So You Want to Write for Kids: The Least You Need to Know

After years of editing, teaching writing, working with writers, and learning about the industry as a writer/illustrator, I have a created a list of things I believe new children’s book writers need to know. I also asked some published author and illustrator friends to tell me what they wish they’d known when they began. Following is a compilation of the very least you need to know when you’re starting out. It is by no means an exhaustive list, but it will give you a solid foundation as you begin your journey toward publication.

Be prepared

Always carry a notebook or another way to record your ideas. Always. That incredible idea you have at 3 am that you’re certain you’ll remember in the morning? You won’t. Great ideas and inspiration can strike at any time: in the car, in line at the supermarket, while cleaning your bathroom. Be prepared.

Know your audience—know the genre

The genre “children’s books” is divided into the following basic sub-categories based on the age range of the readership:

• YA—young adult
• Middle grade—for eight to twelve-year-olds or so
• Chapter books—divided into chapters, some black and white illustrations, for elementary-age ranges six to nine, seven to ten, and eight to twelve-year-olds.
• Early readers—for young children learning to read
• Picture books—fully illustrated, for four to eight-year-olds (sometimes three to seven)
• Board books—for babies and toddlers, made to be tough so they can withstand everything babies throw at them, including chewing
• Graphic novels are also increasingly popular and can be for various age groups
• Non-fiction picture books and other, various ages

If you write a 3000-word picture book or a 120,000-word middle grade novel, expect it to be rejected. Your picture book should be under 1000 words when you submit it; in fact, the industry is tending toward books about half that length or less, currently. A middle grade novel over 60,000 words (75,000 words for fantasy) is going to be treated with serious caution. These word counts aren’t arbitrary, but have been defined by what sells and what works for young readers based on their age, comprehension skills, interests, and attention span. If you’ve written something 3000 words long, consider it may not be a picture book but perhaps a chapter book for slightly older readers—or it may just need editing, development, and revision. Agent Jennifer Laughran has an excellent post about word counts. 

Time spent in libraries and bookstores educating yourself about the different sub-genres of children’s books and reading both classic and recently published children’s books is not time wasted. Also, the industry has changed since you were a kid, so don’t rely on the stories you loved as a child for role models. Look at what is being published now.

Think story, not message

Remember when you were a kid and you got a lecture from your parents or a teacher? How did it make you feel? Did it feel great and make you beg for more? Or did you just wish you could get it over with? Compare how you felt when watching your favorite movie or reading your favorite book. Were you immersed and entertained and a little sorry when it was over? That is your job as the writer: to draw the reader in and immerse them in the narrative, not to deliver a lecture. The story should come first, and any message you are trying to convey or teach is best subtly delivered through the narrative, not by heavy-handed didactic lessons, which give a publisher or agent an easy reason to reject your manuscript. Kids should absorb any message or lesson by default, not because they’re having it flapped in their face.   

And while I’m on the subject of narrative, a weak narrative arc is one of the biggest reasons manuscripts get rejected. See myblog post on narrative issues.

Learn

One of the things that always surprises me is that newer writers think they should automatically know how to write a publishable story. You wouldn’t expect to win a tennis match the first time you played or give a great haircut or perform brain surgery without acquiring the necessary skills. So why do so many newer writers assume they should already know how to write for kids and feel terrible about negative feedback? We ALL have to travel the learning curve. If we don’t, forget getting (traditionally) published.

Take a course, read books about writing, read blogs about writing, join SCBWI, work with an editor or writing mentor, and above all, read, read, read.

Illustrations

Unless you are an illustrator and hope to have your own illustrations published with your story, you do not need to (and should not) have your manuscript illustrated before you submit it to traditional publishers or literary agents. If your story is acquired by a publisher, the publisher will choose an illustrator whose work complements your own. You have, in the vast majority of cases, no power over this decision, but keep in mind that publishers are very good at knowing what you intend, as well as seeing possibilities for your work that you might not have considered. Publishers tend to pair new writers with established illustrators so books can be marketed on the established party’s previous success in creating books that sell. Publishing is, after all, a business. 

Also, you do not need to make suggestions for what should be in the illustrations or about any matters of style, layout, typography, etc.

Of course, if you self-publish, you are in charge of it all. Keep in mind that illustrators will not work only for the promise of royalties somewhere down the track. Most will require a deposit and progress payments along the way. Illustration is a skilled and time-consuming process, and you wouldn’t expect your hairdresser or brain surgeon to provide services for free. Also, there is a difference between a graphic artist and a children’s book illustrator, and children’s book illustration has particular requirements that are best understood by someone who has studied children’s book illustration and knows how picture books work.

Revise

No work by any writer comes out perfect or publishable the first time. A lack of adequate revision is one of the biggest mistakes aspiring authors make, in my opinion. Revise, revise, revise. And then, revise some more.

Join or start a critique group

You need multiple sets of eyes on your work as you develop your work, revise, and then prepare for submission. Family and friends can be a great source of support, but they’re less likely to give accurate, impartial, or even knowledgeable critical feedback. A good critique group is also a source of support and friendships on the up-and-down journey to publication. SCBWI (see next point) can advise you about critique groups in your area.

Become a SCBWI member

TheSociety of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators is an invaluable resource for writers and illustrators alike (whether you seek traditional publication or plan to self-publish). You do not need to be published to join. It’s also a warm, friendly, generous, international community of like-minded people. It’s your tribe.

SCBWI conferences and events are a great source of information, inspiration, industry contacts, invitations to submit manuscripts, and enduring friendships. You can also sign up to have your manuscript or portfolio critiqued by an editor or agent.

Get to know people

“I wish I’d known that sometimes it isn’t enough to be a great writer,” one author friend told me. Imagine the following scenario: there are two equally excellent, highly marketable manuscripts, and an editor is forced to choose between them. Writer A is a complete unknown. The editor has not heard of him, and he has no social media presence. Writer B has become well-known by kid-lit industry folks over the years for her personable, easy-to-get-along with manner, and the editor has had very pleasant interactions with her several times at conferences and kid-lit events. When she critiqued Writer B’s work at a recent conference, Writer B was open to suggestion, easy to work with, and very appreciative of her advice. Turns out they’re even friends on Facebook and from time to time, the editor has chuckled at Writer B’s upbeat, amusing, positive, supportive (of fellow kid-lit folk), book-and-creativity related posts on social media, which bodes well for how she will interact with the buying public and how she will work to market her books. Which writer do you think is more likely to get the deal?   

Contests and Awards

One illustrator friend said she wished she’d known about writer and illustrator contests and awards before she’d progressed too far to enter them. SCBWI and its regional chapters offer various contests, awards, and scholarships, and there are other similar opportunities out there for writers. Just make sure that you do a thorough online search for any negative info about scam contests designed only to separate unwary, hopeful writers from their money. 

Submissions

This a topic for a blog post of its own, but some basics:

• format your text properly for submission and make sure it is properly copyedited without word misuse, spelling mistakes, punctuation and other grammatical errors, or typos.
• Write and revise an excellent query/cover letter. (See myblog post on writing queries for the kid-lit market.)
• Start with The Children’s Writers & illustrators Market (Writer’s Digest Books). Always use the latest edition. An excellent print resource for finding publishers and agents.
• Then make a list of suitable publishers who are accepting unsolicited manuscripts in the genre in which you are writing and confirm their submission guidelines on their website—then follow them!
• Avoid the scatter-gun approach to submissions by targeting your submissions to publishers and agents whose work is a good fit for your own. (I once had a client give me a list of publishers she’d submitted her sweet, lyrical picture book to, and one was a publisher who only published material about southwestern architecture and history…for adults.)
• If you submit to agents, don’t also submit to publishers. If an agent takes you on and then finds your manuscript has already been submitted to and rejected by a bunch of publishers she was going to contact, that’s annoying and self-defeating.
• Online resources such as QueryTracker.net and AgentQuery.com can help you navigate the process of finding an agent.
• Don’t be arrogant, gimmicky, or demanding. Be professional, polite, and personable. Don’t be a jerk. Nobody wants to work with a jerk. 
• Don’t take rejections personally. Look at them as a chance to improve your craft. EVERYONE, no matter how talented, gets them, and manuscripts are rejected for all sorts of reasons, some of which have nothing to do with the quality of the work. If you keep writing and submitting, you can expect to get a huge pile just like every other writer who eventually achieves publication. Learn to love rejection. 

Time

If you’re aiming for traditional publication, be aware that it will take time. Don’t expect that your first manuscript will be on the bookstore shelves in time for Christmas. It just doesn’t work that way. You first have to learn to write for kids—think of it as doing your apprenticeship. Learning takes time. Revising takes time. The submissions process takes time. (I don’t know anyone who’s achieved traditional publication in less than five years, and I know many who have taken longer.) And even if your book is acquired by a publisher, expect two years to pass before you hold your published book in your hands.  

Money

Don’t be quick to quit your day job, and don’t expect to make buckets of money when you are finally published. Kid-lit authors almost always supplement their book income by doing school visits, speaking engagements, teaching writing, and editing/mentoring.

The best reason to write for kids and create books is because you love writing for kids and creating books. This path is definitely a journey, not a destination—and a most wonderful journey it is. Remember the 3 P’s: passion, patience, and perseverance. Good luck!

Of Resolutions & Rituals, Purges, Goals, & Owls

I truly love this time of year. New Year is my absolute favorite holiday, and I have various rituals associated with it. I thought I’d share them with you; I really believe in their power and efficacy—and my wish for all of you for 2015 is empowerment and effectiveness.

At the end of the post, I’ll be sharing my usual special offer to celebrate New Year.

Happy New Year! I hope 2015 is a year of creative growth and forward motion for us all.

Wordy Bird’s New Year’s Rituals (live and uncut)

1. The Great Office-Studio Purge

This is a must. I do have a lovely room in which to work and create, but it does get rather out of hand, especially toward Christmas, and especially when I have a major creative project underway. Ok, it’s shocking and I'm (sort of) embarrassed, but I'm determined to keep it real here and I have promised a few people some before and after shots. Nobody's perfect, and life can get in the way of good intentions, but this is why you should look forward to and embrace the Purge. (But then, I have read that many creative people tend to do better work in chaotic spaces...)

Exquisite chaos, extreme shame.

Phoebe can't believe it either.

Nine-year-old me, who kept her books 

categorized and neat, would be incensed!

 You never know what you'll find...

The palette I've been looking for for ages. 

A terribly important magnetic Z.

These. 

Expect the chaos to get exponentially worse before it gets better.

There’s nothing like purging and starting the year with a tidy, clutter free, clean space. It feels fantastic. 

Organized by favorites, non-fiction, books
by friends, books I use for teaching, and "other."
Nine-year-old me would be proud. 

Phoebe is speechless.

I must have done a good job because my daughter just walked in and frowned. "It's too clean in here," she said. "Where's your real office?" Don't worry, sweetheart, it'll be back before you know it. 

Shame above me! I couldn't reach. Or face up to
getting rid of any books, if truth be told.

2. The Sublime Setting of the Goals

We all know that resolutions beg to be broken and can be rather self-defeating. I’m a HUGE advocate, however, of concrete goal-setting. I believe in writing goals down and keeping them close at hand. In my opinion, it’s the best kick starter to define what you want to achieve, hold yourself accountable, and actually get stuff done.   

I usually reassess my goals around midyear. There’s nothing wrong with reassessment and a shift in priorities; in fact, to not reassess your goals is folly. Situations change, unexpected opportunities arise, and so sometimes you need to shift course before you crash and burn. And note I said “reassess” and “shift,” not lower. Never lower you expectations. Big goals, even if they seem outside the realm of the possible, will keep you focused and take you further than lower expectations. Big goals must, of course, be broken into smaller discrete goals, stepping stones to the big one.

When making my annual goals, I find the following categories helpful as a launching point: health/fitness, relationships, financial, career, spiritual/philosophical/personal growth, creative. Again, I highly recommend avoiding resolutions in favor of making concrete goals with deadlines. That gets the subconscious working out possible steps to achieving them on time.

Compare:

I resolve to make a lot more new art this year.  

to

I will complete my new portfolio by April 15^th.

And, yes, this is an actual one from my list.

Another goal I have is to see a snowy owl, up close, this year. I took this a few days ago with my phone... through a telescope. 

So close to success, but so far...Again. The snowy owl is my feathered white whale. Ok, so some goals are somewhat dependent on factors outside your control. But I can control how often I go birding and just how hard I’m willing to work to see the snowy. And you can do the same for your goals. No excuses!

3. The Fresh Fancy Journal

I use this each day to list my tasks and goals for the day, and it’s satisfying to tick them off one by one, have a record of what I’ve achieved, and get a lot done. So before New Year, I buy a high quality, beautiful journal. It takes me ages to choose usually, but my lovely daughter gave me this perfect one for Christmas. I write my year’s goals in the first few pages, so they are always at hand.

4. First Dawn

No matter how I celebrate New Year’s Eve itself, I always get up to watch the year’s first sunrise. (This morning it was well below freezing and I’d only had three hours sleep, but First Dawn was absolutely worth the numb nose and head-swimming fatigue.) 

Do you have special New Year rituals? I’d love to hear what they are and how you feel about goals and resolutions.

As I always do at this time of year, and in the spirit of making goals and keeping deadlines, I’m offering 20% off editing services contracted and deposit paid by January 31st, 2015. Editing services include: developmental editing, copyediting and proofreading, critiques, and writing instruction. Contract start can be on a future date, as long as it is by September 1^st, 2015. Contact me: wordybirdie AT gmail.com

Wishing you a wonderful 2015.

What’s wrong with my picture book text?!

You just can’t quite put your finger on it.

You’ve written and rewritten and revised and tweaked and proofed. You’ve fabulous, well-rounded characters, the language sings, and the hilarious gags only underline the importance and depth of your theme. You had some POV issues, but you’ve fixed those now. It might be something about the pacing, but the story seems to move along all right. It must be something about the beginning… or perhaps it's about the end…

This is common in the picture book manuscripts of less experienced writers, but I’ve seen it many times in unpublished manuscripts by published authors, too: a fundamental weakness in narrative and character arc, an essential flaw of logic that affects pacing and much else. (And you can apply this to stories for older readers, too.)

If you can't put your finger on what’s wrong, it’s quite likely you simply have a problem with your skeleton. The basic narrative/character arc is your story’s skeleton. It is the structure upon which all else sits.

McGregor Museum.
Click image to visit original site.

Let’s stretch this analogy to its limit: characters are vital organs, their details and the setting are muscles, and the events within the story are like the tendons to push and pull them. The language and style are the skin, dialogue like clothing. Correct grammar and spelling are like fine jewelry. (Proper formatting is a waft of intoxicating perfume. If it stinks, an editor/agent will want to get away. If it’s pleasing, we may want to get closer.)

But it doesn't matter how fancy the clothes, or how exquisite the jewelry—if the skeleton isn’t strong and symmetrical, the story won’t stand up straight.

Start by asking yourself the following questions:

• What promise do I make to the reader in the beginning?
• Does the ending deliver upon that promise?
• Does the beginning set up the conditions for what I deliver in the end?
• Do I steadily escalate the problem I set up at the beginning all the way to the climax?
• Does the resolution come immediately after the climax?

Strong story skeletons have symmetry. The beginning and end are in balance, the bookends to the middle. One asks a question, and the other answers that question honestly. Other things may well come to light in the quest for the answer, but the beginning tells us what must be answered. The end must comply. But the middle is far from symmetrical; it is a steadily steepening slope toward the climax.

The most common narrative mistakes I see include:

• Stories that start in one place with one problem, then continue and/or end in a completely different place with quite a different problem solved. A story about a quest for a friend suddenly becomes a story about dealing with a bully.
• The protagonist changes halfway through. A story starts with a mother cat worried for her kittens, and segues into the story of a young cat who just needs a good friend.
• The parts of the narrative are not in the right places or of the right duration:

o   The manuscript has a lengthy, introduction-style beginning, rather than just diving straight into the story.

o   The climax comes too early, making the resolution far too long and often off-track, or even well into a second story.  

• The problem doesn’t escalate enough; the tension remains the same or even decreases over time.
• The correct problem is solved, but not by the protagonist.

Your story’s beginning should convey who your protagonist is, their desire, and why they want it. If the problem isn’t introduced by about two thirds of the way—or less—down the first page of your properly formatted manuscript, it’s probably running late.

Once you know how your story begins, you’ll have cues to how the story must end. The protagonist must—through their own action—either achieve their desire or have grown beyond it. How that achievement and growth comes about is all the rest of your story—the middle, ever escalating toward the inevitable climax.

And be thoughtful when defining your protagonist's real desire. The protagonist's true desire is usually not something material or concrete, though it may manifest itself that way. The protagonist’s desire for the material is a projection of a much deeper desire or emotional need. The emotional need is the “why” of the desire—why the protagonist really wants whatever they want. It’s the emotional need that must be satisfied in the end, whether or not the material desire is acquired. This is where character growth truly lies. And a strong, symmetrical story skeleton requires growth and change. 

The Liberation of the “Shitty First Draft” (or Don’t Get Stuck in the Bog)

© Marlo Garnsworthy 2013

Years of editing have taught me a great deal about writing, and I’m very grateful for it. But an editor’s path can be a tricky one when it comes to writing her own book. As so many of you who are inclined toward self-editing will know, it’s so easy to get mired in the morass of perfecting each paragraph in chapters one to three, when you really know you should be leaping with abandon though the narrative.

Anne Lamott, in Bird By Bird, Some Instructions on Writing and Life (what’s not to love with a title like that?), speaks of the importance of allowing yourself to write “shitty first drafts”:

Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor, the enemy of the people. It will keep       you cramped and insane your whole life, and it is the main obstacle between you and a shitty first draft. I think perfectionism is based on the obsessive belief that if you run carefully enough, hitting each stepping-stone just right, you won't have to die. The truth is that you will die anyway and that a lot of people who aren't even looking at their feet are going to do a whole lot better than you, and have a lot more fun while they're doing it.  

Possibly you, like me, have more than one manuscript that has been well and truly stymied before the halfway mark by agonizing over individual scenes (or, more often, sentences) before you have the basic plot down. If one is lucky enough to feel the rush of love that comes with a new project, one should keep going and not fuss it to death a few steps in. There will be time enough for revision and the subtleties of each phrase later on. Plenty of time to fill in the richer details. Loads of time, in fact, as revision should be at least nine tenths of writing a book. (If you love revision and editing, as I do, that’s great news. But if you’re past the honeymoon phase with your project, or if you never really fell in love in the first place, you’d still be well advised to forge ahead and not edit. You’re already on the edge of a soul-sucking quagmire.)

I'm finding it's very freeing to allow yourself to write stuff that sounds awful (rather like this sentence). I’m taking my own advice on this project I started a few weeks ago, and I’m writing mad wonderful garbage. At least, if I were to read it as an editor, I’d think, “Oh dear, we do have quite a bit of work to do here, possibly starting with the basics of sentence construction, but there’s something special about the story.” But I’m not editing; I’m just getting scraps of scenes down. I’m letting characters say what they want to say even if it’s repetitive or nonsensical right now. I’m catching incomplete impressions, jotting unfinished and ridiculous sentences, and I’m ignoring my spellchecker until the end of each writing session. I’m letting the story reveal itself as I forge about it without stopping—and lo and behold, it is.  

The only time I’m returning to a paragraph is when something additional or better occurs to me in a flash of inspiration as I pass by it. I must admit there have been a few sentences that I have tweaked, but only—and this is the kicker—ONLY when a better way to say something comes to me as part of this naturally energized process, that is, only within the pure flow of inspiration. If I catch myself starting to fuss, I stop and move away from the paragraph or scene. Among other strategies and even more strategies I’ve discussed before, try simply scrolling through the manuscript or through your notes until something else catches your attention. Turn your focus to another scene altogether, whichever tugs you hardest, and then start writing forward afresh. 

Your draft might sound like muck, but you’ll be finding your way across the narrative terrain, though possibly chaotically. Sure, you might arrive muddy, disheveled, feathers askew, but you’ll be creating a map, almost by default, which you can later refine and revise. You’ll know the basic way, relatively quickly, and with MUCH more FUN. It doesn't mean you won’t write some dead-ends on your map along the way, because there will be some, of course. 

Move on through that mucky, messy, probably non-linear first draft, before the energy and the will to make the journey flee. Before you lose sight of what you really wanted to write about. Before the maps for possible plot-lines are so thick around you, you cannot see your way past them. Before you're afraid to even try. Don’t get bogged down planning the trip and what you might need along the way, or whether you even know where your story is going. Start somewhere (wherever you are is just fine), and just get on your way. Because it’s extraordinary how you tend to get where you want to go, if you keep your gaze fixed on the horizon, stare less at the stuff by the wayside... and just start writing.

The Path to Publication

Image by me.

Very recently, a writer asked me to be honest about whether he should continue to pursue writing or not. It’s not the first time I’ve been asked that question. It always catches me very off guard, but it does make me want to say what follows:

I’m really not the one you should be asking. 

It would be the height of arrogance and stupidity for me—or anyone else—to suggest someone not pursue writing. We all start somewhere, and we all have quite a learning curve. Everybody. If we write, it’s because we are writers. And so we must write (or paint or sculpt or garden or whatever) or shrivel up and die a bitter, strangled creative/spiritual death.

But should we ‘pursue’ it…which I assume really means ‘pursue publication’?

When I was a younger, less experienced editor (and probably thought I knew more than I did, as is natural), I worked with a gentleman who was determined to be an author. He was incredibly eager, earnest, and gung-ho, but he just seemed to be starting in a difficult place. His work seemed a bit… well, unpublishable. But he just wanted to keep trying, no matter what the critique.

And so he did.

We kept working together, multiple drafts of first one book  and then another, both of us learning much along the way. Beneath the unpublishable veneer of what he was doing, there was something wonderful and inspired and rich in what he thought and felt and cared about. But it was just all coming out in ways that were not working at all. In truth, I didn’t think his chances of ever getting published were very good. I was almost certain he wouldn’t, in fact, even though I wanted it for him. But he loved it and wanted it for himself, and that’s all he saw in front of him (or so it seemed to me). So no matter what, he just kept on.

I don’t know what ups and downs he went through on his private journey as a writer, but I guess they’re the ups and downs we all go through. The self-doubt and the frustration, the elation and late nights. All I saw was his consistent drive, the revising, the eagerness, the upbeat attitude, the desire, the focus, and the pleasant, grateful willingness to listen intently, to learn every single thing he could. When he was ready he let go of ideas he’d tried and which he now understood weren't working. He tried new things that incorporated new knowledge. He was willing and ego-free and hardworking.

And he quickly proved me wrong. He grew. His work became good, then really good (in my humble opinion). It was amazing and wonderful to watch. He soon did what I had not managed to do at that point: he found a publisher who wanted his book, signed the contract, and produced a very saleable story with a lovely heart and appealing vehicle. I’ve never seen a writer with such a short journey to (traditional) publication. (Sure, it took years, but not even close to double digits like most of us.) 

He might well have wondered if he’d ever be a published writer. He never discussed that with me. Yet he knew he would, no matter how long or how hard the journey. He was the only one he needed to ask. 

What’s in a Name? Or… With Apologies to Those Named “Milt”

Birthplace of the character formerly known as "Milt"

I don’t usually spend a great deal of time thinking about the names of characters. They usually just seem to fly out of the ether, I insert them, and they stick, or at least that has been my experience.

So when I began the story I’m writing now, I didn’t think too much of it when one of my major characters decided he’d be Milt. I stuck the name in, and kept writing. As time went on—despite growing ever more excited about the story and knowing Milt was going to be quite important—I found myself not that interested in writing the scenes with Milt in them. I rationalized that it was because though Milt is very important, he’s not physically present for a lot of the book.

But as time has gone on, and the first half has taken a more solid shape, I started to wonder if I was actively avoiding him. I had trouble knowing who he was. He was coming across as sniffly. He seemed thin, too tall, too often pushing a pair of glasses back up onto his nose. Oh no, he was growing buck teeth and a lisp and telltale bumps, which would soon be pimples. He was a stereotype of a sidekick, and a weak, uninteresting foil for my MC. I couldn’t get hold of him, and I really had no desire to.   

Then in Australia, on a long train ride in the Outback, though hot little rural towns and vast parched fields spotted with sheep and huge old gum trees, I had a little epiphany. It felt that the character I wanted Milt to be would thrive in this kind of demanding environment. I could see him climbing over the rusted car bodies and water tanks beside the train line, chasing his mates through the bush, roaring like a dragon. He was gravely voiced, shortish, and stocky, tough and quick with a grin—and he most certainly was not named Milt.

Another name began to whisper, to shout, and then take hold. About two weeks ago I replaced “Milt” with this other name (which still starts with M).  It’s one of the best writing decisions I’ve ever made. I know who he is at last and it has opened up new dialogue, new scenes, and unraveled parts of my plot I had no idea about. It has affected the entire project.

What’s in a name?  If my experience is anything to go by, a lot when it comes to your characters. They have to resonate for you—and if they do, I think they’ll have a better chance of resonating for your audience, because you will know them. You’ll better convey who they really are to your reader.

Back to the Drawing Board

It’s 3:40, I’m all caught up with work, Chickling is at the Elder Birds for a couple of nights, and so it’s time to start my homework. The dishes can wait. I’m allowed to start my homework. I’m “actively allowing” myself to draw—how very cool and strangely distorted is that? But it’s something I go through every time I sit down to do this. Scourge of the worker-mother, I guess.

Oooooooh, I love homework—even when it’s torturing me*—and I love the fact that I have to do it. Especially this week. I have to pull out all the stops and produce something with high levels of awesome this week. I have to. It’s the last class, and our final projects are due on the crit wall 6:30pm Wednesday. 

*I’m not as far along as I’d like to be in the design process. My ideas for my piece are not as advanced as I’d hoped. I was a little concerned about that before class, but when I got it up there on the crit wall it was quite clear to me. I didn’t feel it, what I'd produced, and I certainly didn’t feel that others would feel it, at least not in the way I intended it. And though I accept that as part of the creative process, I felt flat...just a little bit. I was on the way to that quiet, thoughtful place that comes before starting over.    

You know that place.

...when you know it’s all there in your mind, and you’re just waiting to coax it out—in a way that it works, this time. The mug of tea is steeping, and you're adjusting the music on your iTunes. You’re on the verge of revising. It's going to be challenging, but you’re about to have a wild blast. And it feels amazing.