Back in early May, I was anxious for the release of Wilder Mind, the new album by the band Mumford & Sons. I’m using more than one meaning of “anxious” here; I was excited to have new music from a band that’s become a favorite of mine over the past few years, but I was also a little concerned. There was every indication this new album would be a serious departure from their signature sound.
Initially I was a bit disappointed with the changes, because the band had always been such a reliably unique feature on the landscape of popular music, and the sound of the new album was definitely a step away from that direction. But I kept listening and gave it every fair chance to connect with me. Eventually it did, to the degree that when I listen to it now I hear more similarities to their previous work than differences. The new songs convey the same emotional resonance as the older ones, and have the same storytelling aesthetic. The band still wrote the songs that wanted to be written, but just wound up writing them differently than before, and trusting what followed.
I thought a lot about how my reaction to this album could be like a middle grade reader expecting a certain kind of story from a favorite genre. Most kids in the middle grade age group will identify what they want to read by genre more than anything else, whether they realize they’re doing it or not. They’ll think, “Well, if I liked reading Book A, which has this kind of story, then I’ll probably like Book B because it has a similar story.” This kind of favorite-associating connection is a common discussion point between teachers and parents while searching for ways to engage reluctant readers. Scary books, funny books, books about animals, sports books, myths and legends, historical fiction, science fiction, graphic novels, sad books, adventures, non-fiction, or something from a series -- all of these and more are explored while trying to find that magical gateway that will get a child interested enough in reading. A lot of middle grade readers, both the tentative and the self-motivated, are more likely to try a book if they have a good idea about what to expect from it before they commit to reading.
So where does that leave us, the middle grade writers? Should we focus on horror stories because the Goosebumps books have had such staying power? Should we start sketching characters for graphic novels to take advantage of that current popularity, or create a boarding school filled with extraordinary people where we can send a misfit character who will make friends and enemies, face challenges, and have adventures? Should we mold our story ideas to conform with the most popular genres, and then keep driving along while always staying in the same lane?
Of course not. I’d like to think anyone who would seek out a blog devoted to middle grade literature would understand the futility of chasing trends as a key to success. But what about establishing a platform when you’re starting out, or even just trying to find a niche?
Let’s take me, for example. I don’t read a lot of fantasy. I don’t have anything against it, it’s just never been something I’ve actively sought out. If I decided to try and write a fantasy novel, I’d find myself at the beginning of a steep uphill battle because my passion isn’t there. But what if I was lucky enough to have a tidy little pile of published books years from now, and one day a brilliant idea for a fantasy story came out of nowhere and smacked me upside the head? Would it be better to take it on and work out the idea, or ignore a story I felt strongly about and move on to something else I felt was more expected of me?
The way I see it, there shouldn’t be anything wrong with a writer trying to demonstrate the kind of range they potentially have, especially when they’re still working to become established. Since there really aren’t any guarantees in publishing, I think the first rule has to be for a writer to stay true to their passion. If that means living inside of one genre for all the reading and writing you do because that’s what you love, great. You’ll have plenty of background knowledge to work with, and that will translate into your writing, and you’ll still likely find ways to keep yourself challenged. But if not? Well, I think that’s okay too. You still have to write something you feel strongly about, and maybe your stories will take you in different, unexpected, and exciting new directions.
If publishers do guide their established writers to work inside the genres that fit their familiar platforms? I suppose that would be the kind of problem I don’t think I’d mind having. But until it happens -- if it ever does -- I’ll just keep telling the stories that want to be told. Even if that means sometimes telling them differently than before, and trusting what follows.
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
Monday, July 13, 2015
Friday, October 3, 2014
Why I Write Middle Grade – by Jason A. Rust (aka Puddin)
Let’s get something very, very clear: I never intended to write Middle Grade. In fact, when the day came near the end of my 36th consecutive year of breathing to finally quit pretending I was going to start writing books—you know, someday—and instead actually begin writing something that very day, a Middle Grade novel was the very last thing on my mind.
See, I was going to be a King (of the Stephen variety). Or a Robert Jordan. I’d have even been happy to come in as a Weis and Hickman, especially since I figured I already had enough errant thoughts for two people, easy.
The point, though, is that I was going to write fantasy stuffs, and they would be for adults, leaning towards something accessible that even my wife or mother-in-law might enjoy, since they both tend to prefer books grounded in the Real World*. My novels would be about relatively average people (over 25, naturally!) dealing with remarkable, mature problems that anyone could see themselves wrangling over. Sometimes the stories might start with the modern day and spiral into a dark fantasy place with an edge of horror, and other times it would start with the edge of a double-bladed ax. But whatever the concept, the books were always going to be for grown-ups.
You know, because being able to write characters that swear like sailors six miles offshore was important to me. For reasons.
But then, a funny thing happened on the way to International Bestseller-dom. Back in the waning months of 2011, when I was knee-deep in creeping subplots for my first novel, my oldest son, at the time a mere child of 9 years and into reading books of his own choosing for the first time, asked me one night as I was hunched over my laptop, hammering out adverbs (badly), if he could read my fledgling novel.
Unfortunately for him, as that particular novel contains themes beyond the emotional range of most 9 year olds and is also littered with language I’m sure his mother would still prefer he not use when the grandparents come over to babysit, I had to tell him no. Hoping to lessen the blow somewhat, I told him he could read it when he got older, if he still wanted to. But he’s my son, meaning that demonstrating a modicum of patience was never likely to be his Plan A.
So he pitched Plan B.
“Well, if I can’t read that one until I’m older, maybe when you’re finished writing it, could you write one for us?”
Blink Blink
Wait. He wanted me to write a story that he and his 8- and 7- year-old brother and sister (respectively) could read on their own? Why…that was just crazy enough to work.
Maybe. I still wasn’t convinced, but I told him I’d see if I could come up with a good story.
Time past, as it does, and I finished that first novel, and revised it to within an inch of chucking it into the oven and setting the self-cleaning cycle. But by the time another year rolled past, I finally had a novel to query.
Just in time for NaNoWriMo 2012. If you’re not familiar, NaNoWriMo is an abbreviation for “National Novel Writing Month”, which is this thing where caffeine-fueled fiends attempt to pound out a complete, 50,000-word sloppier-than-a-kid-on-picture-day-after-recess-and-spaghetti-lunch draft of a new novel all in the month of November. Before then, I’d always sworn I’d never attempt NaNo because 50,000 words, while indeed a sizeable chunk of text, does not an adult fantasy novel make.
But then I remembered Oldest Son asking me to write a new story, one for them. And hey, look at that, 50,000 words IS enough for a Middle Grade novel. Kind of the perfect number, really, if you write science fiction or fantasy.
cough likeIdo cough
But then, how do you write a middle grade novel?
I didn’t know. Not the foggiest clue. What I did know, though, is that I’ve often been accused through the most recent two decades of my life of acting somewhat, um, less mature than my age would indicate. And as the father of four kids ranging in age from 4 to 10, I also had a very clear daily view into the “He touched me! She called me Cheesebuckets! Dad! Make Him/Her Give Me The REMOTE!” world of the middle grade set.
So when November 1st arrived, I put my fears aside and started hammering away at the keyboard like a squirrel with a full piece of corn. Fast. Much faster than I’d written the novel before. So fast I didn’t have time to think about whether I was hurling up words that made any kind sense, or sounded right or, heck, might someday be read by anyone other than my kids.
And thus my second novel, my first Middle Grade, was born.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. “Puddin”, you say (yes, that’s a nickname of mine because, well, I’m perpetually 12 and uh…it’s a long story), “that’s a great fish tale, but it’s a lot more about how you came to write middle grade. Not so much the why.”
Well, that’s the thing. An even funnier thing happened along the way to reaching that particular “The End”. Somewhere in the mad, almost thoughtless dash to come up with 50,000 words in 31 days, I found something else, too. I found a novel that was funny and fun, full of honest mistakes and the adventures that often accompany them in fiction.
I found the kind of book I had loved reading when I was a kid.
Even better, I found a hunk of prose that sounded like me. That felt like me. And characters that lived and breathed and hoped and feared and bickered like uncertain, just-trying-to-learn-about-the-world-around-them middle grade kids do. Much like the nerdy, unsure 12 year-old from 1985 that still lingers deep inside me, hoping for friends to come over for a game of D&D.
It took me some time to realize it, but that month, I found My Voice, and got back in touch with the light of the youth I’ve never really outgrown. And more important than any of that, I found a new way to communicate and empathize with own my kids. A way to see the world through their eyes, even if the world I’m seeing is one of my own creation.
Why do I write middle grade? Partially because it fits me like a spandex Star Trek uniform from The Next Generation (the first few seasons, duh).
But also because I think it helps make me a better parent. Which I’m hoping will cut down on therapy sessions down the road.
Pud’n
*By “Real World”, I mean the one we average folk live in, NOT that farcical TV show with the unlikely arrangement of strangers MTV used to produce in the hopes someone would hook up…and then break up…all on camera.
See, I was going to be a King (of the Stephen variety). Or a Robert Jordan. I’d have even been happy to come in as a Weis and Hickman, especially since I figured I already had enough errant thoughts for two people, easy.
The point, though, is that I was going to write fantasy stuffs, and they would be for adults, leaning towards something accessible that even my wife or mother-in-law might enjoy, since they both tend to prefer books grounded in the Real World*. My novels would be about relatively average people (over 25, naturally!) dealing with remarkable, mature problems that anyone could see themselves wrangling over. Sometimes the stories might start with the modern day and spiral into a dark fantasy place with an edge of horror, and other times it would start with the edge of a double-bladed ax. But whatever the concept, the books were always going to be for grown-ups.
You know, because being able to write characters that swear like sailors six miles offshore was important to me. For reasons.
But then, a funny thing happened on the way to International Bestseller-dom. Back in the waning months of 2011, when I was knee-deep in creeping subplots for my first novel, my oldest son, at the time a mere child of 9 years and into reading books of his own choosing for the first time, asked me one night as I was hunched over my laptop, hammering out adverbs (badly), if he could read my fledgling novel.
Unfortunately for him, as that particular novel contains themes beyond the emotional range of most 9 year olds and is also littered with language I’m sure his mother would still prefer he not use when the grandparents come over to babysit, I had to tell him no. Hoping to lessen the blow somewhat, I told him he could read it when he got older, if he still wanted to. But he’s my son, meaning that demonstrating a modicum of patience was never likely to be his Plan A.
So he pitched Plan B.
“Well, if I can’t read that one until I’m older, maybe when you’re finished writing it, could you write one for us?”
Blink Blink
Wait. He wanted me to write a story that he and his 8- and 7- year-old brother and sister (respectively) could read on their own? Why…that was just crazy enough to work.
Maybe. I still wasn’t convinced, but I told him I’d see if I could come up with a good story.
Time past, as it does, and I finished that first novel, and revised it to within an inch of chucking it into the oven and setting the self-cleaning cycle. But by the time another year rolled past, I finally had a novel to query.
Just in time for NaNoWriMo 2012. If you’re not familiar, NaNoWriMo is an abbreviation for “National Novel Writing Month”, which is this thing where caffeine-fueled fiends attempt to pound out a complete, 50,000-word sloppier-than-a-kid-on-picture-day-after-recess-and-spaghetti-lunch draft of a new novel all in the month of November. Before then, I’d always sworn I’d never attempt NaNo because 50,000 words, while indeed a sizeable chunk of text, does not an adult fantasy novel make.
But then I remembered Oldest Son asking me to write a new story, one for them. And hey, look at that, 50,000 words IS enough for a Middle Grade novel. Kind of the perfect number, really, if you write science fiction or fantasy.
cough likeIdo cough
But then, how do you write a middle grade novel?
I didn’t know. Not the foggiest clue. What I did know, though, is that I’ve often been accused through the most recent two decades of my life of acting somewhat, um, less mature than my age would indicate. And as the father of four kids ranging in age from 4 to 10, I also had a very clear daily view into the “He touched me! She called me Cheesebuckets! Dad! Make Him/Her Give Me The REMOTE!” world of the middle grade set.
So when November 1st arrived, I put my fears aside and started hammering away at the keyboard like a squirrel with a full piece of corn. Fast. Much faster than I’d written the novel before. So fast I didn’t have time to think about whether I was hurling up words that made any kind sense, or sounded right or, heck, might someday be read by anyone other than my kids.
And thus my second novel, my first Middle Grade, was born.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. “Puddin”, you say (yes, that’s a nickname of mine because, well, I’m perpetually 12 and uh…it’s a long story), “that’s a great fish tale, but it’s a lot more about how you came to write middle grade. Not so much the why.”
Well, that’s the thing. An even funnier thing happened along the way to reaching that particular “The End”. Somewhere in the mad, almost thoughtless dash to come up with 50,000 words in 31 days, I found something else, too. I found a novel that was funny and fun, full of honest mistakes and the adventures that often accompany them in fiction.
I found the kind of book I had loved reading when I was a kid.
Even better, I found a hunk of prose that sounded like me. That felt like me. And characters that lived and breathed and hoped and feared and bickered like uncertain, just-trying-to-learn-about-the-world-around-them middle grade kids do. Much like the nerdy, unsure 12 year-old from 1985 that still lingers deep inside me, hoping for friends to come over for a game of D&D.
It took me some time to realize it, but that month, I found My Voice, and got back in touch with the light of the youth I’ve never really outgrown. And more important than any of that, I found a new way to communicate and empathize with own my kids. A way to see the world through their eyes, even if the world I’m seeing is one of my own creation.
Why do I write middle grade? Partially because it fits me like a spandex Star Trek uniform from The Next Generation (the first few seasons, duh).
But also because I think it helps make me a better parent. Which I’m hoping will cut down on therapy sessions down the road.
Pud’n
*By “Real World”, I mean the one we average folk live in, NOT that farcical TV show with the unlikely arrangement of strangers MTV used to produce in the hopes someone would hook up…and then break up…all on camera.
Monday, April 21, 2014
My Child, My Book
I watched my oldest five children on the trampoline the other day, and I kept thinking "Who's going to the ER tonight?"
Thankfully, no one did. But I noticed how I let my younger children do things that I would not have let my older children try when they were young. Mostly, this was due to my growth and learning as a parent, and not a function of the childrens' behaviors.
That got me thinking about how learning to write a novel is much like learning to raise a child. I was working on a new manuscript at the time, and couldn't help drawing some obvious comparisons.
(I'm sure many people have noted this, but since I've never read a post about it before, I'll give it my spin.)
1. Committing to the idea of my first child is exciting and maybe a little bit scary - but mostly fun.
2. Pregnancy can be difficult, or not. (Like a first draft, no?)
3. Once that baby's born, I'm all "LOOK AT THIS WONDERFUL PIECE OF PERFECTION WHICH I CREATED!"
4. I discover that the baby poops, burps, spits up and requires frequent feedings and cleanings.
5. As the baby matures, so I grow and learn about parenting.
6. I want to show off my kid too soon.
7. I want other people to give me positive feedback when my child is good.
8. When my child makes mistakes, I want to know why. I want to help my child improve.
9. I want my child to be polite, well spoken, intelligent, strong, and kind.
10. I ask other parents for advice and tips, especially when encountering problems with my child.
11. Each of my children will be different, but should share common principles.
12. Each child is part of me, but different.
13. I will do everything I can to prepare each of my children for release into the world.
Although I become a more experienced parent the more children I have, I still must apply what I've learned if I'm going to do them justice.
I owe my children love, discipline, and overall, my best effort as a parent.
As you "raise your children", ask lots of questions, seek all the answers, but let your children be themselves.
Thankfully, no one did. But I noticed how I let my younger children do things that I would not have let my older children try when they were young. Mostly, this was due to my growth and learning as a parent, and not a function of the childrens' behaviors.
That got me thinking about how learning to write a novel is much like learning to raise a child. I was working on a new manuscript at the time, and couldn't help drawing some obvious comparisons.
(I'm sure many people have noted this, but since I've never read a post about it before, I'll give it my spin.)
My Child, My Book.
1. Committing to the idea of my first child is exciting and maybe a little bit scary - but mostly fun.
2. Pregnancy can be difficult, or not. (Like a first draft, no?)
3. Once that baby's born, I'm all "LOOK AT THIS WONDERFUL PIECE OF PERFECTION WHICH I CREATED!"
4. I discover that the baby poops, burps, spits up and requires frequent feedings and cleanings.
5. As the baby matures, so I grow and learn about parenting.
6. I want to show off my kid too soon.
7. I want other people to give me positive feedback when my child is good.
8. When my child makes mistakes, I want to know why. I want to help my child improve.
9. I want my child to be polite, well spoken, intelligent, strong, and kind.
10. I ask other parents for advice and tips, especially when encountering problems with my child.
11. Each of my children will be different, but should share common principles.
12. Each child is part of me, but different.
13. I will do everything I can to prepare each of my children for release into the world.
Although I become a more experienced parent the more children I have, I still must apply what I've learned if I'm going to do them justice.
I owe my children love, discipline, and overall, my best effort as a parent.
As you "raise your children", ask lots of questions, seek all the answers, but let your children be themselves.
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