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April Wayland
I'm the author of several acclaimed children's books, and of one poetry book for young adults, "Girl Coming In for a Landing."
The cover of my book for teens, "Girl Coming In for a Landing"

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    Biography

    Who? Who am I? Hmmmm...I'm a writer, a mother, a speaker, a musician, an organizer, a teacher, a poet, a performer, a storyteller, a traveler, a walker, a meditator, an aqua farmer, a sun farmer, an animal lover, a cloud collector, a procrastinator. All! I have always loved words. My whole family did. I loved more than words, though. I loved pictures and words, color and words, music and words. I grew up and tried different things like farming and being a nanny and be-ing a teacher and being a world traveler, and playing the fiddle, and working in a huge office building making what seemed like gobs of money, and I fi-nally found that the thing that made my heart sing was writing children’s books. The pairing of words and pictures. Blending them both so that one was not complete without the other. So, here I am, an author of children’s books. I have a son Jeff and a husband Gary, whom I love very much. I'm very happy. And what about the future? I would like to illustrate some of my books. I love teaching and performing my stories, and know I will jump on this magic carpet of a career and keep teaching and performing in new lands. I also know that I will continue writing, sometimes because I very much want to publish a book or a poem, because I want to send something won-derful out to the world. More and more I write for the pure pleasure of get-ting lost in writing, for looking up at the clock and realizing that four hours have passed in one breath, that I haven’t started dinner yet, that it is now dark outside. I look to the future and know that I will be writing for the delight of diving back into that great creative sea, swimming around, and bringing combina-tions of color and words, music and words, pictures and words to the surface to share. With you.

    Inspiration

    During the school year, Daddy would drive those 500 miles back and forth between Santa Monica and Yuba City every month or every few months. When he did, he would look at the darkening landscape as music, and whis-tle those highs and lows as he drove.

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