{"id":12317,"date":"2012-12-28T10:15:18","date_gmt":"2012-12-28T18:15:18","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/barbarafalconernewhall.com\/?p=12317"},"modified":"2012-12-28T10:15:18","modified_gmt":"2012-12-28T18:15:18","slug":"read-me-a-story-mommy-but-not-that-one-you-wrote","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/server.stagingweb3.net\/barbarafalconernewhall\/read-me-a-story-mommy-but-not-that-one-you-wrote\/","title":{"rendered":"‘Read Me a Story, Mommy, But Not That One You Wrote’ (Or,The Nicest Thing My Husband Ever Said to Me)"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"1986<\/a>
Our 1986 home office with floppy disk drives, Christina, and Petunia the cat. Photo by BF Newhall.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

By Barbara Falconer Newhall<\/em><\/p>\n

When my kids were still at the Mommy-please-read-to-me stage, the Oakland Tribune found itself in a bit of a budget crunch. To save money, management cut my part-time work week back to a single day.<\/p>\n

It was demeaning. It was insulting. I was humiliated. I was mad.<\/p>\n

\"BookSo I did what every self-respecting writer does when she\u2019s ticked off at the world. I sat myself down at the keyboard \u2013 and wrote.<\/p>\n

I proceeded to write a children\u2019s book. I was a professional writer, after all. And I had two small children. Writing a picture book would be a piece of cake.<\/p>\n

I banged out what I thought was a pretty cool manuscript, a fairy tale about a vainglorious medieval knight named Sir Goodnessme and his nemesis the Dragon Dread.<\/p>\n

When the story was done, I summoned the children. At ages six and three, Peter and Christina were reliably eager to have a story read to them. The three of us clambered onto the bed in the room that served as Christina’s bedroom and our home office. The kids scrunched up on either side of me and leaned in like a pair of bookends.<\/p>\n

I opened the manuscript and read.<\/p>\n

My children loved Ezra Jack Keats’ The Snowy Day.<\/em> They were entranced by Wolos\u2019 Friendship Valley<\/em>. They thrilled to Maurice Sendak\u2019s Where the Wild Things Are<\/em>.<\/p>\n

Unfortunately, they didn\u2019t think much of Barbara Falconer Newhall\u2019s The Adventures of Sir Goodnessme and the Dragon Dread<\/em>.<\/p>\n

A few minutes into my manuscript \u2013 just as I was getting to the good part \u2013 Peter and Christina slid off the bed and wandered out of the room.<\/p>\n

\"Book<\/a>I rewrote the story.<\/p>\n

I rewrote the rewrite.<\/p>\n

I summoned the children.<\/p>\n

But Peter and Christina wanted nothing to do with Mommy\u2019s made-up fairy tale story about a silly knight and a dumb dragon. They wanted Maurice Sendak and Ezra Jack Keats.<\/p>\n

Sir Goodnessme was done for. Neither he nor the Dragon Dread would be leaving my house in manuscript form, ever. If their adventures bored my kids, no way would I inflict them on somebody\u2019s else\u2019s kids, let alone introduce them to a book publisher.<\/p>\n

I ditched my fairy tale career. I went back to real life. I began concocting little essays about things that had actually happened to me. To wit:<\/p>\n