About 10 years ago, I stood up on stage at our company talent show ready to recite the classic poem Casey at the Bat by Ernest Lawrence Thayer. I had spent hours memorizing and rehearsing the poem and had gone the extra mile to dress up as a sports reporter with binoculars and a “Press” card in my fedora. It was a brilliant presentation. Right up to the second stanza when I forgot a line. Now I’m a seasoned member of Toastmasters International and accustomed to improvising when needed. But this was a poem–written by someone else. I could not make up words and lines that weren’t part of the original. I had to stick to the script. So I pulled out my notes, found my line, and continued on a little ruffled. My memory lapse failed me three more times during that presentation. I tried to maintain a level head and keep in character, but in the end it was a flop–a failure–it stank.

But wait, there's more: Lessons Learned on Critiquing Authors

Writing is a solitary process. I find I spend most of my writing takes place when I’m daydreaming. Those moments when my brain isn’t preoccupied with necessary stuff, it is focused on what ifs. The what ifs are the things I thrive on. The more off the beaten path, the better. Sometimes those what ifs are taking a familiar story and turning it on its head or putting it in a new setting with different characters. Sometimes it’s triggered by a common event from an everyday situation—mix in a something impossible and boom—a story is born. Most of these stories never make it to my keyboard and that’s probably a good thing. It’s like a photography who may get a handful of really good photos out of a dozen rolls of film. Not every idea is worth putting into a plot. But the soil of my mind is rich with imagination and I know something good is going to come up eventually.

But wait, there's more: The Solitude of Writing

Elanor is my youngest daughter. She’s a hands-on kinda kid who loves to do crafts, bake, and most importantly, do Origami. She has a huge collection of papers in all colors and sizes and a library of how-to books on Origami. What she can’t find in her books, she’ll hunt down online, watching Youtube videos to figure out a new trick or two with folding paper. I’m not sure where her passion for folding paper comes from, but I think the documentary Between the Folds (check it out on Netflix. It’s fascinating.) might have helped motivate her. By the way, I threw in a bunch of origami terms if you get lost in the second stanza. These are different kinds of folds used to describe patterns. Who would have thought there would be so many words for fold the paper. Enough of my rambling, here’s my third and final Christmas poem.
But wait, there's more: A poem for Elanor

Here’s a poem I wrote for my oldest daughter. At the age of 14 she’s developed quite an artistic eye that I’ve come to envy. I’ve always enjoyed drawing, and I’m even pretty good at it. I earned a number of awards in high school, and I leverage my skills as an artist and illustrator with Caret Publications–I designed the cover of my novel, How Deep Lies the Shadow and did the layout of the entire book. But enough about me. Beth is drawing all the time. Every free moment she has is spent with a pencil and drawing pad in her hands. Her interests started with drawing manga, but she soon developed her own style of both cartoon and realistic rendering. Her dream is to own an RV and a dog and to work for Pixar Animation Studios. This poem describes her love of drawing and storytelling. I tried to follow a limerick pattern, though not all the stanzas have the same line-length. Still I think it reads well out loud. Let me know what you think.

But wait, there's more: A Poem for Beth: B.A.D. Heart Art

This year for Christmas, the DeHart family decided to go low budget and make gifts. We still ended up with a pile of purchased gifts from family and friends, but the highlight of our morning was sharing with each other the gifts we had worked so hard on making for each other. Since I’ve got ink flowing through my blood, I decided to turn my pen toward poetry. I crafted three poems, one for each member of the family highlighting their interests and talents. I’d like to share those with you here.

But wait, there's more: Trying my hand at poetry