Serena Schreiber

Finn's Ship now available in Berlin

After admiring the Brandenburger Gate, leave the tourist destinations behind for Prenzlauer Berg, where the multicultural locals meet in funky cafes, art galleries and independent bookstores. Linger in the open air markets, the Berlin equivalent of Greenwich Village in New York City. 

Just a few trolley stops from our relatives in former East Berlin, its off-the-beaten-path location saved it from the major bombing which flattened much of the city during World War II, allowing buildings to survive although bullet holes can be found in their facades. 

Shoppers looking for an international adventure story for nine to fourteen-year-olds may purchase Finn's Ship at the  Saint George's English Bookshop. The owner Paul opened the well-stocked store on Woerther Str. after relocating from London. 

For picture books from around the world, you must visit Mundo Azul.

 

Howl at the Moon - a literary salon?

Literary salon sounds a lot snootier than our monthly meeting of emerging and award-winning local authors reading their work aloud at our local watering hole, Finz Red Eye Cafe. Howl at the Moon Writers Jam, our gathering of artists of the written word, free from the censorship of big NYC publishing (read, NYC only promotes best selling authors) has a following of devoted friends and fans. Last night, nine authors stepped up again - we've been meeting since July 2011 - and like the beverages we consume, always a different mix, always a refreshing blend.

And we're not alone! Meet our international brethren at Pen Tales, a looseknit network of writers groups and other folks who share their art just like we do. Or should I say sisterhood? From an article in zittyBerlin, I learned that, throughout the 300-year-old history of the literary salon in Europe, primarily women started these groups, giving voice to opinions outside the establishment. With my partner in crime Kathryn Thomas, I proudly continue the tradition. We meet every Third Thursday in Port Salerno, Florida. All are welcome. Info >

Serena Ann's first Valentine

I found this story online. Enjoy. http://wilkinsfreeman.info/Short/SerenaAnnsFirstValentine.htm

I'm a World Book Night book giver

and YOU can be, too! Deadline extended to Monday, Feb 6th. 

Give away your favorite book to those who need it most
Do good and feel great 

http://www.us.worldbooknight.org/

Blue Planet's Creative Writing Blast-off

3rd graders integrate scientific facts about the solar system with creative writing in a 6-week pilot project led by Blue Planet Writers Room at Palmetto Elementary.

Teacher Serena Hoermann (Schreiber) and her class overcome gravity in their spaceship at the beginning of their mission to the sun.

From Wellington to Sundance

Read more in today's Palm Beach Post

See you Friday night on the Planet with Beth Raymer

Beth Raymer is the author of Lay the Favorite, a memoir about her time as a cocktail waitress who becomes involved with a group of geeky fiftyish men who have found a way to work the sportsbook system in Las Vegas to their advantage. The book has been made into a major motion picture directed by Stephen Frears and starring Bruce Willis, Vince Vaughn, Catherine Zeta-Jones, andRebecca Hall.  It's premiering this month at the Sundance Festival. Read more >

Speech Bubbles

Stories well up like iridescent bubbles and float free above my head.  I stretch my wand out to catch, which one? The nearest or the largest or the pair that have conjoined like twins?

I panic as they begin to escape. I reach too eagerly, popping two, three. Now I'll have none. Blow your magic again, muse. I'll be ready this time.

 

Pirate returns

I had been back nearly forty-eight hours before I realized what was wrong with me. The kids across the street were washing down their boat and the salt water taste reached my mouth like taffy. My eyes flew fully open for the first time since my return. The beach! I was astounded by my own stupidity. Why aren't we at the beach?

My skin and hair had been dried to a crackly frazzle by the low humidity, the heated rooms and unaccustomed water we'd encountered while traveling. Many nights I'd awoken to find a small furry animal had crawled into my open mouth and died while I slept. No, it was my tongue, completely dried out like a large prune. I'd crawl out of bed, trying not to wake the three others in the room, to seek a drink of water. An entire glass went down my throat and I'd feel no less thirsty. Giving it up for hopeless, I'd slink back under my covers and try to get warm again, to fall back to sleep.

It was the land of snow so dry it barely packed into a snowball, much less the body of a snowman. As if every drop of water in the air was required to form those millions of flakes, no moisture remained available.

But now that I was home, I should have realized why I felt so flat, depleted, drained like a tube of sunscreen that finally gives no more. I needed the beach, the water, the gentle waves capped with foam. She called to me, my ocean, hitching a ride on the neighbor's boat across the street to call me to her. She was waiting impatiently as she always did, to welcome me home.

 

at a library in Berlin

How to amuse yourself on the ICE train from Austria to Northern Germany

What do you do on the train for 8 hours from Woergl to Gifhorn? Watch Mr. Popper's Penguins, read a book on the Kindle and of course, play with Photo Booth on the MacBook Air.

Mom doesn't stand a chance at writing...