I don’t remember when I’ve received better hugs than in first grade classrooms.  These students are still the age of love in its most pure, childlike form, and they give it freely to those who look upon them with likewise admiration and appreciation (…and they do admire alliteration!).

Perhaps all the hugs are why these teachers smile so easily, so readily, even (perhaps, especially) upon the little learners who might challenge the very patience of Job with their wiggly-ness and unable-to-stop-talking-for-one-blessed-moment-ness.  There are first graders who follow the playbook as though life depends upon successful tippy-toeing between the clearly explained bylaws of first grade.  And then… and then… they are those who run haphazardly through the bylaws, past all the exceptions and clear into the unchartered territory of the first grader’s inquisitively insistent, “…but why?” (Thank you to my children’s Uncle LaGard Smith, for that succinct yet ridiculously accurate two-word summation of the ever wondering six-year-old’s favorite question.)

How do I know, you ask?  Let’s just say, the blessing of raising three children (three vastly different little Bramletts, who artfully resemble each other in looks, yet somehow encompass the full spectrum of personality possibilities within this gene pool) comes with the revelation that truly, no two children are alike, nor should they be.  They definitely approach the playbook from all angles.  And first-grade-caliber hugs help smooth those angles, no doubt here.

How else do I know?  It might be duly noted that Yours Truly, when in first grade, loved school deeply, and was often ready with some profound (wink) answer and exuberantly raised hand… it is possible that said hand might have been waving rapidly back and forth with ferocious first-grade fervor, and that the thumb and tall-man finger may have been snapped a time or two (or three) to grab my dear Mrs. Snellgrove’s attention, so that the enlightened answer/revelation/story might gush forth from the two little pink inward-squeezed lips of this overly excited only-child who scoffed at by-laws and exceptions where spotlight was available.  But I gave great hugs, and Mrs. Snellgrove was always smiling!  

Yours Truly, sometime around my first grade year.

Yours Truly, sometime around my first grade year.

(Thank you for your patience, Mrs. Snellgrove!)

First graders are exceedingly different and beautiful, but they all hug with wild abandon, with tremendous gusto… and with some pretty strong muscles, too, I might add!  These first graders lived up to their high heights of huggability, and ended our 2014 Lipscomb Academy visits with love to last us through the summer.

We were hosted by the very sweet, very gentle and dear Mrs. Woodard, who blessed our oldest two children with her knack for encouraging young readers, her soft voice, and her ever-caring gaze upon the lot of those under her tutelage.  Her wonderful, fellow hugged-to-the-max teachers and all the first graders joined us for a reading of the Spring volume of Ella and the Little Red Wagon (quite special, since this was a visit to our very own Ella’s classroom and grade) and Chapter 12, of Otis Goes to School: “The Spelling Test.”

This chapter is based on Mrs. Woodard and her classroom specifically, so these darlings followed right along with all the rituals of the spelling test described… all the knee-bouncing, eraser-to-the-forehead thinking, the clock ticking, the bottom-lip-biting and uplifting teacher-given winks of encouragement.  They were right there with me, right there with Otis as he reassures Chapter 12’s first-grader in his spelling of the last word of the test… “DOG.”

Otis was glad the word had not been CAT, as he would have been no help there.

The first graders!

The first graders!

I was so happy to know that just about all these students were ready to get to work on their own stories, their own written adventures of imagination.  They also shared much with us about their own dogs and other pets who resemble Otis.  And the beauty in that strong compulsion to share the first thought that comes along is the innocent and immediate reminder that children of this age have their worlds before them.  They are sitting at start, fumbling for their own sets of keys to the ignition of imagination, and all their engines are Formula-One-worthy.  Their potential is boundless, untold and yet-to-be.

That’s why they hug with all their might… because they don’t know “can’t.”

It’s a great thing not to know the meaning of the word, “can’t.”  Personally, and in my house, it’s the equivalent of a forbidden four-letter word.  “Can’t,” just provokes me, really, and I’m sure my patient husband–who would make Job proud–would agree wholeheartedly.  To me, “can’t,” evokes the opposing response of, “wanna bet?”

Actually, the more typical response of this author to the atrocious contraction, “can’t,” is more along the lines of a raised right eyebrow, an ever-so-slight smile with a set jaw and hidden, clenched teeth, nose flared in the fashion of family decent, eyes flashing and scarcely squinted, excessively focused and bluer than before the inherent challenge.  I think my husband concurrently shows both eyebrows raised high to wrinkle his concerned forehead, a gritted smile in the oh-boy-here-it-comes fashion, and a tense oh-man-what-path-are-we-about-to-embark-upon sensation.  It always works out swimmingly, though, because “can’t,” just won’t do.

These first graders have the right idea.  Keep hugging with all your heart and might.

Keep answering that call to tell your own tale, and tell it well (don’t forget your adjectives!).

Never learn the meaning of the word, “can’t.”  Step right over it, because you can.

Otis time is special time.

Otis time is special time.

I look forward to keeping up with all the Mustangs.  And I can hardly wait to see how you’ve all grown by next year.  It’s summertime, so I’m hoping your adventures are laying ground to stories you’ll share with me, upon our next gathering together.

To all of the Lipscomb Academy teachers who invited me, my husband, our dog, family and book into your classrooms, bless you and thank you.  Thank you all for what you do everyday, for showing up with excitement, for inspiring our children, for being everything that you are to your own families and then pulling even more from your hearts to share with your students and all their families.  Our experiences with your students shall be forever treasured, keeping our hearts full with happy thoughts.

And selfishly, we can’t help but hope for more of the same.

God bless you Mustangs, as you have all greatly blessed us.  Have a summerload of fun!

 

Two of my sweets: Robert and Otis.

Two of my sweets: Robert and Otis.

 

For more excerpts from Otis Goes to School, click here!

To find out how/where you can purchase a book or schedule an appearance, click here!

UPDATE: Here’s a couple of treasures given to me by students after our first grade visit… I love the artwork, and the thought behind the stories!  Thank you to Scout and Esme for sharing your talents with me!  I’ll treasure them always.

Thank you for the colorful picture, Esme!

Thank you for the colorful picture, Esme!

 

Great story, Scout!  I love the way you describe your day with Ella at school.  I know you have fun!

Great story, Scout! I love the way you describe your day with Ella at school. I know you have fun!

 

Otis the Mustang — Part ONE

*Please click here for Otis the Mustang — Part TWO, the second and first grades.*

Lipscomb Academy–to which my family still fondly refers as David Lipscomb, to pay homage to the school’s history as well as my sweet husband’s “Lifer” status (K-College)–has all but made a Mustang out of the certain canine for which this site is particularly designed to promote.

This spring found Otis at many an elementary school, even more than once at a couple of them… and Lipscomb invited Otis to visit almost every grade!  He made appearances for the pre-K and Kindergartners, and the 1st – 3rd grades.  The only students we missed were the pre-1st students (most of whom met Otis last year when he visited the Kindergarten), and the 4th graders (who all met Otis at last year’s Book Day).  Needless to say, though say it we must… Otis feels right at home in the classrooms of the Brewer Campus of Lipscomb Academy (David Lipscomb Campus School, for the Mustangs who go back that far.).

All dressed... white fur tie in place under the Lipscomb jersey, of course.

All dressed… white fur tie in place under the Lipscomb jersey, of course.

Of course, Lipscomb is quite special to our family, and to the book, Otis Goes to School.  After all, the chapters describe the very walls and halls of the building, the trees of the playgrounds, and even the goldfish pond behind the second grade classrooms.

When Otis goes for a ride to gather the two oldest of his three favorite children, it’s the Lipscomb pick-up line he knows best.  It’s the scents of lunch from waving hands and post-P.E. students that he recognizes.  He knows the security guards and teachers, and when to brace for the sharp turn to enter/exit the parking lot.  Lipscomb is another home for this dog, and because we live so close, he can probably smell it with his expert olfactory tracker from his very own backyard.

So we thoroughly enjoyed all the familiar faces (and new ones as well) that we saw at our first spring visit to Lipscomb: pre-K and Kindergarten Chapel!  Because this set was much younger, and because this was time set aside for a message sharing God’s love and creation, we read from the Ella and the Little Red Wagon series.  It being spring, we of course chose the Spring volume.

Ella and the Little Red Wagon - SPRING COVER

Ella and the Little Red WagonSpring (Not yet in stores, but coming soon!)

Lucky for me, my Ella’s first grade teacher let her tag along and introduce the book (and Otis) to the nearly 80 students present that day.  The little ones loved making the connection between a character in a book, and their real-life versions right in front of them.

The Ella series is all about discovering God’s world around us. With Otis as her faithful sidekick, Ella finds outdoor treasures of all sizes and shapes, and gathers them in her wagon.  She finds that these gems are sent to us as little reminders of the current season, and how much care God puts into each detail.

Ahhh… if He puts such focus into the tiniest of dappled freckles in the center of the tulip, or the dash of red on the robin’s breast, or the perfect pop of yellow on the bumblebee’s stripes, then how much–oh, how very much–love and attention and care He must put into each one of us.

No doubt, Ella’s favorite treasure in the book is Otis, so she gives him a ride in the wagon, too… a point certainly not lost on our very sharp and attentive pre-K/K audience.

We also read from Hello World, and remembered the importance of noticing everything around us.  It is most refreshing to see through the eyes of the youngest readers… these wide-eyed, clean-canvassed little thinkers.  Our youngest son, now age 3, says “Hello,” to everything… “Hello airplane, hello school bus, hello cloud… hello, Otis!”  Therein lies the inspiration for this picture book.

Hello World Book Cover

Hello World (Not yet in stores, but also coming soon.)

HW pgs34-35

Oh, these pre-k/K-ers had such wonderful questions!  We chatted about how to make a book, how to put all the pieces together, how to know what to write about, and when the story is finished.  We talked about Otis, and his history before joining our family.  And we talked, of course, about writing our own stories.

Who has a story?  Who has an imagination?  That’s right, littlest Lipscomb darlings… just like Haywood and St. Paul and Judson realized… we ALL do.  And I thank you so much for being a part of mine!

We made it into the grades' newsletter for May, put together by the teacher who so graciously invited us to speak in Chapel, Mrs. Austin!

We made it into the grades’ newsletter for May, put together by the teacher who so graciously invited us to speak in Chapel, Mrs. Austin!

 

The children were so patient and tender with Otis, and he loved every moment of lovin' these students could share!

The children were so patient and tender with Otis, and he loved every moment of lovin’ these students could share!

THANK YOU to the Mustang pre-K and Kindergarten classes!!  We had a wonderful morning with you, and we hope you’ll have us back next year!

***

THIRD GRADE BOOK DAY

Numerically speaking, 1st grade would come next… but Otis made the leap to third grade for the calendar’s sake.  For the second year in a row, we were invited to speak and read for Lipscomb Academy’s Third Grade Book Day!  This year was extra special, because our oldest son, Paul Kent, was an official third grader.  Students and teachers celebrate the day by dressing as their favorite storybook character, and my boy went as “himself.”  He is, after all, the “oldest boy” in Otis Goes to School.

Another reason for the extra special-ness of the day is that last year, when I read this book to the then-third graders, it was in the form of a 3-ring binder.  I had written the full manuscript in ink/pencil/crayon/marker–whatever I could grab that would write at the time–and I typed it into my computer, printed it out, punched holes with my lawyer-husband’s three-hole punch, clicked the rings closed, slapped a title page on the front and made my way as a fledgling author with tummy butterflies and a here-goes-everything approach, to my first appearance at Book Day.

Last year's Third Grade Book Day (2013)... a helpful parent keeps Otis in check while he gets his first dose of lovin' as a real life storybook character.

Last year’s Third Grade Book Day (2013)… a helpful parent keeps Otis in check while he gets his first dose of lovin’ as a real life storybook character.

This year, I was able to show the students a real book.  I held in my hands many months of work, of late hours, of doing and redoing and scrapping and re-redoing until the cover was just right.  I held in my hands the finished product of last year’s infant of a book, in its cradle of a binder closed with crossed fingers, hopes and prayers.  Last year’s third graders are this year’s seniors of the elementary school, and I remember them listening intently, responding to the character of Otis, and high-fiving me in the halls for the remainder of last spring, saying, “Hey, you read about Otis to us!  Is it in the library yet?”

Those comments encouraged me forth, and made me unable to hide a smile that foretells what I do hope for: that this book, all my books-in-the-works and books-to-be-thought-of, might be in that library, in libraries everywhere, in bookstores everywhere, in homes around the world, and most importantly for my children’s books, at home in the hands of a little one learning to follow the call of his or her imagination.

I brought the 3-ring binder and the finished, bookstore-ready copy to share with this year’s third grade… my oldest sitting close beside, my supportive husband keeping Otis calm, and my sweet girl beaming at being included in big brother’s class event (Preston was having a big time on a playdate with a pal, having had plenty of personal Otis-time before breakfast). Joy, it was, to hold proof in hand (there’s the lawyer in me) that hard work really does what the old saying indicates… it pays off.  It makes a difference.  It means everything.

Thank you, Mrs. Sanders and all the third grade teachers and students, for inviting us to return to Third Grade Book Day!  I’m hoping to share something brand new next year, if you’ll have us back!

This year's Third Grade Book Day (2014).  Now this is a bunch of characters!

This year’s Third Grade Book Day (2014). Now this is a bunch of characters!

Pre-K/K and Third Grade Book Day… Otis was just getting started!  There’s more?  Why of course, there’s always more in the experience of the long-winded writer.  Second and first grade stories are coming up… in that very order.

Please click here for PART TWO of Otis the Mustang, the second and first grades.

 

The Jewels of Haywood Elementary School — Part II

Otis was overcome with anticipation (and a clear need for even more loving) as we prepared for our second visit to the fabulous Haywood Elementary School.

(Click here for the Part I recap of our first visit.)

To Haywood we go!

To Haywood we go!

Upon our arrival, the ever-gracious, awesome teacher, Miss Jan Crowder, welcomed us to her familiarly colorful, inviting classroom, where we were consumed with hugs and giant smiles, like friends of a lifetime.  And by now, we are!

For this trip, we brought a small entourage… my husband and perfect partner-in-adventure (Robert), my daughter (Ella), my oldest son (Paul Kent), his very cool pal (Noah), and of course, Otis and me.  I could hardly wait to introduce my new friends from around the world to my crew.  It would be a great morning, I just knew it!

Reunions and Introductions! From left, top row: Musharaf, Ella, Miss Crowder, Paul Kent, me, Noah and Robert. From left, bottom row: Fatema, Martin, Omina, Shing, Rayan, and Otis!

Reunions and Introductions!
From left, top row: Musharaf, Ella, Miss Crowder, Paul Kent, me, Noah and Robert.
From left, bottom row: Fatema, Martin, Omina, Shing, Rayan, and Otis!

We arrived a tad bit early, for we wanted some special moments with Miss Crowder and her class.  I wanted each child to know how much I will always treasure their stories they wrote for me. (See Part I)

Would Rayan feel calm in petting Otis this time?

Would Martin’s smile make my heart jump again?

Had Shing learned even more English skills?

Would Omina’s eager eyes still be sparkling?

And sweet Musharaf… would he be afraid of Otis…?

And what about Fatema, who had been absent during our first visit… could we meet her?

All in a whirlwind of introductions and how-are-you’s, my wonderings were answered: Rayan’s confidence glowed… had he grown already?

Martin smiled, and my heart jumped and melted all at the same time.

Shing carried my basket of books and chatted like an old chum.

Omina met me with arms outstretched, full of compliments and stars flashing in her eyes.

Musharaf… no fear, my friend… no fear!  He approached Otis with bravery, hand outstretched, petting him with a gradual crescendo’s release of a boy’s love, like droplet after droplet of waters pushing on the gates of a dam, bursting open because they cannot hold tides that flow forth to drown fears.

And Fatema from the country of Jordan, a pleasure to meet, charmed us with immediate friendship and her outgoing personality.

This world-class family of students and their beloved Miss Crowder led us outside to Haywood’s amphitheater, where 200 first graders and their teachers awaited our arrival!

A sea of oooo's and ahhh's from Haywood's wonderful first graders, anxious for Otis to take the stage!

A sea of oooo’s and ahhh’s from Haywood’s wonderful first graders, anxious for Otis to take the stage!

Where to begin, with 200 wiggly first graders?  ADJECTIVES!  We talked about our great big minds, and our own singularly awesome yarns that we weave with every choice we make. A plane or two flew overhead, and we talked about how HIGH and BIG and FAST and LOUD it was, and how WIDE its wings were.

Who has an imagination?  Who has a story?  That’s right… WE ALL DO!

Both hands up... our imaginations are THAT big!

Both hands up… our imaginations are THAT big!

After revealing the story of how Otis came to our family (see Ancestry of Otis), and how the book came to be (see Synopsis), we read a chapter from Otis Goes to School: “The Playground.”  This particular passage finds Otis knee-deep in his secret school days investigations, observing his best girl on the kindergarten playground.  She is Queen of the Clover for the day, sporting a crown of clover blossoms tied by her maids of merriment.  (And off to my right, another clover queen with a chocolate brown ponytail and a baby blue shirt patiently listened and tied her own crown together… you can see the beginnings of it streaming down from her right hand, in the bottom left of the picture above.)

We read about Otis taking his own turn to zoom down the slide, catching playground zephyrs (see Vocabulary of Otis) in his flapping lips, landing with pride and pomp and circumstance befitting a Clover King, smiling all the way.  We applauded each other, promised to keep dreaming and to put our summer stories to paper, and asked and answered a string of thoughtful, intriguing questions.  This crowd brought their A-game!

And then, they formed a sight that I will always recall with amazement… in Otis Goes to School, Otis observes a “winding caterpillar” of kindergartners moving together in a line, to and from the playground.  On this day, at Haywood Elementary, that very phenomenon came to be, with Otis at the front of the line this time…

That's a lot of loving for one special dog who just happens to deserve all the petting these precious children had to give.

That’s a lot of loving for one special dog, who just happens to deserve all the petting these precious children had to give.

IMG_8165

Kids always love to pet Otis, and they love Robert's laugh!  Lots of love, just all the way around.

Kids always love to pet Otis, and they love Robert’s laugh! Lots of love, just all the way around.

These 1st graders were naturally, easily, abundantly friendly and happy.  They high five’d with gusto, hugged without holding back, and shared the light of the world with me and my crew.  By the end of our visit, I had heard from quite a considerable majority of the students that their summer plans now include storytelling and writing, and reading about Otis!  That’s a music-to-my-ears way to end a school visit.

I expect wild creativity and plots that ring true for untarnished young hearts.

I expect the final point of punctuation to be positioned post-tale with pride and purpose.

I expect a lot, because these kids can do it.  These children have a fantastic fire within, and they have the ability to follow their own “what if’s.”

Write on, Haywood 1st graders; write to your heart’s content, with all the adjectives you can conjure up, and then… oh please, and then… do let me read your stories!

And of course, lunchtime called again.  We stretched our goodbyes back through the halls, past several grades’ worth of winding caterpillars, through the front office and out to the parking lot.

IMG_3216IMG_3219Before coming to Haywood, I had no idea what a jewel was tucked into a quiet little Nashville neighborhood.  There is something special about this school, something vibrant and so alive. There is worth and promise and love and lots and lots of good in this school.  There was a display of appreciation for others amongst these students.  They saw their similarities before their differences… and the differences they observed, it seemed they celebrated.  Would that their unintended example be a pattern for us as adults, for our country, for our leaders and the leaders of this world that is so near completely represented within the walls of Haywood…

To see through the eyes of a child, to love with the boundless capacity of a child… we are all born with those gifts.  If we seek the most beautiful words we can find, put them to use in telling our stories, and listen to others as they craft their own, we will experience the kind of joy that lives and breathes and beats in the hearts of Haywood.

Haywood CollageI am so thankful that Haywood is a bright new thread in my ever-lengthening yarns.  I hope that the fall season finds us making plans for more fun together.

But for now… I wish you the greatest, most fun-filled, adventure-packed, water-park-ing-est, popcorn-and-movies-and-bicycles-and-ice-cream-and-firefly-catching-and-porch-sittin’-and-tall-tale-ing-est summer of all!  And you can write.that.down.

THANK YOU HAYWOOD!

THANK YOU HAYWOOD!

(Please click here to read Part I of The Jewels of Haywood Elementary School) 

 

 

The Jewels of Haywood Elementary School — Part I

Otis has been around the world today!

Better stated… today, Otis was loved and hugged and smooched and squeezed by children from all over this planet, right here in the heart of Nashville.  Today, we visited Haywood Elementary School, for the second time in two weeks (Click here for the Part II recap).

On both trips, we were met with such love, such excitement and interest.

On both trips, we made beautiful new friends.

On both trips, we were blessed.

For a mere peek into the remarkable wonders of Haywood, read forth…

Our first visit to Haywood Elementary School, visiting with Miss Jan Crowder's 1st and 2nd graders, for whom English is a second language.  What precious children, and what a loving teacher!

Our first visit to Haywood Elementary School, visiting with Miss Jan Crowder’s 1st and 2nd graders, for whom English is a second language. What precious children, and what a loving teacher!

The photograph above includes children from Egypt, Burma, Somalia, Iraq and Uzbekistan! (The country of Jordan is also represented, but the student from Jordan was home sick on this day.  She is in Part II of this story though, back and well for our second visit!)

Miss Jan Crowder and her class greeted us with graceful manners, helpful hands, and promising imaginations.  We gathered in the cozy library, and read aloud the Spelling Test chapter, together.

They sat close… some close enough to reach a fingertip to pet Otis while they listened.

They scooted closer… close enough to share impromptu hugs with me, and exuberant smiles certainly drawn by the unparalleled hands of God above.

They looked right into my eyes, because they are so curious, so ready for knowledge, so honest and innocent to worldly concerns, even though they represent just that: the world.

One smiling boy touched Otis, and jumped back, testing and conquering his own apprehension.

One brown-eyed fellow beamed joy and happiness with a darling grin that I won’t forget.

One studious chap followed along, word-for-word, showing his skill in mastering English.

One pretty, smart girl bounced around me with delight and zest for life.

One precious child kept a distance from Otis, his fear of dogs shown on his face. (Remember this boy… I’ll return to him momentarily.)

Such patience and interest in these darlings!

Such patience and interest in these darlings!

Eyes-to-eyes and heart-to-heart.

Eyes-to-eyes and heart-to-heart.

We talked about our imaginations and our own stories.  We talked about adjectives and the power of descriptive words.  We celebrated the fact that all of our stories are different, and all worth telling with the most beautiful words we can muster.

Lunchtime scents finally found their ways into the halls, signaling the end of our time together.  After all the hugs we could fit into our affectionate goodbyes, we parted ways for the day, their promises of telling their own unique stories, echoing in my mind.

Otis was happy with all the loving of the morning, and I was touched by the connection Miss Crowder had with this class that she so expertly fashioned into a family.  She found herself at the beginning of the school year with the world’s children at her feet, and six different language barriers between them.  Such hurdles are no match for Miss Crowder’s dedication, devotion and true love for these youngsters.

And now… these students and their teacher–this family–moves as one unit, with respect and patience and order, with manners and politeness, with concern and time for each other… all with beautiful English and ambition for excellence!  Like polished jewels of the earth, these students reflect the care Miss Crowder brings from her heart, every single day, and I could see that they were all blessings to each other.  To be included in the morning’s study with this class was a gift, for Otis and for me.

Only a few days later, Miss Crowder hand-delivered those promised stories to me.  I was speechless, holding true treasures in my hands.

"I love you Otis."

“I love you Otis.”

"I like Otis. I like Mrs. Ashley."

“I like Otis.
I like Mrs. Ashley.”

"Otis is smart. Otis is good smell."

“Otis is smart.
Otis is good smell.”

"Otis is smart. He can hear you. He is good dog. Otis is best dog."

“Otis is smart. He can hear you. He is good dog. Otis is best dog.”

And from the little fellow who was afraid… he rose above that fear, just as the twinkle in his eye promised he would.  Fear, to anyone, is a hindrance.  But to a child, an 8-year old, in a faraway country, nowhere near his Somalian home, communicating in his second language, already overcoming so much… a fear could be paralyzing.  This boy paused before his fear, calculated his own source of courage, and waited patiently while it swelled within his lion’s heart.

Though he did not need to apologize for his apprehension around dogs, he did, within his handwritten story (below).  I smiled with a furrowed brow when I read his words.  If I could just reach through his sentiments with a hug and assurance that I understood, and to tell him not to fret…

I would get that chance, in fact.

"I love Otis so much. I want to be friends Otis. I want to say I'm sorry because I was afraid."

“I love Otis so much.
I want to be friends Otis.
I want to say I’m sorry because I was afraid.”

Needless to say, Otis and I could hardly wait to return to Haywood Elementary.

Click here to read further about the Jewels of Haywood Elementary School — Part II200 1st graders and no fears in sight!

Reminiscing the 2014 Alabama Book Festival

It was only three weeks ago, and we’ve been busy since then, but we are so delighted about and thankful for our one-of-a-kind experiences as a part of the 9th Annual Alabama Book Festival, last month on April 19, 2014.  I promised a recap and details, and now that I have the photographs all together, I’m thrilled to share our remembrances with you.

What a day; what a day, indeed!  It was sunny and pleasant for the Festival down in Montgomery, Alabama, a welcome change from the chilly soaking in which we arrived the day before.

My handsome husband, Robert, and I jumped right in to the weekend’s activities after unpacking at the hotel and crossing our fingers for the rain to stop.  My “appointed big sister,” Suellen (see previous post, Writing from Gratitude), and her beautiful daughter, Abigail, graciously came to babysit our three little ones, and treated them to a fun night of pillow-and-blanket forts and relentless spoiling.

Robert and I were invited guests of the Governor and Mrs. Bentley, next door to the Governor’s Mansion, at the Author Party inside the elegantly antebellum John Blue Hill House.  What a beautiful spread, all planned by Mr. Bob McLain (Executive Director, Old Alabama Town) and the sweet and precious Ms. Heather Hannah (Mansion Affairs and Assistant to the First Lady), featuring amazing company, delicious hors d’oeuvres, and a chance to discuss all things literary.  It was a night I’ll not forget!

Pictured:  Top Row, L to R: Alabama Governor's Mansion, John Blue Hill House Middle Row, L to R: Director of Mansion Affairs and Assistant to the First Lady, Heather Hannah and me; Signing a copy of "Otis Goes to School," to my home state of Alabama; A double selfie with the fellow who makes me my best self, my husband, Robert. Bottom Row, L to R: Robert and me with Pulitzer Prize author nominee and Mississippi native, Clifton Taubert; Making a little history with Otis Goes to School at the Governor's Mansion

Pictured:
Top Row, L to R: Alabama Governor’s Mansion; John Blue Hill House.
Middle Row, L to R: Director of Mansion Affairs and Assistant to the First Lady, Heather Hannah and me; Signing a copy of Otis Goes to School, to my home state of Alabama, to be a part of the First Lady’s reading initiative for young children; A double selfie with the fellow who makes me be my best self… my husband, Robert.
Bottom Row, L to R: Robert and me with Pulitzer Prize author nominee and Mississippi native, Clifton Taubert; Making a little history with Otis Goes to School at the Governor’s Mansion

After a short night of sleep, we all woke up to sunshine and high hopes as we packed the car for the 1/2 mile ride over to Old Alabama Town.  What an expertly maintained piece of living history!  We found ourselves in awe, in the setting of a 19th century village, surrounded by authentic, restored southern buildings and log cabins, a one-room schoolhouse, grapevine canopies, heritage rose borders and lush, dew-sparkled shade trees.

We were first on the list for the children’s author line-up, and we had such fun visiting with old friends, meeting new fans, and sharing Otis Goes to School with everyone.  It was a proud moment to see the book for sale with Capitol Book and News, the official bookseller of the Alabama Book Festival.

That's me and Otis, hearts filled with appreciation and excitement for our involvement in 2014's Book Festival.

That’s me and Otis, hearts filled with appreciation and excitement for our involvement in 2014’s Book Festival, and really enjoying being a part of Old Alabama Town.

It was a homecoming for me, as my roots run deep in Montgomery and Autauga Counties.  Cherished teachers of mine from Montgomery Academy came and brought hugs and smiles and welcome memories. Dear, dear friends, who have treated me like family since my own whippersnapper days, filled the audience and my heart with love.  Alma Mater classmates surprised me with their presence and their children, and new fans of Otis (human and canine!) emerged and hopped aboard this train, all throughout the day.

Pictured: Top Row L to R: Ella, my unforgettable 6th grade teacher, Mrs. Betty Saunders, her darling granddaughter, Claire, me, and my amazing third grade teacher, Mrs. Vivian Barfoot; a new young fan and her tiny and cute puppy, Romeo, me and Ella. Middle Row, L to R: Otis enjoys the love; my best-friend-of-all-time's family, the Winslows; With Montgomery's most fabulous friend of the arts, Jackie Berry. Bottom Row, L to R: My fellow Montgomery Academy classmate and friend, Lida Cunningham and her adorable Sarah; Signing a book to my dear Mrs. Barfoot... what an honor for me!

Pictured:
Top Row L to R: Ella, my unforgettable 6th grade teacher, Mrs. Betty Saunders, her darling granddaughter, Claire, me, and my amazing third grade teacher, Mrs. Vivian Barfoot; A new young fan and her tiny and cute puppy, Romeo, me and Ella.
Middle Row, L to R: Otis enjoys the love; My best-friend-of-all-time’s precious family, the Winslows; With Montgomery’s most fabulous friend of the arts, Jackie Berry.
Bottom Row, L to R: My fellow Montgomery Academy classmate and talented friend, Lida Cunningham Sease and her adorable Sarah; Signing a book to my dear Mrs. Barfoot… what an honor for me!

The Alabama Book Festival is an event for everyone.  There are book genres and authors to suit just about every taste and level of reading, delicious BBQ and tasty treats of all kinds, talented local artisans sharing their gifts… and who knew we would be rubbing elbows with the likes of SkippyJon Jones!  I’m so thankful that to pursue the success of Otis Goes to School, means that my children are involved in what I do.  You can see, they loved this day!  They especially enjoyed spending time with their beloved godparents, LaGard and Ruth Smith, who took charge with loving arms and their protective, caring presence, while mommy and daddy took the stage with Otis.

Pictured: Top Row, L to R: Preston and me with our children's godparents, author F. LaGard Smith and his truly lovely wife, Ruth; Paul Kent being sure folks know which book to buy! Middle Row, L to R: Paul Kent always has a smile for mommy; Paul Kent and Ella meet the one-and-only, SkippyJon Jones; Ella shows off her expert hula hooping skills in the children's area. Bottom Row, L to R: Smiley photo op with Ella and Preston; Paul Kent and Ella help carry mommy's book supplies; With my mom and longtime family friend and 5th grade Trinity Presbyterian teacher, Gidget Smith.

Pictured:
Top Row, L to R: Preston and me with our children’s godparents: acclaimed Christian author and Faulkner University/Jones School of Law Professor, F. LaGard Smith and his truly lovely wife, Ruth; Paul Kent being sure folks know which book to buy!
Middle Row, L to R: Paul Kent always has a smile for mommy; Paul Kent and Ella meet the one-and-only, SkippyJon Jones; Ella shows off her expert hula hooping skills in the children’s area.
Bottom Row, L to R: Smiley photo op with a face-painted Ella and giggly Preston; Paul Kent and Ella help carry mommy’s book supplies; With my mom and longtime family friend and 5th grade Trinity Presbyterian teacher, Gidget Smith.

My favorite moments are those when all of my family is involved.  After we had our third and last child, Preston, it became easier to refer to ourselves as the Bramlett Five, rather than listing all our names.  That reference stuck pretty well, and appropriately so, as we work as a team.  We made the choice, many adventures back, to do this life together.  Whatever challenges or celebrations come along to any one of us, we approach them together.  When one of us falls, there are four loyal sets of hands to pick him or her up and encourage the next try.  When one of us receives an accolade, you can bet there are four sets of similar hands applauding and calling for an encore.  And in all things, we pray together (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18).

Pictured: Top Row, L to R: Robert and me before the Author Party; My treasured Alabama Writers' Forum pin, commemorating my new status as an honorary Alabama writer. Bottom Row, L to R: The Bramlett Five, in front of the quite amazing one-room schoolhouse; In action with Robert and Otis (photograph courtesy of

Pictured:
Top Row, L to R: Robert and me before the Author Party; My treasured Alabama Writers’ Forum pin, commemorating my new status as an honorary Alabama writer.
Bottom Row, L to R: The Bramlett Five and Otis, in front of the one-room schoolhouse; In action at the author presentation with Robert and Otis (photograph courtesy of the Alabama Book Festival)

It can not go without mention that my Robert, just after the photo above, helped me with my author presentation.  The week before the Festival, I had a horrible sore throat and cough… wouldn’t you know, during my speech, that lingering cough decided to wake itself up and pay me a little surprise visit!  Upon an understood, mutual glance between us, Robert jumped right in to tell the tale of how Otis came to join our family after the Nashville floods of 2010, while I stepped aside to regain control of my vocal cords.

Definitely unscripted, it was the perfect reminder to me that whatever future is ahead for Otis Goes to School, and my path as an author, it is not a one-person show.  My family is my everything, and my Robert gives flight to my wildest dreams.

THANK YOU, to my family, my friends, the 2014 Alabama Book Festival Committee, Old Alabama Town, the Alabama Writers’ Forum, the Governor and First Lady of Alabama, their staff, and our new fans.  This was an auspicious day in the life of this author, and quite a moment of arrival for a Tennessee rescue pup with a polka-dotted tongue and white fur tie, named of course… Otis.

Writing from Gratitude

If you’ve read my previous blog posts, you know that one of my favorite facets of writing for children is getting to meet them and talk with them and find out what makes their hearts skip.  I’ve met so many precious little ones, of all ages, colors, creeds, attitudes, and economic backgrounds.  And wouldn’t you know, as God so masterfully planned, each one has his or her own story to tell… keep that in mind for a moment.

One of the most common questions I field is, “How did you get started writing?”

To be honest, I don’t really remember not writing.  It’s one of those loves that I toted along in my heart as I was born.  I reckon it’s as innate in me as is the blue of my eyes or my tendency to freckle, my Southern accent and my notably non-tall stature.  Weaving yarns, as I like to call it, has intrigued me since I could be whisked away in my grandaddy’s arms for an afternoon of spoiling and storytelling… since my daddy brought home history-in-the-making remembrances from his long-traveled roads as a network news cameraman… since my uncle’s underwater, trans-oceanic close calls and Navy experiences caught my undivided attention during conversational suppertime tale-swapping… and those days began in my earliest hours.

Grandaddy and me, around 1979, sittin' on a pile of red clay and giggling over something only that little girl in me knows.

Grandaddy and me, around 1979, sittin’ on a pile of red clay and gigglin’ over something only that little girl in me knows.

But of course, there was an actual beginning to my own personal practice of writing.  It was my mom who put the pencil in my hand, but not with the instruction to craft a fairytale.

I was often on the receiving end of thoughtful presents from aunts and uncles, grandparents, friends and extended family.  My precious Italian aunt showered me with porcelain dolls, tea sets and music boxes, sparkly jewelry and a shiny silver brush, mirror and comb set.  An uncle of mine saw that I liked his camera, and he just handed it over to me without a second thought.  My mom’s little sister always picked out fun clothes and toys, hand-made a couple of my dolls, took my cousins and me to Six Flags countless times, and baked a bubbling, rich and gooey lasagna from scratch, just for me, every time I visited.  Of course, that was supper… she made French toast for me for breakfast!

My parents’ friends had children in high school and college, but they treated me as one of their own.  One is a talented seamstress, and she made my peach-colored French-lace frock for my 10-year old portrait, and later my white and cream graduation gown with tucks and pleats, puffed sleeves of perfection and satin ribbon.  They attended all my dance recitals, piano performances, school plays and lemonade stands, bought wrapping paper and magazines from my school sales, and tolerated me joining their get-togethers over shrimp suppers, cookouts, watermelon cuttings, rounds of front-lawn croquet and backyard tennis matches (Mrs. Janie, I can still see Cookie with his colorful golf shorts and casually unhurried backhand swing-with-a-laugh, and his characteristic cigar putting the period on his handsome, mischievously innocent grin.  I’m so glad I was a part of those afternoons).

So why the pencil and paper at such a young age, Mom?  Thankfulness.

Of course I appreciated all those wonderful blessings. I doubt there’s a girl out there who wouldn’t enjoy Six Flags, a doll collection, no-less-than-absolutely-delicious food (always… good cooks run deep in my family), and a devoted audience of familiar, loving faces, ready to ride out past the city limits to the country part of the county, and up the mile-long driveway through the woods, just to buy a cup of lemonade from this only-child.

But did the generous parties know it?  Did my grandma and grandaddy know how much joy their presence in my life brought to me?  Did they know I loved all the frilly dresses that grandaddy just knew would look so cute on his adoring girl? Did my best friend’s mom know that I appreciated the invitation to come home with them after school and have dinner and spend the night?  Did my aunts and uncles know that my heart was full of thankfulness for their Christmas visits… not to mention the Lladro figurines and amethyst earrings?  Did my teacher know why she was unforgettable?  Did my future in-laws know how thankful I was, all the way to my heart, for the young man they raised?  Did my appointed sister (who claimed my mom’s attention and love a generation before I was ever thought of) realize how much it meant to me to have my first sleepover party at her house for my 13th birthday?  Did she know I would remember her gift forever?

My mom made sure they knew.  It goes without saying that the raising of Yours Truly included clear instructions in the Southern social graces of manners, politeness, conversational poise, proper dress and elegance.

White Gloves and Party Manners was my summer camp, and classical piano was my sport.

White Gloves and party manners
Whether or not those instructed graces took… I’d say the jury’s still out; and now that I’m a wife, mother of 3, lawyer, photographer, small-business owner and author, I’d say it depends on the day.

But mom was steadfast in the thank-you note requirement.  She still is.  She still calls to be sure I’ve remembered to thank her friend for the handmade baby blanket for my youngest son, or to be sure her neighbor knows how very much I appreciate her remembering all my children’s birthdays (and I do!).  You can imagine the thank-you note discussions during our wedding festivities years ago… I was on top of it, as I had learned the cherished beauty of a crafted thank-you by then, but she was on top of me being on top of it.  She even checks in to be doubly triply positive that I have included a handwritten thank you (in my best handwriting, to be sure) to those who have so graciously granted to me a leg up in this professional journey to find a publisher.

I don’t mind.  I don’t mind because weaving words of gratitude is the very grace that pulled my love for storytelling into writing.  I am thankful.

So how did I get started writing?  My mom insisted on thank-you notes, that’s how.

Mom with me, probably 1978.

Mom with me, probably 1978.

From an early age, I learned not just to say “thank you,” but to explain why I appreciated the gift, the act, the time, the person.  There is living fuel in the whys, the hows, the whens.  It’s not a burden, it’s not boring, and it’s not something to cause an eye-roll while reluctantly adding a line to the ever-lengthening mom’s checklist.  And it’s sometimes not even enough.  It often prompts a future act of kindness repaid, or paid forward.  It’s a connection sometimes lost on lives that spin too fast, lives centered on self, lives driven by media and little glowing screens that tell us what to do and how to do it and why to do it now.  The gift, in all its forms, is the beginning of something, not a stand-alone moment in the universe.  The fact that someone took the time to care enough to bless you in some way at all, is worth the best thank-you note you have in you at the time.

As each gift is different, so should each thank-you note be.  And there is the birth of my search for magnificently, exquisite words.  I began to find that in expressing thanks to my Italian aunt, I couldn’t help but tell her why she was so special.  I wanted to put into words why my Friday afternoon hour with my piano teacher was my favorite part of the week.  I just had to tell the parents of a childhood friend how dear that gorgeous, intricately designed silver platter was to me, as it would bring memories of our times together as I began to host my own parties as a young bride.

I have found fascinating the challenge to write beyond the mundane of the typical, “Thank you for the _____.  It was really nice.”

A whole new world of wordsmithery was born to me, to mold a graceful sentence around thankfulness and truth.   What brings about the magnificence of those exquisite words?  It’s not me, by any means.  It is the beauty in the people who have blessed me, who have showered me with treasures upon the occasions of birthdays and accomplishments, our wedding and our three babies.  And beyond all things, so far beyond, the gifts of time, friendship and love are what I cherish most.

Back to those stories our children have to tell… encourage them.  Put that pencil in their plump little hands, and help them get started.  And then, watch in amazement.  They are never too young to write a thank-you note.  It’s not a competition in who can write it best, it just is best.  It doesn’t have to be perfect, it just has to be.  Help them.  Prompt them to find the source of their thankfulness.  Ask your daughter why she loves that book from her coolest aunt, or what your son’s favorite moment was on his trip to Grandma’s house… and ask why.  In putting those thoughts to paper to the generous people in their lives, they are already telling their own stories, and they are writing from the source of Gratitude.  They will never find themselves at a loss for words.

The fairytales will develop in the depths of their imaginations, and they will have the power of the scrivener’s craft to express them.

Gratitude in thank-you notes easily and naturally grows into an Attitude cut from the same cloth.  An outlook of thankfulness will take one further in this life than our selfish tendencies could ever imagine.  And in this crazy whirlwinded world in which we function and balance schedules and checkbooks, thankfulness will help uncover the balance we all really need.

Personally, I write because I love deep down in my soul to write, and I write out of appreciation for the blessings that God has laid before me.  Now there’s a topic about which I could go on, for there is beauty and goodness to be found in every molecule of this Creation.  That yarn weaves itself beyond all capabilities of even the loveliest of words.

"Butterfly on a Thistle," Nikon D80, 2010, Percy Warner Park, Nashville, TN -by Ashley Bramlett

“Butterfly on a Thistle,” Nikon D80, 2010, Percy Warner Park, Nashville, TN
-by Ashley Bramlett

This week, I received a treasure.  The pre-K children at St. Paul Christian School in Nashville, sent me a thank-you note for our visit with Otis last month.  This is no “Thank you for the ____,” note.  This is a spiral-bound book of drawings and words and thoughts from the hearts of some truly wonderful whippersnappers, and their teachers!

"The Day Otis Went to St. Paul Christian Academy."

“The Day Otis Went to St. Paul Christian Academy.”

"I like Otis with his bark"

“I liked Otis with his tie.”

"I like seeing OTIS."

“I liked seeing OTIS.”

Mary Margaret's observant depiction of Robert and me and Ella and Otis.

Mary Margaret’s observant depiction of Robert and me and Ella and Otis.

"Thank You"

“Thank You”

There are so many more.  And they all express the collective sentiment of thanks, each in its own, amazingly creative and unique way.  St. Paul–you have a knack for instilling an Attitude of Gratitude in your students.  I am so impressed, so blessed, and SO THANKFUL to have been a part of your school day.  Most of all, I love the way you used your words, your imaginations and your hearts to tell me a story.  That’s the very request I left with you: tell me your stories.  You did!  And in such a perfect way. I am thankful that you are part of mine.

It’s almost Mother’s Day.  Go thank your mom.  Look at your life… she did a lot right!  Mom, thank you for making me thank others, for being sure I dug a little deeper than the blank in “Thank you for the ____.”  Your intent in that social grace settled far deeper than the pleasantries of politeness.  Whether I ever land with the perfect publisher, whether Otis Goes to School and all that goes with him ever makes a bestseller list, whether Random House, Harper Collins, Scholastic or any others of the like ever take notice, I am a writer.  And I write from a source of gratitude that all began with a strawberry-haired, barefooted country girl with a pencil-pushing mama, waiting with a stamped envelope, the address of some generous soul in my life, and keys to the car to drive us five miles into town to the old white marble Post Office to mail my words of thanks.  Here’s a case where “thank you,” really isn’t enough.  What can I do… but write it forward.

Left to Right: My Aunt Linda (French toast and lasagna chef extraordinaire), my mom, my grandma, my youngest son Preston, and me.   My Ella and oldest son, Paul Kent, in front.

Left to Right:
My Aunt Linda (French toast and lasagna chef extraordinaire), my mom, my grandma, my youngest son Preston, and me.
My Ella and oldest son, Paul Kent, in front.

Oh… and what gift was it that my appointed sister gave me for my 13th birthday sleepover party that I am sure to remember always…?  Tickets to my first concert… Richard Marx… backstage passes included.  I was sure he would take that photo op fan moment and sweep me away to join his band to sing and play the piano on his North American tour.

He did not.

But I’ll remember the fun of that night, the anticipation of what to wear, the excitement  and suspense of my first concert, meeting a larger-than-life-at-the-time pop star (who stood quite memorably at a non-tall stature, much like this not-so-tall-myself girl) and that giddy photo op… forever.  It’s a colorful thread in the yarns of my life’s story.

And I am thankful.  Not perfectly thankful, not best-thank-you-note-writer-ever thankful, not always-next-day-note-writer, and I’m certainly not a judge of anyone else’s note-writing practices or styles.  I’m just plain, whole-heartedly thankful, and I recognize that therein lies my foundation and love for the lilting rhythm of writing.

Who would have thought, “Dear Aunt Lilly and Uncle Corky…” would become Otis Goes to School…?

Spreading the Words…

Join me in supporting Metro Arts!

By the Fall of 2014, the Bellevue Library in Nashville, TN, will be the home of two inspiring, professional art projects.  Artists’ concepts from all over the country were considered for  these creations.  Great Beginnings, by Beverly Stucker Precious, was the chosen concept for the library’s new outdoor classroom, and it involves the idea of a “learning tree,” with opening sentences from literary works woven right into the branches.

The opening sentence of "Otis Goes to School" could very well be included in this inspiring work of art.  Thank you for nominating us!

“Great Beginnings,” by Beverly Precious. The opening sentence of “Otis Goes to School” could very well be included in this inspiring work of art. Thank you for nominating us!

How creatively AMAZING!

Ms. Precious is currently seeking nominations from favorite first sentences to be included in her learning tree, and if you see fit, I would be honored if you would take a moment to submit the following opening sentence of Otis Goes to School, for her consideration:

It was Autumn… the air was crisp and the leaves were changing colors before falling to decorate the grass with their crunchy-ness.

Can you feel the cool hints in the fall season’s air?  Can you see the bright green leaves of the maple changing to sunshine yellows, and then to twilight oranges, and lastly to fiery reds… finally releasing their stemmed grips and spinning in their one and only chance to dance on the breeze, landing silently on the pin-tops of grass blades, crunching beneath the spritely feet of children celebrating a golden afternoon…?

If you see the picture painted within the opening sentence of Otis Goes to School, if it makes you want to read more, if it makes you smile or touches you in some memory tucked into your heart’s treasure chest, then please nominate us to be included in Ms. Precious’s masterpiece, to be included in the library’s artistic inspiration of budding imaginations.

CLICK HERE to read about the art projects coming to the Bellevue Library, and to include Otis in the nominations.  VISIT the Metro Arts ONLINE SUGGESTION BOX, and complete the very short form.  You can cut and paste the opening sentence of Otis from the quote above.  It takes just a minute or so, and you will be supporting the library, the arts, and Otis Goes to School!

Thank you so much for including us in your busy schedules.

Blessings and barks to you for a beautiful day ahead!

 

 

It’s a Dog’s Day in Alabama Today!


Good morning Otis fans…

TODAY IS THE DAY!

In just a few hours, we will introduce Otis Goes to School, to the state of Alabama. We are looking forward to big crowds, good weather and meeting the likes of Fancy Nancy and Skippyjon Jones, and their authors and illustrators.

Last night, we were guests of the Governor at the John Blue Hill Home, and I was humbled to become an honorary writer for the state of Alabama.  We were rubbing elbows with award winning novelists and Pulitzer Prize nominees!  We are over the moon to be included in this fine group of accomplished authors, and hope that we make a splash of our own as this day gets started.

Stay with us on Facebook to follow our day with pictures! I’ll have a full report here when I get back to my full size keyboard… It’s tough to make these fingers fly on a cell phone screen!

Bless you all, thank you all, and my sincerest appreciation to the folks who made possible our acceptance to the Alabama Book Festival.

Thank you to the Alabama Writers' Forum!

Thank you to the Alabama Writers’ Forum!

 

 

All Hands on Otis

In addition to enjoying a glorious day yesterday, Otis had the pleasure of visiting the pre-K classes at St. Paul Christian School in Nashville.  What love welcomed us there!  Otis was immediately engulfed in a sea of lunch-scented hands and no-holds-barred hugs.

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We talked about our imaginations, and how God’s springtime decorations are all around us, just waiting to inspire creative stories of all sorts.  Wheels of young minds began turning about tulips and daffodils, a rescued kitten (Otis approved), school buses and sunshine, and it was promised to me by several budding authors that Otis and I might get an early read of the yarns they would be weaving in their daydreams to come.

I’m looking ever so forward to your tales, little friends! Email me your writings, photographs and drawings, and I’d love to display them here! (ashleybramlett.author@yahoo.com)

As an extra special blessing of the day, our Ella came along with us!  She showed the students just the right way to scratch Otis behind the ears, helped introduce the Spring volume of Ella and the Little Red Wagon to everyone, and best of all, got the chance to hug and hug and hug again her precious pre-K teacher from two years ago. Love!

Ella and Mrs. Amy CookeTHANK YOU, St. Paul, for your unforgettable kindness, the remarkable politeness displayed by all of your students, of all ages, and for having us in your amazing school.  While it was truly inspiring and welcoming in all its bright colors, sunlight-filled classrooms and refreshing breezeways, it was all that and far more in every person, every student, every teacher, every member of your staff whom we had the pleasure of meeting.  We hope to return to share the chapters of Otis Goes to School with your older grades sometime soon.  You are raising and instructing a fine flock of young folks, and it was our honor to be a small part of your day!

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St. Paul class.2

St. Paul class.1

Send us those stories and drawings, little ones.  You have faithful fans here at the Otis camp!

-FOLLOW OTIS on the BOOK BLOG and FACEBOOK-

Thank you for being a part of our journey.  We invite you to follow us here on our book blog, and if you like, please click here to follow Otis and his adventures on Facebook.

-ORDER A BOOK FOR YOUR COLLECTION-

Ready to order your own copy of Otis and find out what his investigations are all about?  Click here!

-READ THE COVER STORY-

For the story-behind-the-story, click here to read the April issue of the Berry Hill Life Magazine cover story of how this adventure began.

-PUT THIS BOOK ON THE SHELVES OF STORES/LIBRARIES, REQUEST AN EVENT-

If you are a publisher, bookstore, library or teacher wanting to add Otis to your inventory or schedule an author-and-dog visit/event, we truly look forward to talking with you, and we thank you for your interest! Please email ashleybramlett.author@yahoo.com.

Wishing everyone lots of love and dog bones.  Stay tuned next week as we head to Alabama to present Otis Goes to School at the Alabama Book Festival!

OGTS for AL Book Festival