Serenity Amid Chaos

By Kim

I blogged about the chaos that is my “office” back in 2009. It’s now October of 2013 and my desk remains exactly where it was, with ten feet of open space between me and a television with surround sound. My husband’s desk is still two steps behind me.

There have been a couple of changes since then, of course. My older daughter, the one who wants the TV on for background noise, now prefers to hole up in her room and make duct-tape art during the rare moments she’s not dancing or doing homework.  The younger daughter and my husband have now claimed the TV and spend way too much of their leisure time playing Minecraft. I've decided I prefer the theme song for “Dog With a Blog” to the endless bleating of sheep or virtual scrape of pickaxes. Our new laminate floors, while gorgeous, amplify each sound until  I swear I’m down in the mine with them.

While moving my computer is impossible, I decided to claim one small corner of the house as my own. A place to read and relax. A place to hide when the noise level around me gets to be too much. A place to banish myself to when hormones or tempers flare.

My bedroom was the obvious choice, since the open floor plan that once drew me to this house includes few doors that close. I've recently repainted in there and, other than for the TV, the room is a throwback to 1917. I cleared out a space and went out in search of furniture. I found this comfy Morris chair at a local antique store. It was made in 1902 in a town maybe fifty miles from where my great-grandfather lived that year. If this weren't enough of a selling point, the upholstery matched my bedspread. The ends of the armrests even curve to fit my hands.

The owner of the store suggested an antique gout stool instead of an ottoman. It looks a bit strange, but supports feet and legs at a natural angle. As soon as I tried it, I grinned and said “sold.” I’m not sure the stools did anything to relieve gout, which could account for their lack of popularity today, but they feel heavenly.

My eight-year-old has already claimed both chair and stool as hers when that (hopefully far-off) day arrives that I have no further need of them.

So here it is, my serenity amid chaos. I think everyone needs such a place, especially creative types.

What’s your place? 

Reading, Writing and Ratings

By Pamela

This summer, I put my nine-year-old on a diet. You see, it was necessary. Left to her devices she would overindulge on unhealthy helpings of Minecraft (or Mindcrap, as I call it), Dragonvale and such. I put her on a technology-limited diet, so I was free to go about my summer without constantly badgering her about her screen-time. She agreed to limit technology to Tuesdays and Thursdays. Now, on any given day that doesn't start with a T, I'm subjected to moans and groans about dragons hatching without her being able to witness such blessed events, but I'm fine with that. I do give her free reign on her Kindle for reading books and she's been a reading fiend.

Last summer she zipped through the Harry Potter series, twice! And she read The Hunger Games books. This summer she's read some classics: Where the Red Fern Grows and The Witch of Blackbird Pond; plus The Help, The Fault in Our Stars, So B. It, Star Girl and more. My concern has not been finding books she wants to read but deciding if the books are appropriate for a child who reads well above her grade level--like many kids do.

Before you accuse me of being negligent or hypocritical, I realize allowing my girl to read The Hunger Games--or even the later installments of Harry Potter might not have been the most prudent move. A more conservative household might not even have the books on their shelves. But I read them before I let her and handed them to her with a word of caution plus the assurance that if she found them at all disturbing, she should put them down and read them another time. Or, if she wanted to talk about them at any time, I'd be here for her. She was fine with them. In all honesty, she howled the loudest after reading Where the Red Fern Grows, sobbing over her breakfast cereal that, "Both dogs died! Both of theeeemmmmm!"

Last week, she ran out of books to read and really wanted to download one to her Kindle, which meant her reading something I hadn't vetted. I thought The Fault in Our Stars might be okay, but texted my older boy's girlfriend, who had read it, and asked for her input. I knew it would be sad, as teens with cancer undoubtedly is, but I wasn't sure about sexual content or language. Katya wrote me back: "definitely some swearing. Not explicit but they do mention having sex. Probably PG-13. Also the literary references are a bit mature." Hmmm. I decided to let her read it and she didn't seem unsettled by any of it. In fact, it's actually opened some dialog between us and she's eager for me to read it, too.

I'll admit: This is the first time I've wished books came with ratings.

It's a hotly debated topic and I'm not sure why. We have movie and television ratings, even music ratings nowadays. Why not books? A recent article in The Wall Street Journal explored the world of dark YA and US News and World Report wrote about the same. But critics of book ratings worry about censoring and book bannings. I have to disagree.

As a mother, I'd welcome a rating system for books. As a writer, I don't think this bothers me at all, but I'm not sure others agree. Maybe the better alternative is a review site that deals with rating content of books, movies, video games, apps and more. Common Sense Media allows you to search a book title (or game, app, etc.) and view the level of violence, language, sex and such contained within. Had I known about this site earlier (truth is, I found it while researching this blog post) I might not have let my girl read The Fault in Our Stars as it rates it as Age 15, mostly due to the mature subject of teens coping with terminal illness. But I was also unable to find a few titles she's recently read, so their list is not as comprehensive as I'd hoped.

If we ever see the day when books are rated, I'm not sure if it will keep kids from reading mature content. Likely it will cause them to reach for books rated as explicit and possibly hide them from their parents. I know I read Stephen King, V.C. Andrews, John Saul and Robin Cook as a young teen and my mother had no idea what I was exposed to. For that matter, I read Shakespeare, too, and it doesn't get much darker than teens dying in the name of true love!

So, writers and authors: Would it bother you to see a rating system applied to literature? Why or why not?