Posts Tagged “writing for children”

Mentors on Your Bookshelf

“There are only two ways, really, to become a writer. One is to write. The other is to read.” — Anna Quindlen, How Reading Changed My Life

“During our fourteen sessions together you will begin writing a novel for young readers. You may be surprised by how committed you become to this work and how much you accomplish. But it will happen because you’ll have help from some of the best mentors writing today – the authors of the books we’ll be reading.”

For years, I began my children’s fiction writing MFA classes with some version of this statement. Creating a reading list each semester was my favorite thing to do. I chose books that would give my students a sense of the scope and possibility in writing for children. I looked for the titles that would transport them back to their own childhoods by recapturing the child’s world with its uniquely heightened senses and near-primal beliefs. I chose books by authors who were wizards—conjuring wonder, magic, make-believe, longing, justice, adventure, and hope in their pages.  I was a good teacher because the masters I’d learned from had become my teaching assistants.

I’m sharing five of my all-time favorite titles here, along with with notes on why and how I use them. I still read these books when I’m writing and trying to capture a mood, a character trait, a voice, or whatever is feeling elusive in my work. It’s not about copying, but about evoking something within.

Because of Winn Dixie by Kate DiCamillo

 Why I chose it:

  • One of the many things I love about this story is how Kate DiCamillo reveals the invisible child–the part of a character that is open to readers but not to other characters in the story. How does the author capture the invisible self? Her protagonist, Opal, talks to the dog she adopts in the first chapter and names Winn Dixie. He is her first and only friend in the town she’s just landed in. This is how readers learn what’s on her mind and even the backstory that has brought her to this point in her life.
  • Another powerful way Opal reveals her invisible self is through praying. While talking to God, she discloses a secret she believes is true: No one wants to be her friend because her father is the preacher and she’d tell on them for everything they did wrong, and the preacher would tell God and their parents. What a heartfelt way to reveal the conflict that drives the story!

Read this book to see how the author created her lovable, quirky, and vulnerable character, and for Opal’s vibrant voice!

Toys Go Out by Emily Jenkins

 Why I chose it:

  • The characters! The three protagonists,  a red ball, a stuffed starfish, and a toy buffalo, provide a wise and witty introduction to setting the rules and boundaries of fantasy. Favorite examples: The ball can read. The toys are able to use subliminal messaging to influence their mistress (a little girl). The stuffed starfish cannot swim.
  • In creating the rules for what these toys can and cannot do, the author gets young readers thinking about the meaning of life. The three toys confront identity, status, and competition. They ask Who Am I? and What Am I Good At? The amazing thing about this book is that it’s for readers in grades 1-4!

Read this book if you are new to writing fantasy or if you just want to up your game.

Waiting for Normal by Leslie Connor

 Why I chose it:

  • Addie, the immensely engaging protagonist of Connor’s novel, embodies one of the most valuable qualities we can give our readers— No matter how strong or brave or numb a character is, vulnerability lets us know that she or he can be hurt, can feel pain, can be affected and therefore be changed. But in order to enable a character to survive and grow, vulnerability must go hand-in-hand with resilience. Addie’s resilience includes staying alone in her trailer home for extended periods while keeping up her ‘normal’ routine of attending school, preparing meals, and caring for her hamster.

Read this book for an example of how to inspire readers to ask, ‘Could I be as strong as Addie?’

 Walk Two Moons by Sharon Creech

 Why I chose it:

  •  The first chapter of this compelling Newbery winner contains a roadmap of the novel’s structure. In just 3 pages, there is a move from Bybanks, KY to Euclid, OH, a secret hidden under the floorboards, the foreshadowing of a momentous 6-day trip, and the first appearance of the girl whose story will help protagonist Sal understand her own.
  • Story within story; plot and subplot. Creech has woven both of these techniques into her story as a way of creating mystery, surprise, and the complexity of human relationships.The climax of this healing story sends Sal on a fateful journey in which she takes risks that will enable her to learn and grow.

 Read this book for everything about the importance of structure in storytelling!

 One Crazy Summer by Rita Williams-Garcia

 Why I chose it:

  •  This book is a brilliant example of how to tell the story of a character’s personal struggle to find truth within the larger canvas of history—in this case, the early days of the Black Panthers, their struggles and triumphs in the late 1960’s.
  • Through 11-year-old Delphine’s eyes, author Williams-Garcia captures the excitement and importance of the times.  Her storytelling includes poetry, music, fashion, politics, and commitment to showing a lesser known side of the truth . Her vivid details are a lesson in bringing an important period in the civil rights movement to life.

Read this book if you have ever thought about using personal experience in a novel of historical fiction.

Now it’s your turn! Which books on your shelves serve as writing mentors? Tell us the titles and what to look out for!  

 

Keys. Journal. Imaginations.

I recently read Wishtree by Katherine Applegate. I loved this story of children creating change in their community through innocent acceptance.

At the heart of story lies a mysterious key. What does it belong to? And, once discovered, what secrets would be revealed from its home?

I was looking for my extra set of car keys the other day, and I came upon these.

23 keys.

They’ve all traveled with us as we moved into our new home six months ago, and yet, not one of them serves a purpose here. Except one, which is to my garage door. I guess I’d better figure out which one that is.

But, where do the rest belong? Their secrets remain with their notched blades, their wards a mystery.

Samar and Stephen, the two young protagonists of Wishtree, discover that their key, bestowed upon them by Bongo, an animated crow, opens a journal which holds a wish from the distant past. Their sleuthing changes the fate of Red, the long-standing neighborhood oak.

The keys now sit on my desk, as I’ve resolved to figure out which portals they fit into, or likely not, before repurposing them. They have found a temporary home next to a journal that is significant to my personal storyline.

It is a journal given to me by my friend Michelle Houts, editor of the Biographies for Young Readers series I’ve written for. My first contribution shares the life journey of Mildred “Millie” Benson, the original ghostwriter of Nancy Drew. The cover and contents of my gift are from The Secret of Red Gate Farm, a Nancy Drew Mystery Story written by Millie. There are lined journal pages in between the text. How cool is that?

I’ve got over a dozen journals, filled with reflections from our family adventures to all 50 states, notes from writing workshops, and musings.

Yet, this one was special, and its purpose needed to be just that.

I’ve determined it is to be my story idea journal. I get inspirations for stories, both imagined and real, daily. My challenge is finding that one, perfect idea, sticking to it, and finishing it.

I’m certain that my fellow Mixed-Up blog contributors are the same. Life presents us with story all the time. And, for those of you teachers and librarians whose days are filled with characters and plots, I encourage you to start writing them down too.

Find that one key that fits somewhere, and explore it. Use it to unlock your imagination and share the journey with children. They need our stories of acceptance, kindness and empathy.

This is my wish and goal for 2018, and it will be discovered in my journal. All I need to do is look, unravel that one unique, shiny, mysterious idea, and then help it find its place in the world.

As for those other keys? This may be their perfect ending.

Sparking the Imagination with Written Imagery

As a classroom teacher of upper MG readers, I’ve been wondering lately on the constant technological pummeling we get from images—gaming, TV, movies, computers, tablets, phones. Screened devices have a powerful attention-grabbing effect on kids, and with so many stimulating colors, photos, Snapchat animations, and videos to look at, the modern-day imagination is contending with a very different ball of yarn than in decades past. It’s great that we can Google-Machine “Roman Empire ruins” and see hundreds of pictures, and it’s fun to test our eye-hand coordination by slashing air-borne fruit, chopping ropes, or helping a chicken across a road. But for many readers, after all that color and movement and music, the imagination may balk a bit when given black words on a white page.

For that reason, it might be pretty difficult for a middle grade teacher, parent, librarian, or writer to hook readers on books with descriptive passages, figurative language, or a generally more literary bent. But instead of avoiding imagery, it may be more important than ever to give readers an opportunity to envision and imagine through the words on the page. We should strive to provide work-out routines and fitness centers for the imagination in our stories through language and description. Inclusion of imagery in MG stories will complement the reader’s experience and ultimately improve and enhance the reader’s imagination. And imagination is important in any setting, as it drives flexible thinking and creative problem solving.

So, in order to spark readers’ imaginations, how do you recognize good imagery in MG works, and how do you write your own? Here are some qualities typically associated with imagery:

  • Imagery is language that employs a mental use of the five senses.
  • It can use certain figurative language devices like similes and metaphors, personification, and hyperbole, but it can exist without any other lit devices being present, too.
  • Good imagery isn’t fluffy or fancy or filled with words you’d find on the SAT. Sometimes, in fact, incredibly simple syntax and short phrases make up excellent imagery.
  • Imagery lets you see, touch, taste, hear, and smell the surroundings  in the character’s world, and it draws the reader in with those experiences.
  • Most importantly, good imagery leads the imagination off-leash—it guides, but never forces. The imagination has to be allowed to run free, if it’s to grow strong.

Here are some scenes in three works of MG fiction with imagery to consider:

Madeleine L’Engle’s A Wrinkle in Time. The description of Camazotz is brilliantly creepy in its simplicity. L’Engle’s choice of short, clipped words and phrases reflect the vision concocted in the reader’s imagination of this austere town where anomalies are forbidden:

Below them the town was laid out in harsh angular patterns. The houses in the outskirts were all exactly alike, small square boxes painted gray. Each had a small, rectangular plot of land in front, with a straight line of dull-looking flowers edging the path to the door.

Things get more eerie with the rhythmical description of the kids outside all those houses, girls jumping rope and boys bouncing balls:

Down came the ropes. Down came the balls. Over and over again. Up. Down. All in rhythm. All identical. Like the houses. Like the paths. Like the flowers.

The imagery prompts our imaginations to not only see Camazotz but to hear and feel its driving beat, too.

Sarah Jean Horwitz’s Carmer and Grit, Book One: The Wingsnatchers. Big, immediate conflicts or surprised exclamations from characters can work beautifully as openers in MG fiction and nonfiction. But atmospheric imagery can be used just as masterfully to hook the reader into the story. In this book, the two-and-a-half-page opener has no dialogue and no loud clatter of forces. But the tone of mystery, the discordant sounds, and the symbolic light/darkness imagery all work together to pull the reader in:

At the South Gate, just outside the winding iron bars, the Autocat waits. Its jeweled eyes gleam in the darkness. It watches as each golden lantern on the pathway blinks out, one by one, and it growls–a rough, scraping sound like metal on metal, a sound never heard in the garden before. The creature slinks off into Skemantis’s black night, its mission accomplished.

Karen Hesse’s Letters from Rivka. Good imagery keeps firmly in the voice of the 1st person character, in this case, a young Russian refugee fleeing to America in 1919 and seeing Poland for the first time:

The same crooked cottages, the same patchy roads, the same bony fences leaning in to the dust. Looking out from the train, we see people dressed like us, in browns and blacks; people wrapped in layers of clothes.

Thanks for reading! Please feel free to share thoughts you have on imagery in MG writing, or name some writers you enjoy who do a great job at sparking readers’ imaginations.