Personal Picture Book Project:

ERNIE AND THE PEA

One day a boy stood on a busy street corner.

A truck rumbled by. Cars honked at each other. People short and tall, stout and thin, zigzagged along the sidewalk and narrow crossing.

Ernie scratched his head. His cap tilted sideways.

“I’d better hurry,” Ernie said under his breath. “The pizza-maker needs their olive oil. The bakery needs their dough. The coffee shop needs their milk. And the cafe needs their flowers.”

With a tiny hop, Ernie mounted his bicycle.

A soft wind blew across his face as he rode. Then from nowhere, an object, very small and round, fell from the sky. It landed on the brim of his cap.

Ernie pulled over.

“What’s this? A pea?”

He looked up.

Peas don’t just fall from the sky. And only ONE pea?

Personal PB Project:

Grumpy Owl Goes Home

Personal Middle Grade Novel Project:

HERBEY’S SECRET KINGDOM

Down a cobblestone road, lined with purple petunias, and neatly trimmed hedges, a rental car occupied by a father with a rather pensive and decisive gaze, and a mother with a tendency to fret over small and unimportant things, while rendering indifference to the things that mattered, steered along the road into a dazzling blaze of sunshine.

Herbey Plumtree, who—if he had been another boy—may have been miffed that his pensive and indifferent parents had left him on the curb to spend a morning with a tour guide, but he wasn’t. Not in the least. Instead, he scratched the top of his head, turned about, and headed down the path toward the ticket station, just as Mother had instructed.

Cool ocean air blew across his forehead. Texas air feels different than ocean air. Ocean air feels like vacation, he thought. This vacation would be different, Herbey decided. Even if he had to wear a long-sleeved shirt, which he despised.

Earlier, his mother had said, “Long sleeves will protect your skin from the harsh coastal sunshine. You’ll thank me when you have freckle-free skin.”

Oh, sure, Herbey thought wryly.

His Buster Browns scraped along the cobblestone as Herbey made his way toward a sign:

STORYGUIDE STATION

At the ticket booth, Herbey said, “Hello, my name is, Herbey Plumtree. Herbey is short for Herbert. I’m here for my private tour.”

From behind the glass, a woman raised one brow. Her purple eyelids sparkled like Lake Lilac at sunset. “Hmm, do you have a reservation?” she asked. She tapped a keyboard with long multi-colored fingernails.

“Um, I think my mom made the reservation. I get to tour the adventure park first—I think—cause my parents felt guilty they had to work,” Herbey explained. “But they promised they would leave their conference at noon and meet me in the park. That’s why my tour ends at noon,” he further explained.

The woman’s eyes widened. Purple sparkles folded in the crease of her brow. “Oh, sorry to hear that, dearie,” she said. “Well, your tour guide will be out in a moment. Just stand under that big sign.”

She pointed.

DROP OFF POINT OF NO RETURN