Lately, my 7-year-old is obsessed with the poetry of Shel Silverstein. She loves his whimsy and his silliness. She’s read The Giving Tree many times, so she likes his serious side, too.
Today, I purchased Falling Up for her. As I took it from the shelf–thinking to myself, “When the heck am I ever going to see one of MY books on a bookstore shelf?”–the book fluttered open to page 65. I’m convinced the poem that’s printed there was meant as a kick in butt to me, to stop procrastinating and get back to editing my novel-in-progress.
All the Woulda-Coulda-Shouldas
Layin’ in the sun,
Talkin’ bout the things
They woulda-coulda-shoulda done…
But those Woulda-Coulda-Shouldas
All ran away and hid
From one little did
Enough feet dragging already. It’s time to get that novel whipped into shape and sub it out. Thanks, Shel.