My short story “Caribou House” is the featured story at A Fly in Amber this month.

Do you think it means something, that all of my Most Favorite Authors do not keep blogs?

I dreamt last night that I was visiting an unfamiliar city for the first time, along with several interchangeable family members in tow. We parked our car at one point, and proceeded to our first destination on foot. Afterward, though, we had trouble finding our way back to where we’d left the car. The maps we consulted just did not show any way we could walk from our current location to the place we had left the car.

Ultimately, I knew we had to approach the problem from a different direction. “We parked near the Performance Center,” I said. “Isn’t there a subway we can take to the Center, and then find our car from there?”

Of course it seems like a wildly obvious solution, but in the dream it was like a revelation. A lot of writing is like this for me, especially if I’m working on a novel or longer work. I butt my head repeatedly against a character wall or plot blockage, trying to make it work with my conception of How Things Are Supposed To Be. Only when I step back and look at the situation from a different angle can I find the way through. Usually, it’s a pretty obvious solution (and not a significant departure from what I originally envisioned) but I just can’t see it until I let go of my preconceptions and allow myself the chance to see the other options.

Oddly, my horoscope from the newspaper today seemed to echo this idea:

The problem lies in perceptions rather than actions. Knowing when to turn around and try another course evolves to a greater strength and develops into an asset. You express an insatiable desire to grow.

In fact, it’s just a wee bit creepy, when I think about it, and I suspect that “insatiable desire to grow” explains why I’ve felt hungry all day…

Madam Mallard was justifiably proud of her new brood. She swept through the water, enjoying all the coos and compliments of the folk who crowded the banks of the small pond. The other ducks in the pond seemed a little put off, but Madam Mallard didn’t care. And why should she? With five such perfect ducklings to her credit, she was the Queen of the Pond … at least for today.

What I found most interesting about the new mother is that she didn’t lead the way, as you see in so many duck-family illustrations, each duckling primly following after Mama in proper formation. No, she let them go where they willed, exploring and experimenting as they became familiar with their new home. Always watchful, never far away, Madam Mallard let her children take the lead. How else would they learn to think and do for themselves, right?

I believe, too, that she understood that it’s much easier to appreciate the achievements of your children if you are watching them, instead of making them watch you. Your children will lead you to amazing places, if you let them.

I should add that Mister Mallard, the ducklings father, was just as attentive a parent on this family outing —but it is Mother’s Day, so you must forgive my preoccupation with Madame.

Happy Mother’s Day to all my friends!