Though I started writing at a young age, it wasn’t
until after I was married and found my fourth child eating one of my many scribblings that I thought, “Hey – maybe I should submit some of this work!”
I started with non-fiction freelancing, because those pieces
were faster and easier for me to pound out, allowing me to gain experience and
publishing credits while I was slogging away at my fiction ideas. As a teacher,
I consider myself to be a patient person multiplied by 1,000. As a writer? Not
so much.
At the same time, I was also reading a lot of short stories because they fit in better with my mom-of-young-children attention span and
exhaustion level. I had been buying The Best American Short Stories
since college and eagerly awaited the new editions each year. The stories were (and
still are) surprising, heady and intelligent, and though they could be funny,
they were mostly what I thought of as “serious writing.” And I wanted to be a “serious
writer.”
So, in between my freelance gigs, I started writing a
short story called, “The Oven’s Reflection,” which was about a young woman
named Margaret who had been fired from her high-power executive position amidst a
backdrop of scandal. As a result, Margaret suffers a sort of breakdown and becomes
convinced that her brand-new oven -- the Gustaver 5000 -- is speaking to her. (I know. Don't judge!)
There was a lot of intended DRAMA and SYMBOLISM and THEME packed into
this story, as well as “unique” one-liners coming from a sarcastic cooking appliance
who was decidedly not a feminist. At the end of the story, Gustaver calls Margaret
an “Imposter!” to which Margaret’s response is to finally cook a meal in the
oven, silencing Gustaver forever. (You're still judging!)
Since this was my very first fiction submission, I
naturally sent it out to five of the tougher markets of the day – which were also the ones most frequently cited in my beloved short story
anthology.
Because, why not?
The bad news was that all five publications rejected
my story. The good news was that they all included hand-written personal responses.
(This was right before the dawn of email submissions. Yes, I’m *that* old.). All
the notes said something kind about my writing and/or the story premise (Fools!),
but the final reply which changed everything was:
This was well-written. Interesting/quirky
story. I’m not sure the voice is right, though. Submit again. Cheers!
I must have read that note fifty times, dissecting
each short phrase to determine the level of positivity or negativity attached
to the words. I was also fixated on the comment about “voice” – individual
writing style – and believed the editor was correct. The voice wasn’t right,
because it wasn’t mine. Instead, it was the voice of a writer who was trying
to write in a certain way. It was a voice that was pretending to be something
it wasn’t.
“The Oven’s Reflection” had been born from the question, “What type of story will they want?” And not, “What type of story do
I want to write?” It was like hearing that wretched metal-mouth Gustaver
yelling, “Imposter!” all over again.
So, I thought about the types of stories, language, dialogue
and humor I was conjuring in my head vs. what actually ended up on the page.
They
didn’t match.
And, as a huge reader, I thought about all of the books to which I
consistently found myself returning. Sure, there were “grown-up” books I loved,
but the ones I read again and again were all middle grade.
That’s not to say that middle grade literature is less intelligent, important, entertaining or deep than what’s written with an older
audience in mind. MG literature is all of those things and more. But it does
have a distinctly different voice -- a voice that welcomes in readers who span an
age range of great change, new experiences and feelings of being in-between. Middle grade works were what excited me as a teacher, a reader and a writer.
So, I sat back down and then followed the observant
editor’s advice to, “Submit again.” But not to their publication.
Instead, I submitted a story to a middle grade magazine -- a story that had been dancing around
in my head for a while called, “The Misadventures of Average Girl,” about 11-year-old
Sophie who likes to write comic books, has a female cat named Mr. Fur, and who always feels she is left behind. When American
Girl called to let me know they wanted to publish it, one
of the first things the editor said was, “We loved your voice!” I knew then I had found my niche.
All because of an encounter with a sarcastic kitchen appliance.
Thanks, Gustaver.
I read Louisiana’s Way
Home on my way home from Louisiana (ha!), and it was every bit as delightful
as I’d anticipated. Now, you're probably thinking I can’t possibly write an unbiased
review, given my fan-girl confession, and you're probably right. But if you’re a fan
of Kate’s work, trust me…you won’t be disappointed. Louisiana’s Way Home is classic Kate DiCamillo: sad and hopeful,
tender and humorous, quirky and charming. 