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I had a peaceful, productive writing time away. As an introvert, if I truly overdo it, I end up feeling like I'm "in pieces." And it takes slowing down and being alone to put those pieces back together.

Over the past three days, I reached the end of my Shelter Pet Squad draft, but I also spent time just looking at the frozen lake out the window of my room. Watching the snow swirl into spirals in the wind, like swarms of winter bees.

I grew up on a lake, and I had forgotten the little things. The way the light reflects on the ice. The ever-present winter wind, made stronger because there's nothing on the lake to slow it down. The roar of it against the windows and the whisper in the small spaces around the door.



The wind had brushed away the snow on the lake to make a skater's dream: ice so clear and smooth that skates fly over it. I watched the fishermen, the hockey players, a man who held the end of a kite and let the wind pull him in a sled, and this couple and their dog. Sometimes the dog ran so fast that he kept going after he stopped, carried by momentum across the ice.

When I was a child, my sister and I would skate on our lake. I remember how my voice echoed out in the middle and how when the darkness came before supper, my mother would put the outside light on to tell us it was time to come back. If we were way out in the middle of the lake, the light was small, a tiny dot of yellow in the darkening distance.

I felt like that driving home today. I need these times away sometimes to get work done and put my pieces back together. But I know at the end of the drive, my family has the light on, calling me home.

Welcome, 2015. I'm starting the year in Rangeley, Maine, working on my third Shelter Pet Squad book. I picked this area, because I'm also scouting out a setting for the next book I might want to write. I haven't decided yet, but this area has many of the elements I need. It has dramatic landscapes, lots of wildlife, and has a slight "frontier" feel to it, which appeals to me. Plus it has one of the most beautiful small libraries in the whole state, and that's saying a lot because Maine is full of beautiful small libraries. So here's to a year of new beginnings and new worlds to discover.





The Rangeley Inn. A quirky, fun, beautiful place. You could close your eyes and open them and be in the early 1900s.







The first sunrise of 2015. I walked out on the little porch with my room to see it. It was about 9 degrees out, but worth it.



Wishing you all a Happy New Year! 

Sometimes it's good to leave your life open to surprise. That sounds simple, but it takes quiet faith and courage to just be in the moment without expectation. That's not simple at all.

Yesterday morning my son asked to go to Toys R Us to spend some of his Christmas money. He looked at his usual favorite electronic things, but then he spent a long time in the aisle of FAO stuffed animals.

My son loves animals in theory, but being a person with autism with huge sensory challenges, real animals can be overwhelming. He loves nonfiction books about animals, but he's never expressed any interest in stuffed animals. Ever. Not that we didn't buy them when he was young, but he never cared about them.

So it was a complete surprise that he seemed so taken with these. "You have some extra Christmas money," I finally told him. "So if you want one, you can choose one." He picked up each kind and put it back, and then we went to another part of the store. I thought that was the end of the matter, but just before we were done shopping, he came back and took one stuffed animal off the shelf and handed it to me as a firm decision.

"I like your leopard," I told him as we walked to the car with it.

"It's a cheetah," he said matter-of-factly. Those of you who love someone with autism know there's no point in arguing, because they KNOW the things they love. I have zero doubt that it is indeed a cheetah.

"Does your cheetah have a name?" I asked.

"A name?"

"Yeah, lots of times when people get a stuffed animal, they name it."

"What's the name?"

"I don't know," I said. "You get to choose. How about Henry?"

"Don't be ridiculous," he said, which is one of his movie phrases. He always means the emotion behind the words, but out of context from the movie, the phrases are overly dramatic to the situation. I try not to laugh, because he's using them as communication and he's a bit sensitive about being laughed at, but I couldn't help it. I'm walking through the Toy R Us parking lot carrying a huge cheetah with my 6 foot tall adult son with autism. I think we passed "ridiculous" a while ago.

"Okay, maybe Spot? Since he has spots?" I said.

"Yes."

So Spot the Cheetah came home with us. And it was one of those moments where the world changes, just a little bit, because we let it. A surprise to us all.

December has been a whirlwind. After my last events for the year, I came down with a really bad cold and asthma flare-up and was in bed for nearly a week. But I'm better now and have had a lovely holiday with my family.



Now, I have a book to write. The second Shelter Pet Squad book (Merlin) is with the illustrator, and I have the third one (Paloma) to get to my editor by the end of January. And then I have wide open possibilites for what to write next. I have an idea for a new novel and both of my editors gave it a nod of initial approval. So we'll see where that goes.

I had some nice news this morning. Jelly Bean, the first Shelter Pet Squad book is on. Those awards are chosen by teachers and librarians, so it makes me really happy to see that book honored.

And Derek Anderson, the wonderful illustrator for Hot Rod Hamster, designed a bookmobile bus for the Ames Iowa Public Library. Hamster and his friends are on a bus!



So awesome!

Milo and my writing shed

. Kids and adults always gasp when I tell them that I had to start Rules over after my first editorial letter. The comments in the letter were so deep that it required it. In fact, of my four novels, I've had to start three of them over at that same point.

Here's a little of that day for Rules on my blog: "It snowed all night. Snow reminds me of blank pages, new beginnings. So this morning, surrounded by the world's silent, fresh start, I did what I knew I needed to. I let go and wiped Rules clean."

Last night was the Christmas party at my son's program. I have to admit it always tugs my heart to see so many people with disabilities, some of whom are in their 60s and 70s, with their families. I think of all the years of care that those families have put in--and I see my future. You don't have a baby expecting he will be dependent on you for your whole lifetime.

But it happens.

The staff had decorated the room beautifully, and a DJ was playing fun dance music. John and I watched my son out in the middle of it all, dancing with everyone else--all them just doing their own thing, but together. I smiled the whole night, because in front of me were people dancing with 100% joy. How often do you and I do that?

Right in front of me was an older man who needed a wheelchair and with him was a white-haired man in a suit--his brother, just come from work. He held his brother's hands and helped him dance in his wheelchair. I imagined how surprised the coworkers or clients of that well-dressed man might have been to see him dancing to Saturday Night Fever with his brother. And how sad it is that we don't often know these things about the people we spend our days with.

One of the staff said to us, "We spend the first part of our lives anxious to grow up, and then we realize being an adult is kind of overrated."

I smiled. There are true and hard challenges in our son's life, but he's taught me many things, not the least of which is that there is room in the world for differences. We aren't all the same. We aren't all equal, except in our value. We all have something to give. We all have things we need. Every one of us.

But it takes an open heart to give and receive that value to each other. Watching my son dancing in his own way, surrounded by other people dancing in their own way, I set aside those challenges and let my heart fill with hope for us all.

Well, this Thanksgiving will be a story year. One of those family moments that forever after you say to each other, "Remember the year. . . " and you all do.

The night before, we had a heavy snowstorm with strong winds. Like over 100,000 other people in Maine, our electricity went out, and it was still off in the morning when it was time for me to start the turkey.

Standing in my cold, dark kitchen, I thought, "Now what?" I woke up with a long to-do list, and couldn't do a single thing on it.

Our local corner store is open for a few hours on Thanksgiving morning. So my daughter and I walked through the empty, snow-silent streets to buy as many cups of hot coffee and tea that we could carry to help us decide our "Plan B." day.

On the way, we laughed and slid and talked to our neighbors who were outside. I wouldn't have chosen today to start like this, but sometimes you just have to decide which to focus on: what you don't have or what you do. It was beautiful outside. It was special to spend that unexpected "found" time with each other. When we got home, we toasted "Thanksgiving 2014" in our paper travel cups.

Our power finally came on in the afternoon. We were lucky. Central Maine Power said many people won't have power until tomorrow. So I put the turkey in the oven, and we had Thanksgiving when it was done.

Nobody goes into a day wanting Plan B, but that holds the stories. And often those "remember the time?" family stories are about the people, not the time or place. Yesterday was a challenging, funny, wonderful Plan B Thanksgiving.

And what I'll remember most is walking to the store with my daughter on a crystal-quiet Thanksgiving morning.

We're expecting a snowstorm beginning this afternoon through tomorrow. So my daughter is coming home this morning. I can't wait to have her home. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

I had a wonderful trip to Wyckoff, New Jersey last week! The younger students had made hot rods and new stories for Hot Rod Hamster.



And the upper elementary students chose photos for Lucy's contest in Half a Chance. I loved seeing all their artwork and ideas!

At lunchtime, I had lunch in the art room with Media Specialist Jaclyn Soroko and a great group of readers and writers. Isn't this a beautiful space?





What a wonderful school! The students were fun and fabulous and the staff was very welcoming. I had a great day!


Thank you, Lincoln Elementary School!

I'm coming down to the end of my 2014 events: three school visits, two signings, and a conference left this year. And then I have until March to write and do family things before it all starts up again.



Milo is ready for me to be home. It's hard to pack with this sad face watching me.