For Writers

Inspiration for Famous Authors

Writers are often told to write what they know. Even if they end up writing fantasy, some of their real life often creeps into the story. I recently enjoyed a Children’s Literature Tour of England and Scotland to see the homes and work spaces of famous authors, and I was surprised to see the little details (or sometimes more) from their homes or towns that crept into their work. See if you can recognize any of these places from the books.

Lucy Boston Children of Green Knowe

Tolly arrives at Green Knowe, and this is his bedroom. He leaves his window open a little bit so a bird can fly in. Here’s the bird cage and toy chest too. The room Lucy Boston described in the book belonged to her son, Peter. They’ve kept the room the same so visitors to the house can see what it looked like long ago.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

C. S. Lewis The Lion, The Witch, & the Wardrobe

When Lucy walks into the wardrobe, she heads toward a lamppost in the snow and meets a faun. When Author C. S. Lewis walked along this path in Oxford, he passed this lamppost. Can you imagine him seeing it on a snowy day? What’s even more interesting is that the porch posts on a nearby house have fauns carved into them. Could that be where he got his idea?


J. K. Rowling  Harry Potter

So many scenes in the Harry Potter books and movies are drawn from Oxford. Do these scenes from the Buttery, the Sorting Room, and the staircase look familiar? How about taking a ride on a steam train? Do you think any of these inspired J. K. Rowling?



Howard Pyle  Robin Hood

This giant oak still stands in Sherwood Forest, Nottinghamshire, England. Its branches are now propped up, but can you picture this mighty tree sheltering Robin Hood and his band of merry men?

Nancy Farmer  Sea of Trolls

The Holy Isle of Lindsifarne, a tidal island off the coast of England is cut off from the mainland during high tide. Visitors to the tiny town are trapped on the island until low tide. Isn’t this mysterious island the perfect setting for the Sea of Trolls trilogy?

Dreams and Rejection in the Writerly Life

Last night, I dreamed I was at a resort. There was some sort of reception on a beach, and people from my high school were there. Everyone spoke to me, even the ones I had perceived as more popular, more attractive, more intelligent, more likeable than me in high school.

Someone called for the group to move toward the restaurant, and we did. Once inside, the tables filled quickly with groups of friends, chatting, taking seats, and saving chairs for others.

I couldn’t find a seat.

I asked at one table, and the friendly chatter ceased. A woman shook her head “No” and placed an arm over an empty chair, guarding it. Not quite sure how to deal with this shifted level of acceptance, I went to the buffet, where instead of a plate, I was handed a brown paper bag.  I filled the bag with fruit, cheese, and bread, and then took it outside to sit alone on the grass. I fed the bread to the birds nearby.

Now, I know where this dream originated.  It came from two fresh sources.

First, I had a book launch this past week. A high school classmate, who was and still is a dear friend, came the book signing, which happened to be in her town, two hours from where we both grew up. We posted pictures of us together on social media, and as a result, high school friends commented. Even ones I had perceived as so much more popular, attractive, likeable … you get it.

Second, a writer friend this week posted a research question on a writer’s group page. She asked, “At what age do you think children start being exclusionary when it comes to allowing others to sit at their lunch table?”

So, the dream – with its themes of acceptance and rejection – had solid origins. Still, when I awoke, I was amazed by how very real, raw, and current old feelings (and I mean old; high school was a long time ago) could be. As a writer of books for young readers, I feel fortunate that I can recall what it felt like to be thirteen, fourteen, even ten.

And then it occurred to me that maybe it’s because I am writer that I’m still able to connect in such a visceral way with feelings of rejection. Rejection, after all, is a large part of every writer’s life. If it’s not, you’re not putting your writing out into the world.

Early on, writers face lots of rejection. Nearly every book published was once (or twice or twenty times) rejected. We’ve all heard (various versions of) how many times J.K. Rowling was told “No, thanks” before the Harry Potter series was published.  We’re rejected by editors, by agents, we don’t win contests, we send our work out into the world and … crickets.

But even amid success, published authors continue to hear that their work, or sometimes worse yet, they are not wanted or needed. We create brilliant proposals for workshops, we apply for faculty positions at conferences, we hope to be invited, included, asked, or needed. And sometimes, we get what we hoped for. And often, we don’t.

The inimitable Jane Yolen – you might know that she’s now published more than 365 books in her career, hence #Yolen365 – frequently posts her rejections on Facebook. Yes, publishers reject Jane Yolen. Even today. She reminds us that you’re never too successful to cease the hard work that made you successful in the first place. You must put yourself and your work out there. Often. Even if it means you’re rejected more often.

So, in Jane’s spirit, I’ll give you a glimpse into my year so far: I’ve had 5 manuscript rejections and 2 offers. I joined a stellar cast of authors to create a well-thought-out STEM-related panel proposal at a major national education conference – and we were rejected. I’ve applied for faculty positions at four writing conferences – and I’m happy to say that I’ll be on the SCBWI Regional Fall Conference faculties in Ohio and Wisconsin, but not in two other states. I applied for a prestigious children’s book festival and was rejected. I admit, it was a little difficult seeing fellow authors post their pictures from that festival, but I am invited to four other book festivals in 2018. I applied for and was accepted into a select program for published picture book authors. I’ve stretched my wings with a submission in a brand new genre (for me), and I’m patiently, but realistically, waiting to hear about that.

If I could go back to sleep and reenter that dream, I’d confidently approach another table. I’d find someone else who looked alone, I’d smile and introduce myself to someone. In other words, I’d try again.

We can’t let rejection isolate us. We can’t let self-doubt creep in. Writers must persevere even when it feels easier to give up. Otherwise, we find ourselves alone, feeding our dinner to the birds.

 

 

 

Dogs, Skunks & Writing

My wife takes our two dogs running almost every morning. I stay in bed because her version of running is the “all pain, no gain” variety—it involves neither a court nor a basketball. This routine didn’t affect my life until The-Morning-Which-Will-Not-Be-Named.

Skunk: 1. Dogs: 0.

Skunked dog

Fortunately, there are writing-based insights to be gained from a pair of odoriferous mutts. Here are three lessons I’ve learned about dogs, skunks, and writing:

1)      Finding writing time is like bathing a skunked dog. You can always come up with something to do that seems more pressing. There are bills to pay, emails to answer, papers to grade. You can dart and dodge and distract. But the dog still stinks. And the story still needs written. Eventually, you have to push aside your excuses and just write. You also have to bathe the stinking dog.

2)      A single approach is rarely enough to solve the problem. Tomato juice. Dish soap. Baking soda. There are multiple methods for cutting the odor of a skunk-sprayed pooch. But to really deal with the problem, you’ll probably have to put more than just one of those methods to use. Similarly, when you run into a problem with your writing—a scene that drags, a middle that droops—don’t lock onto a single solution. Read your work aloud. Take a walk. Seek a critique. Step away from your computer and put pencil to paper. Take as many different approaches as needed to get your writing humming again. And maybe give the dog one more scrubbing, too.

3)      Rainy days bring reminders. The odor fades. You find yourself forgetting your dog ever had a run-in with a skunk’s backside. Then it rains. Wet dog fur releases latent skunk scent in an exceptionally memorable way. And just like the rainy setting affects the potency of skunky dog fur, a story’s setting should affect the plot. The Harry Potter series wouldn’t be the same without the quirks of Hogwarts. The Hunger Games wouldn’t be the same without the districts. Setting should be more than a simple, silent backdrop. Make it matter.

And there you have it—the three writing lessons I learned from two dogs and one skunk. If you have another insight or writing tip to share, feel free to post it in the comments below. And even if you didn’t learn anything new about writing from today’s post . . . well . . . I hope you at least learned to stay away from skunks.