Interview with "Dancing With The Pen II" Contributor Katie Wagman

Today we are kicking off our special Dancing With The Pen II blog tour with an interview with young writer Katie Wagman, whose story "Bobby" is featured in the book. Order a personalized copy of Dancing With The Pen II: a collection of today's youth writing here or on Amazon here.

What would you like readers to know about you as an introduction? 

My name is Katie Wagman and I am twelve years old. I'm in seventh grade and I live in Camarillo, California. Besides writing, I like to read, do gymnastics, and hang out with friends. I'm on a gymnastics team and have been for about three years now.

Describe your piece that was published in Dancing With The Pen II.

My piece is called "Bobby." It tells about a troublemaker student who overhears one of her teachers talking suspiciously. Believing he was up to no good, she convinces her friend to break into his house. What she finds surprises her. Her teacher has been teaching under a fake name. He's looking for a student. His son. But his intentions, surprisingly, were not to do harm. When her principal catches her, things take a turn. But the question is, will it be for better or worse?

I got my idea for this piece after seeing a commercial about families being split up. Parents and children never to see each other again. I didn't know what to think of it. So I got out a pencil and wrote.

Have you been writing for a long time? What do you like about writing? 

I've been writing for about five years, though I've only recently begun sharing my writing with others. I love many things about writing. One thing is that I'm in charge. I can create a world of my own. I'm in control. Because life is like a roller coaster. And sometimes it feels like someone else is operating. But when I'm writing, it's like I'm the one behind the controls.

What does it mean to you to have your piece included in this book?  

When I found out my story was going to be published in this book, I had just gotten into the car after school. When my dad told me, I was a bit shocked. Especially because I had forgotten I'd sent Dallas the story in the first place. That night, my dad cooked. I know it doesn't sound like much but he is amazing with food. In my opinion, better than most restaurants.

Do you have any advice for other writers, or for other young people going after their dreams?

My advice to other writers or people following their dreams is: don't be afraid. Don't let anyone tell you you can't do it (though it would be wise to listen to advice.) Try your best. You're going to make mistakes, it's how you learn from them that matters. Never give up. Do what you love.

Can you share a few of your favorite books or authors? 

Some of my favorite books are:
- The Percy Jackson/Heroes of Olympus series by Rick Riordan
- The Help by Kathryn Stockett
- The Harry Potter series by J.K Rowling
- Wonder by R.J Palacio
- The Hunger Games series by Susan Collins
- The Matched series by Ally Condie
- I also read MANY stories on an app called Wattpad.

What inspires you? 

People. People inspire me. You don't have to be a super hero to do great things. War veterans, cancer survivors, Special Ed students. All these people. They're the extraordinary ones.

What are you working on now? What’s next for you? 

Currently, I am working on a novella and (hopefully) a full-blown novel. I also write other short stories and poems on the side. I am hoping to publish the novel if possible.

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Katie Wagman is an eleven-year-old seventh-grader. She enjoys writing and gymnastics. School fascinates her; she loves learning new and interesting things. Additionally, she enjoys hanging out with friends and family. She particularly likes the stars. They take her to a world beyond our own and get her thinking!

Links: 

Order Dancing With The Pen I & Dancing With The Pen II directly (personalized copies available!) or via Amazon.

If you have a few minutes and could write a review on Amazon, that would be fantastic!

You can also follow Dancing With The Pen on Facebook. We're featured on Goodreads, too!

Dancing With The Pen II: a collection of today's best youth writing

Video games. Television. Computers. The Internet. With so many electronic distractions, how can a parent get their child or teenager to pick up a book and read this summer?

Write On! Books has the answer: a series of book written by young writers geared specifically for young audiences. The second volume of Dancing With The Pen: a collection of today’s best youth writing has just been released! The book features stories, poems, and essays by more than fifty young writers in elementary school, middle school and high school, from all across the United States. Their work explores everything from travel to friendship, love to loss, fear to hope—themes that both celebrate diversity and transcend hometowns, backgrounds and cultures.

I founded Write On! Books in 2011 with the simple question: Who knows what kids want to read better than kids themselves? Not only do I want to empower the next generation of writers, I also hope to get young people excited about reading by publishing a variety of dynamic, creative work written by their peers.

I am passionate about nurturing confidence in today’s youth through writing and reading; to be sure, creativity has made a profound impact on my life. I published my first book, a collection of short stories and poems titled There’s a Huge Pimple On My Nose, when I was in fifth grade, and the experience was a turbo-boost to my self-esteem. For the first time, I saw myself as a writer. I felt like I could pursue any dream, as long as I worked hard and believed in myself.

I hope that the young writers published in Dancing With The Pen find renewed joy, deep pride, and lasting confidence. I have no doubt they will go on to do many wonderful things, and feel honored to be part of making a dream come true for them. As contributor Sofia Felino wrote me in an email, "This really means so much and it's amazing -- I've been dreaming of being published since birth!"

This past Saturday, we had a special book launch pizza party for young writers in the Bay Area. It was a magical evening celebrating seven young writers, who read their work out loud to the audience. Among the young writers in attendance were Rosalie Chiang, a Fremont homeschooler, who penned two fictional stories about animals teaching humans lessons in bravery and friendship. Vivek Bellam, from Danville, wrote about a robot battle and Jennifer Huang, from San Ramon, wrote about a young artist trying to “make it big” in New York City. Arham Habib, a high school student from Danville (pictured below) read his essay: a letter to legendary author Ray Bradbury about Fahrenheit 451.

A Southern California book launch party will take place at Mrs. Figs' Bookworm in Camarillo on Thursday, July 21 at 5pm. Young writers will read their pieces and autograph books. It will be an exciting event for the entire community. We would love to see you there!

The response to the Dancing With The Pen series has been overwhelmingly positive. In its debut week of release, the first volume of Dancing With The Pen rose to a #2 ranking on Amazon.com in the "literature anthologies" category. One Amazon reviewer praised, “This stunning anthology is a testament to the fact that magic can flow through the pens of writers of any age.” Another gave the book five stars and wrote, “From short stories to poetry, fantasy to realistic fiction, there's something in here for everyone of all ages to enjoy.”

Indeed, while the book series was originally aimed at young people, adult readers are raving as well. Randy Robertson, parent of three, remarked, "It is a treat for us adult readers to gain an insight into what this upcoming generation is thinking and feeling." And LA Parent reviewer Debbie Glade wrote, "Some of the stories and poems are so wisely penned, I had to double check the ages of the writers in their short bios."

Parents and teachers who are concerned about youth illiteracy can feel doubly good about purchasing Dancing With The Pen. For every copy sold, a new book will be donated to Write On’s Holiday Book Drive to benefit disadvantaged and at-risk youth. Since 2001, we have donated more than 14,000 new books to underprivileged kids across the U.S.

Publishing the Dancing With The Pen series has reaffirmed for me the power of books and reading. I am blown away by the insightful, daring, thought-provoking work being produced by young writers today! I know you will be, too.

Personalized copies of Dancing With The Pen are available at the Write On! website: www.writeonbooks.org.

Reading as a Creative Act

In the introduction to the wonderfully insightful book Genership 1.0, David Castro writes, "The journey of self-discovery involves the possibility of transcendence. The effort to see ourselves changes us. Thomas Mann reminded us that '[n]o one remains quite what he was when he recognizes himself.' We are the sculptor; we are the stone. The strangely transformational search for true human nature belongs not only to myth-makers, poets and philosophers. We experience the quest for our identity as social beings. Through families, organizations, communities and nations, humanity writ large shares the pilgrimage toward the self. Religion, philosophy, art, science and history undertake the same fundamental inquiry: Who are we?"

I love this image of all of humanity in the quest together, asking the same foundational questions, reflecting ourselves in each other. For me, this calls to mind the act of reading: a form of connection, inspiration, newness, delight. I believe that reading itself is an act of creation. The reader brings the writers' words to life uniquely and individually. No two readers experience a book in exactly the same way. Readers create the experience of the book based on their frame of reference, mood, memories, and associations. Words on a page are not static -- they are a conversation between writer and reader.

Malcolm Bradbury observed, "A conventional good read is usually a bad read, a relaxing bath in what we know already. A truly good read is surely an act of innovative creation in which we, the readers, become conspirators." I would add that a truly great read takes what might be viewed as "conventional" and makes it feel innovative. Joseph Campbell famously suggested that only seven basic story plots exist, which we retell again and again; I believe truly great authors are able to retell "what we already know" in ways that are refreshing and newly enlightening.

I recently reread Marilynne Robinson’s luminous novel Gilead, in which she does precisely this. Robinson takes a plot we have all read before—an aged man on his deathbed recounting the experiences of his life—and turns it into a novel that is both profound and original. Further, I was struck by the seamlessness of the narrative voice. Robinson structures the novel as a letter written by Congregationalist minister John Ames to his young son, and after only a few pages I forgot I was reading a novel and began to believe that there really existed an old minister named John Ames, whose own words I was reading. Robinson expertly weaves together memories, insights, and day-to-day observations, capturing not only how John Ames thinks and speaks, but also how he expresses himself in a letter. Ames even addresses this uniqueness of voice in the early pages of the novel: "I don't write the way I speak. … I don't write the way I do for the pulpit either, insofar as I can help it. … I do try to write the way I think. But of course that all changes as soon as I put it into words" (28-29).

Above all, what impresses me about Gilead is how effortless Robinson makes the written word seem, the same way Fred Astaire made dancing appear simple, Monet made painting seem easy, and Roger Federer turns tennis into ballet. The writing and storytelling dovetail so flawlessly into one man’s stirring and lucid recollections of his life that it is easy to forget that John Ames is not a real man, but the creation of Marilynne Robinson. Furthermore, Ames’ words flow so elegantly that it is difficult to imagine that Robinson toiled over them for years. However, upon deeper consideration, this proves Nathaniel Hawthorne’s oft-quoted words: “Easy reading is damn hard writing.”

Perhaps the book I read this past year that has most influenced me as a writer is one I reread nearly every year: The Catcher in the Rye. Each time I read this novel, it strikes me as a slightly different book. The words on the page are the same, but I have changed and grown; the conversation feels new. I first read J.D. Salinger’s classic novel my junior year in high school. Rarely has another book touched me in such a raw, visceral way. I wanted to climb into the pages of the book and into Holden Caulfield’s life. I realized that it is possible for a character to draw in the reader and carry the entire story on his back.

People hold an endless source of intrigue and inspiration to me. One of my favorite activities is people-watching. I love to imagine lives for the people who pass by, wondering where they came from and where they are going; what they are thinking and who they love; what they worry about and what their futures hold. However, as a storyteller, I used to think that in order to produce something that will stick with a reader, I had to dream up a wholly new and original idea. I fretted over coming up with a labyrinthine plot unique to anything I had ever come across. The Catcher in the Rye opened my mind to a new definition of what "great writing" can be. I came to understand that what makes an idea unique is that it is filtered through my own life experiences and perspective. Rather than building compelling stories through intricate, convoluted plotlines, as a writer I am interested in exploring the intricacies, subtleties, and contradictions of the human psyche.

E. M. Forster wrote, "I suggest that the only books that influence us are those for which we are ready, and which have gone a little further down our particular path than we have gone ourselves." I am grateful to the numerous books and authors who have influenced me, and to those who will influence me in the future, for leading me down my particular path as an ever-growing, ever-changing creative writer -- and reader.

None of Us Will Have Enough Time

“I need a whole other life not to let this one go to waste.” 

― Lera Auerbach, Excess of Being

                                                                  _____________

In a recent interview with the poetry magazine jubliat, poet Lynn Xu was asked, "Why do poets want to publish? What part of the process or practice is publishing?" I love her response:

I don't know. I can't speak for everyone, but I think a lot of us publish because we want to be part of the history of reading, which is often a deeply private thing. 

[...] The book is at once made (the publishing model being one example, which includes the writer) and not made (it seems, so much of its life comes from the spontaneity of discovery, which is streamlined with one's life, where you happen to be, what you are doing, thinking, feeling, etc.)... As a child, it never occurred to me that books were made. They simply existed. And they belonged to everyone, no one. Their peculiar magic was that they seemed to exist at all times. 

To publish, maybe, is to borrow from this spontaneity of being. 

_____________

For the past few months, I've been thinking a lot about the place of publishing in our creative lives -- specifically, in my creative life. I've slowly come to realize that, without meaning to, for a long time -- since graduate school, it seems -- I've been living with this deeply held pressure to justify my creative work somehow, to make it fit into society's structure of money, business, productivity.

But art, by definition, does not fit into neat little boxes.

Maybe that is why it has been such a struggle for me at times to sit down at the computer and put in the writing time: I was trying too hard to cram my creative work into neat little boxes that could be packaged, commodified, sold. I've noticed that, for the past few years, I've muddled through long stretches of time when it feels like I am fighting my writing routine, thrashing against it, moaning to myself about how hard it is, and putting all sorts of pressure on myself. Sort of like a child who hates playing piano but his parents make him practice every day, so he practices for the exact amount of time he's supposed to -- not a minute more. In some slowly building way, writing has become something I have to do, and I lost sight of why I even want to do it in the first place.

Lynn Xu might say I lost my spontaneity of being. I lost track of that peculiar magic that links me to books, to communities, to other writers across time and space.

I found it again in the unlikeliest of places: Facebook.

_____________

I know, I know: Facebook is to a writer's productivity like sugar-and-caffeine-soaked soda is to a toddler's naptime. Not the most conducive. However, I was scrolling through my Facebook newsfeed the other day when I spotted a post by a writer acquaintance of mine. I met her at a conference years ago and, though we have not seen each other face-to-face since then, I have read and admired her work ever since. I especially remember how she treated me with such respect, even though I was the youngest faculty member by decades at this particular conference. She treated me like a peer, and I loved her for that. 

Her Facebook post was short and easy to scroll past, in the blur of cat snapshots and food snapshots and baby snapshots and election-related news articles. But something about it made me pause. What is she up to these days? I wondered, thinking perhaps this would be about a new piece being published somewhere, or one of her books winning another award. 

But no. In this post, just a few sentences long, she was saying goodbye. 

She explained that she had cancer and the tumors were steadily growing, outpacing her chemotherapy treatments, and that she was heading into hospice care soon. She stated, without a trace of self-pity, that she had enjoyed a rich and wonderful life and was grateful for all of the people and all of the love. She even apologized, writing that she knew everyone was hoping for better news.

I sat there, staring at my computer, utterly stunned and speechless and devastated.

This writer has published many beautiful and touching and important works during her time here. And yet, I am sure that she still has many more stories left inside her. Stories she won't have time to tell before her time runs out.

And in that moment, it struck me with force, like a punch in my gut: none of us will have enough time before our time runs out. 

photo credit: Dineshraj Goomany

I could live for a thousand years, and I know I would still die with stories left inside me, ideas germinating in my head, tales left to tell. 

For now, all I have is this day. This moment, here at my computer, translating the scattered thoughts in my head into words on this screen. This moment is all that I have guaranteed to me.

How valuable! How important! 

Why waste a single writing day? Why grumble and groan about how hard writing is? It doesn't matter if it's hard -- it is still a singular and precious gift. And I do not want to squander an hour that I could be writing with excuses and interruptions and chores. No longer. Not anymore.

It is a fact that I am going to die with stories left inside me. So until that comes to pass, it is my task, my journey, my calling, to let as many of the important stories out of me as possible. To share them with the world. To access the magical spontaneity of being that I am lucky to be a part of.

_____________

Lately, I have been feeling so much freer in my writing. I am trying to distance myself from publishing and worrying about readers or the future. Instead, I am sinking all of my energy into the process. For me, I am learning, the work itself is what is sustaining. The work itself is what matters. 

Rather than "clocking in" at my writing desk each day, now I sit down at my computer because I want to hang out with my characters for a bit. I want to listen to what they have to tell me, to discover what they have to share with me -- and to unpack the beatings of my own heart, too. 

I write for myself, and also for all the other writers who are no longer able to write. 

I write because I am part of a creative tradition, and that is a truly glorious gift. 

I write because these words, words that I wring out of my soul and onto the page one by one, slowly and steadily and joyfully and angrily and fiercely and rapidly and tiredly and passionately... these words are my legacy. 

Writing Lessons from a Maxed-Out Yoga Class

As I mentioned in a previous post, I recently moved to a new apartment. Habits researcher and author Gretchen Rubin writes, in her book Better than Before, that an excellent time to adopt new habits is when undergoing a shift or change in your life: a break-up, a new relationship, a new job, a home renovation, etc. Moving to a new place, it turns out, is actually the #1 time to successfully adopt new habits! So I leaped upon the opportunity to try cementing some new healthy habits that I had been wanting to fully integrate into my life.

Image source

One of these habits is going to bed earlier, so I can wake up earlier feeling refreshed and ready to tackle the day. Another is to focus on simplicity; I did a huge purge of clutter and papers before I moved, and I want to keep these nonessentials from slowly re-accumulating in my life, as they so often do. Also, I now begin every morning with two big glasses of water and a green smoothie. I try to write at least a couple hundred words on my creative work-in-progress each morning before I even check my email or work on projects for other people. And I am trying to set in stone a regular routine of going to the gym.

I belonged to a gym close by where I used to live, and I would go there fairly regularly, but it was never something I especially looked forward to. I could never figure out why. It was a nice gym, with lots of classes available and fancy amenities. I realize now that I did not fully feel comfortable there; the atmosphere was a bit competitive and intense, and I prefer my gym time to be low-key and low-stress. This new gym I joined by my new apartment is much less fancy, but much more my vibe: like me, the people who go there seem friendly, a little rag-tag, and much more interested in exercising for good health than for looks.

One of my favorite classes is a Monday morning gentle yoga class. The instructor is funny and upbeat, and the class always flies by and is the perfect way to ease into my week.

Lots of other people must think so, too, because the class is pretty much always filled to capacity. Classes work on a first-come, first-serve basis; when you arrive at the gym, you can ask for a pass to get into the class, and if they have any more available the person working the front desk will hand a pass to you. If not, you're out of luck!

Photo cred: tricsr4kidz, Flickr Creative Commons

One week, I was a little late getting out of bed and, even thought I arrived to the gym ten minutes before class was scheduled to begin, they were all out of passes. Rats! I thought, but it was not a big deal. I stashed my yoga mat in the locker room and worked out on the elliptical machine instead.

When I was leaving, about twenty minutes before the class was scheduled to end, another woman was standing by the front desk holding a yoga mat of her own. She spotted my yoga mat and summoned me over. "Were you kicked out of the class, too?" she asked.

"Well, I wasn't kicked out... there just wasn't enough room when I arrived."

This woman shook her head angrily. "It's not fair! They should have two classes! I got here at the time the class was supposed to start, and I wasn't able to get into the class! They kicked me out! It's not fair!" She was like a toddler having a tantrum, blaming everyone else but herself for her predicament.

The manager behind the front desk met my eyes with a helpless expression. I realized this other yogi had probably been angrily complaining to her for the past half hour. And now she was trying to get me to gang up on the manager about the completely fair gym policy.

"It was my fault," I said, shrugging. "I should have gotten here earlier. But I still had a great workout anyway!" And then I smiled at the manager and headed out the door. I could still hear the other woman sputtering.

This woman, with her countless loud excuses, reminded me of someone familiar: my writing self, at times. Or more accurately: my non-writing self. For as much as I want to spend my days writing up a storm, on a minute-by-minute level it often feels like writing is the last thing I want to be doing. Because writing is so often difficult! It requires so much thinking and feeling, so much honesty and bravery, and so much willingness to fail, to deal with uncertainty, to feel like you have utterly no idea if what you are creating is going to ever come together at all. Yes, it is scary and exhausting to, as Red Smith famously said, sit down at a typewriter (or computer or notebook), open your veins, and bleed.

Usually, I find it is especially difficult to begin. To climb back into whatever I am working on. To bridge the gap between the shining potential of the idea in my head and the stark lines of words marching imperfectly across the page. And the act of beginning is often when my excuse-laden self pops up and brightly says:

Oh, you can't possibly write today! Look how beautiful and sunny it is outside! You don't want to waste a day like this. Go make a picnic! Go for a hike! Now, now, now!

Oh, look how rainy and dreary it is outside. Why don't you curl up with that new novel you've been wanting to read? Reading a couple chapters will be good for inspiration. Go on, just for a bit. ... Oh, why not read for a bit longer? Reading is important for writing, after all.

Oh no, you woke up late! You're completely behind schedule! No time to write today!

Oh, you woke up early! Aren't you feeling a little groggy still? Why not get a jump on some other projects, and you can come back to your creative writing once your cup of Earl Grey has kicked in?  

Shouldn't you clean the bathroom? Wash the dishes? Put in a load of laundry? Vacuum the carpet? Your desk is looking quite messy -- probably best to organize it first, before you start writing.

Don't you have a little headache? Your back is feeling kind of sore? Maybe you're getting sick. You should go back to bed. You should rest. Is that a pain in your gut? Maybe you should eat something. Drink something. Go put on the tea kettle. Go make a sandwich. 

Oh, and you should definitely check your email and your cell phone! Can't miss any messages! It could be something important!

Does this sound familiar? I've grown to recognize the sabotaging excuse-monster in my head for what she is: afraid. She doesn't want to sit in the discomfort. She doesn't want to risk failure. And so she tries to veer me off course. And, on those days (thankfully, becoming rarer and rarer) when I give in and I don't get the writing done, and I feel guilty and angry for not writing, she always pops up on those days, too. She is filled with those same excuses for why I did not put time into my most meaningful work. She always wants to blame everything else in the world but my own decisions. She is like the other woman who did not get a pass for yoga class.

She has taught me: only by taking responsibility for my own actions, can I change them. Only by recognizing when I am making excuses can I put the brakes on the excuse-train. And only by truthfully assessing my old habits can I build new, better habits.

In a recent podcast with Arch Street Press, Dr. Douglass Jackson, founder of Project C.U.R.E., says, "Figure out what gets you so excited that it gets you up out of bed, puts your feet on the floor, and you just can't wait to get back to it."

Writing has always been that something to me. Now, my habits are reflecting this, too.

Ever since that week when I was too late to get a pass, I arrive to yoga class half an hour early. That early, I always am able to get a pass. I walk into the yoga room and lay out my mat on the smooth wooden floor. I have my pick of places in the room. And then I go ride the exercise bike or run on the elliptical machine until it is time for class to begin. Instead of feeling guilty and upset, I feel empowered.

I think that is one of the best ways to feel in our creative lives and our work lives and our personal lives and our whole lives: empowered.

And the best part of all? It is in our power, every single day, to create that feeling for ourselves.

Reading My Mind Through The Words of Others

{Photo credit: D Sharon Pruitt}

Dylan Thomas said, “The blank page is where I read my mind.” Additionally, as writers—and, indeed, as people—we can learn and grow a great deal by reading the minds of others. In the forthcoming months on this blog, I will be posting about a few books that have taught me a great deal.

From The Collected Stories of Lydia Davis, I have learned that a story can be as short as a paragraph, yet still feel complete and connect with the reader in a deep, visceral way. Davis’s piece “The Sock” is one of the most emotionally stunning stories I have read, even though it is only two pages long. Part of what makes it so affecting is that the crux of the piece hinges on a description of a sock—something so ordinary and even a bit distasteful. Who wants to read a vivid description of a smelly, sweaty sock? Yet this is precisely what gives the sock its power as an object: it is so utterly personal, like underwear but without the sexual connotation. The main character is a divorced woman and the sock is used to characterize her ex-husband. Even more poignantly, the sock provides a glimpse into their relationship, as the woman remembers the countless times she had picked up her husband’s socks in all their years together. The juxtaposition is striking; she intimately knows how he takes off his socks while reading in bed (she describes his feet resting together “like two halves of fruit”) and yet now they are living separate lives, and he is married to a different woman.

In this story and others, I like that Davis doesn’t spell everything out for the reader; questions about her characters linger afterward. Often after finishing one of her stories, I immediately want to go back and read the story again. Even months after reading "The Sock," the main character has stayed with me. In my experience, the best stories are like that; they stick with you long after the book has been closed and put back on the shelf. 

Other stories that have stayed with me are those in the beautiful book a picture is worth…(Arch Street Press). The words of these sixteen young adults are incredibly poignant, honest, and filled with raw emotion. I am most struck by their mature insights and deep reflections on their lives, both the joyful and painful memories.

Betania captures the mingling of excitement and frustration that comes with artistic expression: “Just a couple of days ago, a professor from New York came and she taught photography and how to tell stories through pictures. … [She] got the school to provide us with cameras and she took my classmates and me out to our community to capture pictures. I loved the program and you really get to see that anything can be picture-perfect and everything is beautiful in its own little way. It made me see my community differently and I appreciate her for that. I didn’t like my pictures; at the moment that I captured the photos I thought they were amazing but then when I saw everyone else’s, I lost all hope in my pictures” (pg. 95). I think every artist has felt that sinking tug towards “the comparison trap”—you feel delighted with your work initially, but then at some point your internal critic takes over and suddenly it seems that everyone in the world is more artistically gifted than you are. I wish I could tell Betania: your photographs are perfect because they were created by the one-and-only you! 

Ashley’s story of resilience and strength is incredibly moving. She describes cutting the word “crazy” into her arm after being bullied in school and being made to feel like an outcast. She describes moving from town to town, school to school, and battling depression: “I was simply a shell in my own life: looking pleasant on the outside but empty inside. All I wanted was for someone to come up to me and tell me that they knew exactly what I was going through and how I felt. I wanted them to tell me that they had a solution, but that didn’t happen. Why didn’t anybody just ask me how I was or how I felt?” (pg. 24). A common theme that runs through many stories in the book is a yearning for care and compassion. In this way, the book expands into not simply narratives about what it is like to be a young person in the world today, but rather what is means to be human. For this is a crucial aspect of our common humanity: wanting to be loved and seen and heard and understood.

{image credit}

Eventually, Ashley manages to reach out for help and begins to make more connections at school. She writes she has “come to realize that things always get better. Everyone has to go through hard times, some harder than others, but in time cloudy skies will clear away.”

 Hope for the writer, and hope for the reader, too.

Unpacking Boxes + Developing Characters

Last month, I moved into a new apartment. Moving made me appreciate many things anew, such as how each room its own unique space with its own special function and purpose -- and yet, the individual rooms meld wonderfully into a whole space. A home. To me, this parallels the way a successful story or novel melds individual elements -- characters, place, theme, tone -- into a wonderfully whole, cohesive piece.

I have been dreaming about this move for a while. It is a big new leap for me, and an exciting step forward in my relationship. I am “living in an atmosphere of growth” -- one of the main keys to happiness that researcher Gretchen Rubin writes about in her book The Happiness Project. Every day when I come home and fit my key into the lock, a tiny thrill passes through me to realize: I live here now.

And then I open my front door. And I remember that, as exciting and beautiful and necessary as moving forward is, it is also messy. Moving is hard work. Moving is boxes and boxes and boxes to unpack and sort through and put away. Changing, growing, building means re-examining every single one of those things we are carrying through this life with us and asking ourselves whether it still serves us. Whether it is worth holding onto. Or whether it is perhaps time to let go. 

Yes, in order to fully embrace all the bright potential of the future, we must loosen our grip on the past. On the way things have always been done. On our preconceived notions and expectations. Change, even positive change, is chaotic and uncomfortable and a little bit scary. The best way to overcome our fears is to embrace them. How do we embrace change? By being creatively open to new ideas.

From one of my many boxes, I unearthed notes I had jotted down during the AWP (Association of Writers & Writing Programs) Conference two years ago. These notes are from a session about developing the emotional lives of our characters.

Character questions: 
- What does this character love more than anything else in the world? 
- What would hurt this character more than anything else in the world? 

You need to believe that the story can surprise you. Think about what you know about the story and go in the opposite direction. If you can surprise yourself, then you can surprise the reader. If you do the work of place and character, then the story can surprise you.

I love this idea of being surprised by the story, and not by a cheap gimmick or trying to play a trick on the reader; rather, being surprised by the story because you have done the real work of developing your characters and walking around spaces with them. In other words, you have unpacked their boxes. And there might be a box or two way over in the corner, or hidden in the back of their closet, that will surprise you in a genuine, authentic way. That is the type of discovery I aim for in my writing.

In his masterful book Genership 1.0: Beyond Leadership Toward Liberation the Creative Soul, author David Castro spends a whole chapter delving into human emotional motivation. Not only is this insightful information for us as people existing in a complex society, it is also very helpful to think about when developing characters:

"Emotion deeply informs motivation; strong emotional intensity provides the energy for action. Weak intensity manifests as low energy, producing ineffective or meaningless responses. Individuals and teams may learn to mask their emotions, expressing feeling only through movement toward what they desire and away from what they detest. In some cultures, direct displays of emotion are not common and may be viewed as wasted opportunities for action. Expressions such as 'Don't get mad, get even' and 'Still waters run deep' exemplify this recognition that powerful emotional responses may remain hidden while they animate action from beneath the surface." -- pgs. 155-156

What great questions to ask yourself -- and to ask of your characters! I'll add them to my jotted-down list from above:

Character questions: 
- What does this character love more than anything else in the world? 
- What would hurt this character more than anything else in the world? 
- What hidden emotions animate or amplify this character's actions?
- On a scale of 1 to 10 (1 being a robot and 10 being dramatic fireworks) what is the baseline emotional intensity of your character?

By asking these questions, we get to know our characters on a deeper level. We have a blueprint for them as individuals that we can carry throughout our journey with them. When we develop the emotional lives of our characters, they become whole, flawed, nuanced, authentic human beings. In short, they become REAL.

Now... time for me to head back to unpacking. Like so many worthwhile activities in life, moving is hard work -- but it is good work, too. The only way for us to deepen and expand as people -- and the only way for us to grow as writers -- is to keep moving forward. To keep unpacking our boxes. To keep using our creative imaginations to explore the rooms in this diverse, lovingly rooted, marvelous world we share together.