Posts Tagged #amwriting

Storystorm: It’s Not (Just) for Picture Book Writers

By on March 3, 2021   /   Articles  

Tired of sitting on the sidelines while her novelist friends participated in NaNoWriMo each November, kidlit author Tara Lazar created PiBoIdMo (Picture Book Idea Month), a monthlong brainstorming event for picture book writers: 30 ideas in 30 days.

That was back in 2009. The event has since been renamed Storystorm, in order to be reflect a “broader range” of writers, moved to January, and now boasts nearly 2,000 participants from across the country and around the world—professionals, amateurs, teachers, and students alike.

Ready, Set… GO!

 

 

 

With this in mind, and eager to get my fun on during the dark days of Covid, I decided to give Storystorm a try. How hard could it be?

Harder than I thought. The first week went by relatively smoothly, with ideas spewing from my brain like Vesuvius lava. But by Day #11, I found myself scraping the bottom of the idea barrel. Such gems from my notebook include: “Tween kidnapping ring”; “Reality show for middle-school tuba players”; and, simply, “oranges.”

In frustration, I decided to kick Storystorm to the curb. The event was for picture book writers, I rationalized—not for middle-grade authors who wrote entire novels. The challenge was that much harder for us.

That was just an excuse, of course. The real reason I didn’t want to continue the challenge is that it was far outside comfort zone. Like, Timbuktu far. I also felt pressure to come up with the “perfect” idea for my next novel. The idea that would catapult me to MG superstardom and make readers go, “Jeff Kinney, who…?”

Under Pressure

Unfortunately, and as any writer knows, pressure can stop creativity dead in its tracks. It can also make you feel “less than” as a writer. So, instead of seeking perfection (which doesn’t exist, anyway), I decided to have fun with the challenge. I added “What if…?” and “maybe” sentences to my brainstorming sessions:

“What if the main character is forced to live with her crotchety grandmother for the summer?”

“What if she’s left-handed, with fiery red hair, and a dime-size gap between her two front teeth?” “Maybe she’s a gifted tap dancer who loves Cheetos.”

“Maybe she’s five feet tall…”

This helped ease the pressure that declarative statements can often bring. Once I started to enjoy the Storystorm journey, rather than the destination, I felt myself relax. And even better? I crossed the finish line, with a slew of sparkling new ideas.

And now, without further ado…

Five questions for the creator of Storystorm, Tara Lazar

MR: Hi, Tara! I know this isn’t your first Mixed-Up Files rodeo. You appeared on the blog in 2019, with this interview by Mindy Alyse Weiss. Welcome back!

TL: Merci beaucoup!

MR: As above, you created StoryStorm in 2009, as a response to NaNoWriMo. Which aspects of the event have changed most since then? What remains the same?

TL: The name and the month changed—because if I had thought about it for two seconds, I would’ve realized that PiBoIdMo is a terrible name and November is an awful month to get anything done. Plus, the first year, I wrote HALF of all the blog posts. Fifteen! Talk about scraping the bottom of the barrel for ideas! The following year I invited more authors and illustrators to guest blog and I took on a more administrative role.

Advice for MG writers (including yours truly)?

MR: As I mentioned in the intro, as an MG author I had a hard time generating 30 ideas in 31 days. It felt like a lot! In your opinion, is brainstorming different for writers of MG fiction and nonfiction? What advice do you have for MG writers specifically, in terms of idea generation?

TL: I think picture books sell based more upon concept than MG novels. MG novels have much more “meat” to them—yes, they can have a brilliant premise, but voice, plot, subplot and language play a bigger role than in picture books. Picture books are generally a tougher sell, so the more manuscripts you have, the better a position you’re in. As an MG author you probably don’t need as many ideas as PB authors do, but I believe the more ideas from which to choose, the better.

Storystorm in the classroom

MR: Educators, such as teachers and librarians, are encouraged to participate in Storystorm. From what you’ve seen and heard, what are the most effective ways educators have used Storystorm in the classroom?

TL: Teachers put the daily blog posts on their smartboards in the classroom and encourage their students to brainstorm at the start of the school day. It’s an easy way to get students into a creative mode, plus they will have a portfolio of ideas ready to go for their next writing assignment. It eliminates that “blank page” fear! Writing is less daunting if students already know what to write about!

MR: You can say that again. Now, I’m curious, Tara… Do you participate in Storystorm yourself? If so, have any of your published or soon-to-be-published books been Storystorm ideas? Enquiring minds want to know!

TL: I do, and I don’t. I generate ideas all year long so I don’t necessarily need to do Storystorm, plus I’m busy behind the scenes. If I get ideas during the event, I write them down, like always. The whole point of Storystorm is to create a habit for writers, and I’ve already cultivated it!

Free to Be You and Me

MR: You sure have. What advice do you have for MG writers who are reluctant to participate in Storystorm because they feel intimidated? Let’s hear your best sales pitch. 🙂 

TL:  It’s free. There’s a great community of writers to keep you on track, and there’s no punishment if you don’t get 30 ideas. And your ideas are for your eyes only—no one has to see them if you don’t want to share. You’re going to end the month with more story ideas than you had before it began, so what have you got to lose? Nuthin’. Did I mention it’s free?

MR: Thank you so much for joining us again on Mixed-Up Files, Tara. And thanks for everything you do for the kidlit community!

About Tara

TARA LAZAR is the author of several picture books, including the award-winning 7 ATE 9: THE UNTOLD STORY from Little, Brown. Her next book BLOOP is illustrated by Mike Boldt and releases from HarperCollins in July ’21.

Tara is the co-chair of the Rutgers University Council on Children’s Literature One-on-One Plus Conference and an SCBWI member. She writes flash fiction for adults and serves as an inspirational speaker, based on her battle with Primary Progressive Multiple Sclerosis.

Tara lives in New Jersey with her husband, two teenage daughters, and a recently rescued stray cat, Phoebe. Learn more about Tara on her website, Twitter and Instagram.

The Skinny on Storystorm: What other MG writers are saying…

Wendy McLeod MacKnight, MG author of It’s Not a Mystery, Pig Face; The Frame-Up; and The CopyCat: “As an author who both struggles to come up with ideas AND flesh them out, Storystorm has been a creative godsend! I’ve got new tools for my idea-generation toolkit and a bunch of shiny new ideas to work on in 2021! I can’t wait for the next iteration!”

Christiana Doucette, MG writer: “Brainstorming alongside so many other writers—the energy and encouragement—has helped me to create an idea-seeds spreadsheet. I’m excited to sift through my list and start drafting my next story.”

Andrea Mack, writer of PBs and MG fiction: “I love how generating ideas through Storystorm inspires me by opening the door to my creativity. Sometimes I get ideas for developing my characters, plot events, or interesting details. If none of the ideas works for my story, starting my day by adding an idea or two to my list sets me up for a good writing day. And I love how I have that whole list of ideas to fall back on when my writing isn’t going anywhere.”

Mindy Alyse Weiss, Mixed-Up Files contributor and PB/MG writer: “Not only is Storystorm great for coming up with potential series ideas, I’ve found that a few ideas can mesh together into one amazing one. Also, I’ve discovered a few tricks to spark ideas, thanks to some of Tara’s archived posts. The ones I use most are: 500+ Things That Kids Like and 100+ Things Kids Don’t Like. I also scroll back to posts from previous years, for both Storystorm and the original PiBoIdMo. Tammi Sauer’s posts are always a huge help!”

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EPIC GARDENING FAILS (And what they’ve taught me about making art)

By on September 14, 2020   /   Articles, Writing  

Growing Food and Writing Fiction

This spring my wife and I decided to stop talking about growing vegetables and actually grow some vegetables. We made this decision without doing much research about the actual business of growing vegetables, and that was mostly thanks to me. Any time my wife opened up a blog or website about growing techniques or climate zones, I’d launch into a lengthy monologue about how vegetables don’t need coddling and if it were really that hard there wouldn’t be gazillions of weeds in our yard. 

It turns out growing an eggplant is not the same thing as growing a weed. I suppose this explains why our front yard is not overrun with perfectly formed eggplants. 

So I’ve learned a few things about vegetable gardening. And as is often the case, the things I learn in one pursuit inevitably influence the way I think about others. In this case, I’ve noticed a few parallels between my questionable attempts at growing food and my questionable attempts at writing fiction for children. I’m sharing them here because whether you’re writing, teaching, parenting, or growing eggplants, it never hurts to glean a little extra information as you go (which I now humbly acknowledge).

Not everything develops as planned.

Radishes are deceptive little devils. They sprout fast and grow bright, promising leaves. You fawn over them and marvel at how they’ve been so easy to grow and why don’t more people grow radishes? Then you pull them out of the ground after the prescribed 28-day period and realize you’ve been duped. At least that was my experience. We harvested those little liars and I couldn’t believe that after 4 weeks I had nothing to show for all my efforts (and yes, all my bragging), but a few marble-sized nuggets of crunchy vermillion failure. 

The radish project looked promising. It all had the signs of a successful enterprise, but under the surface things weren’t developing the way they were supposed to. I have no idea why. Maybe it was the soil. Maybe I watered them too much. Or too little. I may never know. Just like I may never know why the first hundred thousand words I put into middle grade books didn’t develop into huge publishing contracts. But in both cases – my radishes and my writing – I have an opportunity to examine the finished project, no matter how disappointing, and try to figure out what went wrong. I think with the radishes it was the soil. I’m not sure what the writerly equivalent to that would be (stronger coffee during my drafting sessions?). But I’m going to keep exploring, keep dissecting those underdeveloped projects and trade the frustration of an unrealized goal for the promise of a new, and hopefully better crop next season.

 

Things get bitter when they drag on for too long.

A few people warned us that we’d eventually lose control of our zucchini plants. I shrugged at this, because how could you lose track of a zucchini? They’re bright green and quite large, and those people who lose track of them are probably not as committed to the art of home gardening as I am. But then summer happened – days of busy children and travel and sometimes way too much rain. One day I went out to make sure there wasn’t anything to harvest and found a zucchini the size of my arm snugged up against the wall of the garden. Without giving it much thought (I was still shunning research at this point) I paraded it around the house and then chopped it up for the grill. As I’m sure you’ve already guessed, it was terrible. The skin was tough, the flesh was mealy and bitter, and the seeds were gigantic and totally inedible. That zucchini had been growing for way too long.

I don’t know about you, but I have a few ongoing personal projects that have also reached “zucchini monstrosity” status. They’re the sort of things that never seem finished, and rather than harvesting what I have or simply moving on, I’ve let these projects remain connected to the vine of my creative brain and sap resources from other, more promising ideas.

After chewing my way through that thoroughly unappetizing zucchini, I resolved to never let anything grow that long again, and so far I’m doing better. I hope I can say the same for my creative pursuits – nothing is meant in to go on forever, and as many creatives have noted throughout history, art is never finished, but only abandoned.

 

Sometimes the most useful part of a project is the seed of something new.

Before I tossed that colossal zucchini in the compost pile, I finally broke down and looked up an online article about harvesting seeds. It turns out that in most cases you can only harvest the seeds of overripe, inedible fruit. So I left some uncooked seeds out to dry, then bagged them in an envelope and now have what I hope will be the beginnings of my zucchini crop next year. 

Something similar happened with the second book I ever wrote. It was quite a dud – full of tropes and predictable plot twists. It was long, too.  Much too wordy for the middle grade market. And that of course means I spent way too much time writing, editing, and rewriting what would ultimately be a book not even my mom would read (although she did ask several times). 

But out of that project came a system of developing characters that I still use now, three books and many short stories later. It was a seed born out of an overripe project that itself would never see the light of day. Most failed endeavors have something like that if you look for it – a seed of something new, pure potential packed into a tiny morsel of nearly overlooked insight. 

I think next year our garden will run a little more smoothly. Maybe the corn won’t fall over and the squash won’t vine its way to the top of our evergreen tree. Or maybe next season will be just as chaotic and I’ll have more lessons to learn. Either way, I’ll do my best to be thankful for the parallels and cultivate the garden of my writing with a bit more efficiency and skill. 

And I suppose reading a few extra articles wouldn’t hurt, either. 

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When Life Gets in the Way: Writing through Tough Times

By on January 22, 2020   /   Articles, For Writers, Health, Writing, Writing  

Four months after my debut novel, Kat Greene Comes Clean, was published, my father went missing. It was late December, bitterly cold, and he left without a coat. And his cane. At 95, my dad was extremely frail, and he suffered from dementia. I called 911 in a panic.

Within minutes, NYPD detectives flooded my parents’ Manhattan apartment, asking questions and taking notes. They issued a Silver Alert, and promised to find my dad. “The old guys never get far,” the lead detective assured me. “Don’t worry.”

My mom wasn’t worried because, like my dad, she has dementia and had no idea what was going on. But I was a nervous wreck. New York is a big place, and my dad was probably confused, hungry, and cold. I feared the worst.

Afternoon turned into evening, and then into night. Finally, my father was located at the Empire Hotel, two blocks from Lincoln Center. He had taken a cab, the fare paid in coins from a velvet Alexander McQueen makeup bag. If I found this detail confounding, imagine my surprise when the hotel manager informed me that my dad had checked himself into a room, raided the minibar, and owed $685 plus tax. I would have paid anything, of course. My dad was safe.

But then, four months and three health-care aides later, my dad went missing… again. This time, he was found wandering the streets of SoHo, with a broken finger and lacerations on his face. He was rushed to the hospital, where I met him in the ER. He wasn’t as lucky this time. He developed a severe kidney infection and, after half a year in hospice care, passed away at home. He was 96 years old.

Now, I know what you’re thinking: This story is depressing! You write funny stuff. BE FUNNY!

I wish I could. But at the time, there was no room in my life for humor—or for writing. I tried, but I didn’t have the emotional bandwidth to succeed. I was always on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop. And it did. Again, and again, and again.

I’m still dealing with my fair share of stress (my mom now has advanced dementia), but I’ve found a way to balance life-related responsibilities with my writing. Here’s how you can, too:

Adjust your expectations. If you’re going through tough times—and, like me, juggling a zillion things at once—there’s no way you can be as productive, or as focused, as you were before. Think about it: Your brain has to work overtime just to keep up! Plus, stress has a sneaky way of sapping your emotional and physical energy. So, if you can, cut yourself some slack. Set realistic, manageable writing goals. If you’re used to writing 2,000 words a day, write a thousand. Or five hundred, or 250. Or whatever number your schedule, and emotional energy, allows. If you don’t hit a specific target, that’s okay too. Just write every day, even if it’s for 15 minutes. You’ll feel good for having done it.

Try journaling. Expressing your thoughts and feelings in written form is an excellent stress-management tool. It’s also been shown to be highly therapeutic. So, if you don’t keep a journal already, now would be a good time to start. You don’t have to write pages and pages; just a few lines a day. Or one line, if that’s all you’ve got in you. Just get your thoughts (and more often, your frustrations) down on paper, and see where it leads. There are many ways to journal, but if you find that journaling is not for you, give yourself permission to stop. You can always try again later. Or don’t. Make (or break) the rules as you see fit. This is something you’re doing for you.

 

Limit social media. It’s tempting to mindlessly scroll through social media—or binge-watch Netflix, or spend hours searching YouTube for cute-kitty videos—when you’re stressed and in need of distraction. (When my dad was sick, I played Wordscapes until my vision was blurry.) But the hours you engage in unproductive phone activities are hours you can’t get back. Plus, screen time wreaks havoc on your concentration. Removing apps from your phone is the obvious solution, but it’s unlikely you will do this (I still have Wordscapes on mine). Instead, think of screen time as a reward for writing time. Five hundred words = fifteen minutes of Wordscapes; one thousand words = an episode of 90 Day Fiancé (or pick your poison). The point is, you’re allowed to zone out when the time is right—but don’t make a habit of it. Your time is too valuable to waste. (For advice on how to walk away from social media completely, check out this post from Salon.)

You do YOU. Writers often compare themselves to others. That’s what we do. But as Teddy Roosevelt famously said, “Comparison is the thief of joy.” He was right. Knowing that your friend’s debut MG novel sold eight billion copies and has been optioned for a movie starring Kylie Jenner (or Kendall Jenner, if you prefer) while yours is languishing in a bargain bin at Costco is a fact of life—but don’t dwell on it. You have enough on your plate to worry about! By all means celebrate your friends’ achievements, but don’t let their success(es) overshadow your own. Sometimes getting out bed in the morning is enough.

Practice self-care. This should be a given, but if you’re busy looking out for others’ needs, you tend to ignore your own—or put them last. This is understandable (I’m guilty of this, too), but try to put yourself first once in a while. Squeeze in a run, or have coffee with a friend. Get a massage, if that’s your thing, or sneak out to a museum or art gallery. Catch up on your sleep; eat Frito’s Corn Chips. Dance. Whatever it takes to bring you to your happy place, do it!

And finally…

Expect setbacks. It’s important to remember that most things in life are out of your control, like when a parent develops dementia–and dies. When a child is sick or disabled and needs constant care. Unemployment; bankruptcy; a house fire; divorce… You can only do so much to keep afloat emotionally. Sometimes, it will feel like an impossible struggle. You’ll miss deadlines. Bills will go unpaid; birthday cards unsent. For every step forward, you can expect two—or fifty—steps back.

Grieving isn’t linear, and I miss my dad every day. Still, he would have wanted me to keep writing, and that’s what I’m trying to do. I hope you will, too.

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