Lately I’ve been working on a children’s book entitled The Loons on the Lake. When the kids are all home during the day, I can’t write. For me writing requires undivided attention. I need to focus to get into the story. I can’t do that with the kids around. Someone wants to talk or ask a question. Where is this? Can I have a friend over? Can I go here? Can I take the car?

I love having the kids around. LOVE IT! But I can’t write when they are. So…I paint with water colors or make Ukrainian eggs (pysanky). Both are infinitely interruptible. I can be pulled away from either without getting cranky.

So, this Christmas break I decided to finish illustrating a children’s book I’ve been writing in my head for some time. It’s called The Loons on the Lake.

My family of seven contains three barefoot water skiers. It’s a tough sport that requires its participants to literally walk, er, ski, on water. Barefoot. I personally think they are nuts. Loony.

Last year, my husband and one son in particular were on the water the day the ice left. There was ice on the lake in the morning, and they were skiing in the afternoon. I don’t barefoot water ski. I don’t water ski. I kayak around the lake taking pictures of my family and the loons that summer at the same lake we do each year. I have a gazillion pictures of loons and their chicks at various stages of development.

When an editor said she wanted to see the children’s book I’d written, I decided to finish and send her The Loons on the Lake. This book juxtaposes the two types of loons, my loony barefoot water skiing family and the common loon (the bird). It follows both through a year on the northern lake. I’m really pleased with how the paintings turned out.

I’ll send the editor the children’s book I wrote and illustrated years ago, but I hope she also likes (and publishes) The Loons on the Lake.

  Laurel