Chuck Mallory's Blog, page 2

Well, whaddaya know?

Photo by Oleg Moroz on Unsplash

I was knee-deep in getting my novel Lena: Wild Girl on the Prairie ready for self-publishing on Amazon KDP when to my surprise, I got a response to an email from an editor at a publishing house. It was from South Dakota Historical Society Press, the group that published Pioneer Girl in 2014.

Pioneer Girl, for those who don’t know it, was the original manuscript Laura Ingalls Wilder wrote. Never before published, it had all the secrets and scandals she left out of the Little House series. Like the night Pa and family skipped town because he couldn’t pay the rent. Or when young teen Laura worked as a barmaid.

A weighty, 472-page $40 book with footnotes on every page, it turned out to be a stunning seller: the initial 15,000-copy run turned into a second 15,000-copy printing, immediately chased by a 45,000-copy printing.

Never underestimate the power of Lauraworld.

The Find-an-Agent Carnival Ride

I’d emailed this editor through the publishing website six months before. I doubted I would get a response, since the press mostly does scholarly works about South Dakota history. At that time I was getting tired of the Querytracker tilt-a-whirl.

Querytracker is a nice service that lists agents who are open to seeing manuscripts. It’s truly a time-saver on both sides. Most agents have you fill out a form with some basic query information, and you can track the time you’ve waited to hear back.

However, historical middle-grade fiction is quite a narrow oeuvre, and American “manifest destiny” elicits a cold stare. Publishers are rightfully balancing children’s literature to provides novels set in countries other than the U.S., along with stories  featuring people from diverse cultural backgrounds.

Amazon KDP was not new to me. In 2014, I published a collection of middle-grade scary stories, The Owl Motel. One of these stories I had published in an anthology, a traditional publishing achievement that got me SCBWI-PAL (“published and listed”) status. I didn’t approach agents with this manuscript. It was a collection of middle-grade stories. Even short stories for grownups have a ridiculously small place in publishing. So I knew to publish directly on Amazon KDP.

I was pleased with the process. While I never expected many sales, I was glad to see that people did find and buy the book.

I’ve done some deep digging on Amazon KDP, not only the process as Amazon describes it, but from online groups including a large one on Reddit, where authors talk about their experiences.

My conclusion is that it truly is a tremendous venue for authors, especially the ones who are smart enough to have had writing experience, know how to edit and proofread, and really produce quality material. Amazon KDP democratizes book publishing.

Self-Publishing Shame

It used to be that writers said if you self-published, it was because the book wasn’t “good enough” for traditional publishing. This is no longer true. Amazon sells half of all books sold in the U.S. Yes, some books are from traditional publishers. But many books sold are those published solely through Amazon KDP.

You don’t need to be told about the influence of Amazon for buying books. Sure, as writers we all love our local independent bookstores, where we can have coffee, talk with the clerks and go to autographings. But for the day-to-day getting books, especially if you don’t live near an independent bookstore, Amazon is the ticket.

I have rewritten and edited Lena: Wild Girl on the Prairie many times and was ready to get a professional illustrator to create the cover. Then, the email came from the editor. I sent the manuscript after being warned that consideration takes 3-6 months.

And now I’m wondering, do I want the wait of traditional publishing, when the website I created about the book, Lena: Wild Girl on the Prairie.com has gotten great traffic? And when I already have a good email list of those who want to buy the book?

What would you do? Wait for traditional publishing, or go the Amazon KDP route?

AI: The Free Version is Not Even Worth the Price

For your fun and amusement, ask AI questions about you. I used the free version of Bing called “CoPilot,” and it certainly piloted me into things about myself I didn’t even know.

So far it thinks I have a cookbook entitled “Country Cooking.” This is just a Facebook page I created for my previous work and recipes from GRIT and MOTHER EARTH NEWS.

It also thinks I am with Clearview Investments, which is another Chuck Mallory.

It also thinks I’m with a shipbuilding company called MJLF (dangerously close to MILF!) and am on the board of the Mystic Seaport Museum, continuing a family legacy that dates back to 1816. Sorry, bot, my ancestors were poor dirt farmers in Missouri.

It even knows about my writing:

Me: Tell me more about Chuck Mallory’s writing style.

Copilot:

Certainly! Chuck Mallory’s writing style is characterized by its warmth, nostalgia, and authenticity. Let me elaborate:

Warmth and Comfort: Mallory’s prose often evokes a sense of comfort, like sitting by a cozy fireplace with a cup of hot cocoa. His descriptions of food, landscapes, and everyday moments create a warm atmosphere that draws readers in.Nostalgia: Whether he’s writing about family recipes, small-town life, or childhood memories, Mallory infuses his work with a touch of nostalgia. Readers feel a connection to simpler times and relatable experiences.Authenticity: Mallory’s writing feels genuine. He doesn’t shy away from imperfections or messy emotions. His characters are flawed but endearing, and their struggles resonate with readers.Accessible Language: Mallory avoids overly complex language, making his stories accessible to a wide audience. His writing flows smoothly, allowing readers to immerse themselves in the narrative.

In summary, Chuck Mallory’s writing invites readers to slow down, savor the moment, and appreciate life’s simple pleasures.

Huh? Didn’t AI at least read Jarora and Marvon, 2254 A.D.

My blog entry today was stolen from someone else

Talk about taking it easy.

Geoff Rodkey — photo chosen because he’s a little bit hotter in this one

Looking at the date of my last post, I look like I’ve given up this blog or got lazy. Neither is true. I’ve been writing another novel, finished it, and outlined another, all while looking warily at Querytracker and not fitting any of the currently required niches of traditional publishing authorship–young, female and emo.

I’ve also been studying self-publishing, but that’s another story. I think the key to success in self-publishing is MONEY–not making it, but spending it.

Seldom do I subscribe to other blogs, having a hopscotch tendency on choosing subjects of interest. This one I follow, and read, from Geoff Rodkey, a brilliant author who wrote “We’re Not From Here.” That middle grade novel is a thinly-disguised story of immigration wrapped in a shiny sci-fi package. He’s written other good books, too, though I forgive him for “co-writing” (really, ghostwriting) the “Marcus” books with Kevin Hart. I pray Geoff didn’t have to sit in a room listening to Hart’s squalling and bleating–at least, that’s what Hart does on TV commercials.

The blog is “Geoff Rodkey’s Bad Advice.” This gives you a hint it’s funny. And anyone whose name is Geoff rather than Jeff has to be worth listening to.

There’s Ritalin in his blog entry, which I wish he’d give to Kevin Hart.

And this is his cornerstone entry (so far) because it is so DEAD-ON about traditional publishing. If you’re an author trying to get published, you will laugh at loud at the sad hard truths herein.

https://open.substack.com/pub/geoffrodkey/p/helicopter-parenting-for-the-aspiring?r=ibhew&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=email

A.I. Scares Me, then Gets Coy

Are Writers Cooked? Not Yet, and Here’s Why

You cannot have missed the news about artificial intelligence and how much it can do. There was a recent thread on X (Twitter), where an author found out her book cover design was partially created by AI. She was blasted with mean responses—but she never knew it before she was told on the social media platform.

Writers have to be shuddering in their well-worn boots. After all, you must fight like bobcat to get anywhere in this business. Even self-publishing, which guarantees publication, is a craggy path. Getting sales is like playing dentist with an alligator.

Since I’m almost finished with my middle-grade novel, Lena, I thought, generically Victorian-era prairie themed fiction should be where I go with this.

Scary. But okay, I decided, I’m going to try it. I’m going on Bing to see what it will do. 

Photo by Aideal Hwa on Unsplash

Bing is not the most powerful AI tool out there (none of us common folk even have access to that yet) but it’s free and everywhere. If I were in high school right now, would I use it to write papers? No, because writing always came easy for me. I took a Shakespeare class in college where you had to read 12 plays. I read two, which I hated, then got Cliff’s Notes and bluffed my way through the class by writing admiring summaries—not directly from Cliff’s Notes, but getting the gist in my head and then putting it in my own lying words. Psychological strategy was key; the professor no doubt loved Shakespeare. 

I’d gotten a good grade in high school using the same technique, even without Cliff’s Notes. We were assigned a horribly long, detailed novel set in the Roman Empire by LeGette Blythe. I slogged it out through a few chapters, then dipped into parts of the book and read the end. I hated it but said I loved it, my summary was accurate, and I got a perfect grade.

Proof that your smarts are still greater than AI. 

Well, so far.

Would I have used AI in math, science, or other subjects I hated? Certainly. But then, I didn’t have to pop in into TurnItIn.com, and possibly get busted.

There was the inviting box on Bing. I typed in, Write a story about a girl on the prairie and there’s a windstorm

Okay, I’ll try to write a story for you. Here’s what I came up with:

The Windstorm

Lila had always loved the prairie, with its endless fields of golden wheat and blue sky. She enjoyed helping her father on the farm, riding her horse, and playing with her dog. She felt free and happy on the land.

But one day, everything changed. A dark cloud appeared on the horizon, growing bigger and bigger as it approached. Lila heard a loud roar, like a train, and saw dust and debris flying in the air. It was a windstorm, a powerful gust of wind that could rip apart anything in its path.

Lila ran to the house, where her father was waiting for her. He grabbed her hand and pulled her inside, locking the door behind them. They huddled in the basement, listening to the wind howl and the house creak. Lila was scared, but she trusted her father. He told her stories to calm her down, stories of his childhood, of his parents, of how he met her mother.

The windstorm lasted for hours, but it felt like days to Lila. She wondered if their farm would survive, if their crops would be ruined, if their animals would be hurt. She prayed for the storm to end, for the sun to come back, for everything to be normal again.

Finally, the wind died down, and the silence was deafening. Lila and her father emerged from the basement, cautiously opening the door. They gasped at what they saw.

The prairie was unrecognizable. The fields were flattened, the fences were broken, the barn was collapsed. Their house was damaged, but still standing. Their horse and dog were nowhere to be seen.

Lila felt a surge of sadness and anger. She hated the windstorm, she hated what it had done to her home. She wanted to cry, but she didn’t. She saw her father’s face, pale and tired, but also determined and hopeful.

He hugged her and said, “Don’t worry, Lila. We’ll rebuild. We’ll start over. We’ll make it through this together.”

Lila nodded and hugged him back. She knew he was right. They still had each other, they still had their land, they still had their dreams.

They were prairie people, and they were strong.

Then it asked questions like story prompts to keep it going.

I slightly revised the query and got another story about “Anna.” No title this time.

The wind howled like a pack of wolves, whipping the dust and dirt into a frenzy. Anna clutched her bonnet to her head and squinted her eyes against the stinging sand. She had been out gathering eggs from the chicken coop when the storm hit, and now she had to make it back to the farmhouse before it got worse.

She ran as fast as she could, clutching the basket of eggs to her chest. She hoped her parents and siblings were safe inside. She wondered if they had seen her leave and if they were worried about her. She prayed that the storm would not damage their crops or their animals. They had worked so hard to make a living on the prairie, and they could not afford to lose anything.

She reached the porch and opened the door, stumbling inside. She was greeted by a chorus of relieved voices.

“Anna! Thank God you’re back!”

“Are you alright, honey?”

“Where have you been?”

She set the basket of eggs on the table and hugged her mother, who wrapped her arms around her.

“I’m fine, Mama. I’m sorry, I went to get some eggs and I didn’t see the storm coming.”

Her father came over and ruffled her hair.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. We’re just glad you’re safe. That was a close call.”

He looked out the window and shook his head.

“This is one of the worst storms I’ve ever seen. I hope it passes soon.”

Anna nodded and joined her brothers and sisters by the fireplace. They huddled together, listening to the wind rage outside. They sang songs and told stories to pass the time, hoping that the storm would end soon and that they would see the sun again.

I revised the query slightly again and got another story about “Lila.” Again, no title.

Lila had always loved the prairie, with its wide open spaces and endless sky. She felt free and happy when she ran through the fields of wildflowers, chasing butterflies and rabbits. She loved her family’s farm, where they grew wheat and corn and raised cows and chickens. She loved her parents and her little brother, who always made her laugh.

But today, she hated the prairie. She hated the wind that blew so hard it knocked her off her feet. She hated the dust that filled the air and made it hard to breathe. She hated the storm that came out of nowhere and threatened to destroy everything she loved.

She had been playing with her brother in the barn when they heard the roar of the wind. They ran outside and saw a dark cloud approaching, swirling and spinning like a giant snake. They heard their father shout at them to get inside the cellar, where they would be safe. They ran towards the house, but the wind was too strong. It lifted Lila off the ground and carried her away from her family.

She screamed and cried, but no one could hear her. She felt like a leaf in a hurricane, tossed and turned by the wind. She saw flashes of lightning and heard thunder. She saw things flying past her: branches, rocks, pieces of metal. She felt something hit her head and she blacked out.

She woke up hours later, lying on the ground. She was covered in dirt and blood. She felt pain all over her body. She looked around and saw nothing but destruction. The storm had passed, but it had left behind a trail of ruin. The fields were barren, the crops were gone, the barn was collapsed, the house was on fire. She saw no sign of her family or their animals.

She felt a surge of panic and despair. She thought she was alone in the world. She thought she had lost everything.

But then she heard a faint sound. A whimper. A cry.

She followed the sound and found a small hole in the ground. She dug with her hands and uncovered a wooden door. She opened it and saw a dim light inside.

She crawled into the cellar and saw her family. They were alive. They were hurt, but they were alive.

They saw her and hugged her. They cried tears of joy and relief.

They told her they had been worried sick about her. They told her they had prayed for her to be safe. They told her they loved her.

She told them she loved them too.

They thanked God for sparing their lives.

They held each other tight, feeling grateful for each other.

They knew they had lost their home and their livelihood, but they still had each other.

They knew they would survive.

They knew they would rebuild.

They knew they would never give up on the prairie.

Comparing this to Laura Ingalls Wilder, you can easily tell it does not have the “heart” of a writer in the writing. There were also many cliched phrases, like the wind died down, listening to the wind rage outside, tossed and turned, tears of joy and relief, and many others. I didn’t indicate middle-grade, so I deduce this as more of a chapter book level. Except for the “covered in dirt and blood” part of the second Lila story!

People rarely called each other “honey” and “sweetheart” in the 1870s. They certainly didn’t have a basement in a prairie home.

What made me tremble was “Lila.” That’s awfully close to Lena. The other girl in the story was Anna, but that’s still four letters. I don’t think AI is harvesting from my PC, but it surely knows I’ve been searching about the real-life Lena or that my pen name is connected to the name Lena on the internet. Lena did have a “little brother,” but that’s also on the internet. My character also gathers eggs in the part I just wrote yesterday. Shudder. But: that’s a common thing in prairie stories.

So, I’m not too scared. But I’m going to keep writing and get a place in children’s book publishing right away. You should, too. This could get bad.

Cool Days Mean Hot Games

Let’s take a break from talking about writing and play games!

With fall and winter approaching, it’s hard to let go of summer. After all, things seemed to break loose this summer as people came out of two years of being cloistered. Here’s a great idea for filling those evenings when the sun sets too early: board games.

In most households, there is either one adult or two. Even a couple at home does not normally think of spending an evening with a board game. After all, don’t you need at least four people? No: here are 7 games for two adults!

All games work on two principles: luck or skill. In most games, the two items are combined. Children’s games are almost always luck: Candyland, for instance, or Chutes and Ladders are both games where you land on a space and something happens. That’s it. A game like Jenga is all skill. Poker, canasta and most card games are a combination.

For a couple that wants to stay home in an evening, Monopoly isn’t a great choice — it takes forever. Checkers and Chinese checkers get boring pretty quickly. The game of Life — not much like real life. If one of you is good with words and the other isn’t, Scrabble is one-sided. Many people don’t love the slow-moving game of Chess. My personal favorite, Cards Against Humanity, truly needs a group.

What’s different about this list is there are no war games — aren’t we all sick of war? Nor are there games that require buying multiple sets of cards to amp it up, like Magic. Many of you reading this list likely are tired of vampires, zombies, and sorcery themes. Don’t we have enough of that on streaming TV?

Cathedral. We’re talking two players here and ONLY two, making this board game a rarity among the array. It’s also beautiful. If you put all the pieces on the board and just looked at it, it would be worth it as an interesting piece of decor in your home. Battle to build castles, racing your opponent. Block or outmaneuver your opponent. Claim turf. It’s ironic that all this ambitious greed is so hard and stressful in real life but oh-so-fun in a game.

2. Wingspan. Run a wildlife preserve without getting pecked, getting in bird doo-doo, and without leaving the comfort of your home. In this game, you’re a researcher or bird watcher or other type of bird professional. A large array of cards and other accoutrements will make you sing like a bird or screech like a hawk. A bit pricier than some board games, running about 50 bucks, but worth every egg.

3. Sagrada. For a quick play (a game can be done in 30 minutes), this can’t be topped. It’s an absolutely beautiful board game, and no wonder, you’re making a stained-glass window. However, this game goes well beyond puzzle-assembly ease. With dice and cards, it becomes a contest to see if you can create beauty — or get shattered.

4. Exploding Kittens. The makers of this caught my attention with their startling title! But what also grabbed me was their 81,000-plus positive ratings on Amazon. Who does that? Well, this game does. No better way to explain it other than it combines Russian roulette with exploding felines. It’s a pure chance game and might have the shortest learning curve of any game ever invented. And no actual kittens are harmed in the playing of this game lol.

5. I Should Have Known That. A cooler version of the Boomer-era favorite, Trivia Pursuit, this game is not as easy as you think, even if you think you’re an erudite. For instance: is a penguin a bird? How do you say Japan in Japanese? See, smarty. Even for two people, there are laughs plus easy learning here, making the time breeze by.

6. Ticket to Ride. This already-popular game is one you have to try if you haven’t. It’s easy to learn (but not babyish) and fast-moving. You build tracks across the U.S., adjoining cities and trying your best to outpace an opponent. With over 19,000 reviews on Amazon, it maintains an astonishing 5-star rating.

7. Star Wars Outer Rim. I hesitated to include such an obviously commercial title, but this is an enjoyable game even if you aren’t SW crazy. Heads up, though, this is not as short as the games mentioned earlier. It can take 3–4 hours. Also, even ONE person can play this! With bounty hunters, mercenaries and other scoundrels about, you fly around the galaxy to win and can even nab Star Wars characters as part of your crew. An engaging, strategic game that stays fresh.

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A Dose of Encouragement

All of these scenarios about writers exist:

* Someone wrote a first novel that sold well and made them famous. But after that success, none of his other books did well.

* Someone wrote for 25 years, completing several manuscripts and getting better each time–but never getting an agent or a publishing deal. She turned her time to other pursuits.

* A writer started publishing in college, had several very successful books, and even wrote a couple of lower-quality novels that still sold amazingly well.

* A writer became well-known posthumously, but never realized success in life.

What does this have to do with you? Unless you are a writer with the constitution of an ancient statue, you’ve probably let your mind wallow in scenarios like these:

Why her?

I read that book; can’t believe it’s selling so well.

He has all the luck!

Am I going to have to work that hard to get anywhere as a writer?

Why does it seem like my peers are starting to have success, and I’m going nowhere?

It’s okay. It’s human, especially when the journey is long.

Seldom do I blog to encourage. It seems so many others do it so well. But with two years of pandemic, and perhaps because this North Carolina winter is snowier and drearier than usual, the time feels right.

When you hit these walls of seeing the astounding success a few authors have, or see your peers from conferences or the query group start to get agents or deals, draw up your strength instead of going down dark alleys of why not me.

You have a truth within you want to express.

You have imagination and drive to work at this. 

External success happens randomly, but for the most part, one thing is true: from internal success comes every good thing.

YOU DO NOT NEED TO IMPORT POWER. YOU ARE BORN WITH IT. 

Do not despair when you can’t “feel” it inside. It’s there.

When you envy the outward success of others, you are building lack within. Stay away. There is nothing about you that’s small. You are trying, you are working, and sure, maybe there are pauses, but you have the same power within as the richest and most famous writers in the world.

I know it’s hard at times. I’ve been there too. Don’t give up. Remember your power within. It’s there and it will stay there. When doubt dwells, turn your mind to your truth within, and the stories you want to tell. Dwell there.

Photo courtesy: Adam Flockemann

This is Why Agents Send Form Letters

The “you’re rejected” emoji from QuerytrackerAnd I Can’t Blame Them

My friend called me after the writing seminar, on the verge of tears: “You won’t believe what happened at Words in the Woods!” 

“What?” I gasped. I dunno–when I hear “the woods” I automatically think of I Know What You Did Last Summer or Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

“She suggested I use GoFundMe to get money, and self-publish!” she cried.

That was horror enough for me. But I didn’t get it.

“Wait,” I said, “this was that agent you targeted?”

Yes. There were two agents at this particular conference that year, and she didn’t think she could get the younger one because she herself was “older” (50s) and was not an established children’s author–despite years of trying. I knew she didn’t want self-publishing, busking on GoFundMe or such. She was doing the work, writing writing writing, attending workshops and conferences, and truly had some talent.

Her story of What Happened in the Woods unraveled: they had “story tables” where one of each of the speakers headed a table filled with writers at the conference. She landed at her targeted agent’s table. She read her “first page.” It fell flat.

No surprise. Her type of writing unravels, winding itself into your heart by the end of the first chapter–but not on the first page.

I told her not to let it get to her. But it hurt me, too. She couldn’t “hear” me, despite my many iterations of her past positive comments and near-misses with agents. She was crushed anyway.

I was reminded of that event from a couple of years ago when I got an email recently from a friend. He’d written a novel set in the 70s. He had a strong social media presence, so there’s no hiding his age. “She suggested that if I want to wax nostalgic, I might consider a first-person nonfiction narrative of the 1970s, ‘your own story,’ rather than this,” he lamented. He was hurt because his previous YA manuscript, set in the hippie era of the 1960s, was soundly rejected–with remarks about “that era is overdone,” and “kids want only contemporary stories.” He couldn’t make the novel contemporary; the theme called for the motif he chose. And I thought his manuscript was excellent.

When you get remarks like that, you have gotten an agent’s attention. Most rejection letters from agents don’t make pointed comments. They are too busy. If they write details in a way that let you know it’s a personal reply, that alone should be astonishing.

But he didn’t take it that way.

“That’s it?” he said. “I have to write a contemporary novel or else, I guess,” he said.

That was sad. I’d worked with him on several revisions to really hit the voice, get pivot points in, and draw out emotion. He’d done a masterful job. It was hard for me to see all the rejections he got. I didn’t want to agree with him, that all editors had a big poster in their offices that said, “No 1960s!” or “No 1970s!”

In 2000, I worked for a literary agent. She knew I was a writer but she didn’t do kidlit. That’s why it worked. I was shocked, though, at the number of queries she received. Even the number of manuscripts she agreed to see was mountainous. As the front person, I was startled at the calls–and the desperation. One woman called me crying and screaming after her rejection, which was personal, gentle, and attempted to redirect her to a different genre. I did my best to calm her down but never knew what became of her.

The desperation eventually made me so sad, I left the job. I’ve had rejections, too, but like any position that relates to possible widespread attention, I knew that it’s a rocky road, and to learn to listen and to whom. And to bolster your spirit along the way. If you love it, you’ll stick with it. If you don’t make it, you tried like hell. But if you do give up, you cancelled yourself.

After the agent, I got a job leasing apartments in the big city, no kidding, because it was easy for me to get a real estate license (I’m a good student) and the work was so away from writing.

I’ve called my friend who went to Words in the Woods and informed her that she need not worry about that agent–that particular agent is considered a has-been in the kidlit industry and leeches on writers’ conferences to stay relevant. (I would not say this lightly unless I heard it from a good source. Hey, my blog isn’t the National Enquirer.)

Assuming you’re a person trying the right way, through writing steadily, studying, heavily reading your genre, belonging to SCBWI, doing the work: never worry about those impersonal rejection letters. If I were an agent, I would give one every time for rejections.

Hopes are so fragile–and even a few well-meaning words from a person in a position of power (even if the “power” is not really that much in New York) can be like a road paver going over a butterfly.

So don’t blame the agent. They have to take a step back and self-protect. Self-protection is not just okay–it’s necessary.

The 1000-Page Year

I’m Exhausted and Crabby

Sometimes I think the universe put me in a rural place and made a pandemic just so this could happen. Then I think how narcissistic and inherently dumb that thought truly is.

Then I think one man’s meat is another man’s poison.

Then I think there is no great loss without some small gain. Then I think: is writing 1000 pages just “a small gain”? That’s screwed up.

Now you can tell I’m confused, along with being exhausted and crabby.

In the spring I got laid off from a full-time job. Then the government gave free $1200 checks and an extra $600 a week of unemployment pay.

I thought: I’m supposed to stay home, I’m provided with enough money to live on, and I’ve always wanted a very long stretch of time to write fiction.

Stay Home

Two years earlier, I’d moved to rural North Carolina. We got the only wireless internet available, but it wasn’t great. Downloading a movie took hours. Streaming the greatest new shows was out of the question. And I dislike almost all of “regular” TV that is widely available on our only TV choice: overpriced satellite TV. It’s turned into talent and reality shows and the occasion tries-too-hard sitcom.

There it was, all handed to me like the perfect lyric in a song: stay home and write.

So I stayed home. I made two early trips to the grocery store, spending $750. I stayed home so much it took me three months to go through one tank of gas.

Write

And I wrote. First I decided to revise a novel about a girl who traces her family tree and discovers unusual twists and secrets. The revision went badly, so I rewrote the entire thing from scratch. I let it rest, as I always do before sending something around to agents.

Then I started on my “prairie novel” as I call it—based on a real person, but not Laura Ingalls Wilder. It was so rough I panicked. I still had time before me. Was the writing going to go this slow? I’d never get it done.

Stay Home

I attended SCBWI online webinars with great teachers. I stepped back and instead of pounding the keyboard daily, I thought. A lot.

One key question I always work with is: why am I the person to write this story? It doesn’t mean you’ve had the exact experience you’re writing about. It doesn’t just mean #ownvoices. It means, as its core, what is in your heart that can become a story? Something from the deepest part of you? Something you could defend writing about even if faced with your harshest critic.

Write

A new story, with a male protagonist, sprang forth. Usually I’m a planner. This time I was a pantser. I simply started writing, starting with an 11-year-old boy who loved to arrange the variety of smokes in the “cigarette bowl” as his parents prepared for a 1970s card party. I knew the goal, and even some of the other characters, immediately. But I knew the whole story, and felt “inside” the protagonist.

It poured out at first, then slowed, then slowed even more. I started to feel like I had some weird psychological cramp like “hesitation to complete” or “reluctance to succeed.”

Stay Home

I stepped back and thought. The keyboard went silent again. More details of the story came forth in my head when my fingers were quiet. But more importantly, I better learned how my characters’ actions led to events and how their emotions led to reactions. I outlined the rest, switching from pantser to planner, and wrote it to the finish line.

Write

Then it was back to the prairie novel. In November, the election over and refreshing, and hearing of a nearly-ready vaccine, I pushed to make it a 1000-page year. It seemed that I might go back to a full-time job and not have this chance again, so I thought: if I have three reasonably good manuscripts under my belt, I have a great start.

Keep in mind, I’m not new at this. I’ve written 11 (yes, ELEVEN) middle-grade and young-adult manuscripts. One was published, though an oddball type: a short story collection. I’ve read hundreds of middle-grade books: 50-plus just in 2020.

Stay Home

You could say I’m either stupid for going so long without more publishing success, or intelligently determined for pushing so hard forward. But only recently did I somehow turn myself inside out and stop thinking of story structure and plot progression and character development—and all the other craft-oriented techniques—and work from an origin of something deep in my heart, core to my past, and deeply knowledgeable to me on an emotional level.

That’s harder. I daren’t even tell others how to get to that place. After all, look how long it took me!

Rest

In 2021 surely I will go out to eat a lot, see friends in states throughout the U.S., and vacation in Florida when it’s cold here, and go to in-person groups again, have large holiday gatherings, and have “regular life.”

Right now I’m crabby and exhausted. But I made my goal. This is what I must remember about 2020. I lived. And I wrote.

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Easy & Fun Writers’ Education

A Gift from the Pandemic

First, a list. After the list, why it’s included. Most important: I saved this list for you.

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Yes, I realize the ones at the bottom aren’t #MG books. I just grabbed a stack. My books are everywhere, all over the house.

Kira-Kira – Cynthia Kadohata (2004) 

The Lonely Heart of Maybelle Lane – Kate O’Shaughnessy (2020)  

Holes – Louis Sachar (1998)

Hello from Renn Lake – Michelle Hurwitz (2020)

Ban this Book! – Alan Gratz (2019)

Eliza Bing is (Not) a Big Fat Quitter – Carmella Van Vleet (2015)

You Go First – Erin Entrada Kelly  (2018) 

Small Medium at Large – Joanne Levy (2015)

The Best at It – Maulik Pancholy (2019)

A Place to Belong  by Cynthia Kadohata (2019)

Hope is a Ferris Wheel by Robin Herrera (2014)

The List of Things That Will Not Change – Rebecca Stead (2020)

Stand Up, Yumi Chung  by Jessica Kim (2020)

Pie in the Sky – Remi Lai (2019)

The Honest Truth – Dan Gemeinhart (2015)

Shouting at the Rain – Lynda Mullaly Hunt (2020)

Ruby Holler – Sharon Creech (2012)

She Loves You – Ann Hood (2019)

See You in the Cosmos – Jack Cheng (2018)

Just Under the Clouds – Melissa Sarno (2019)

The Miscalculations of Lightning Girl – Stacy McAnulty (2019)

Front Desk – Kelly Yang (2019)

Ivy Aberdeen’s Letter to the World – Ashley Herring Blake (2019)

One for the Murphys – Lynda Mullaly Hunt (2013)

Laura Ingalls is Ruining My Life – Shelley Tougas (2017)

A Handful of Stars – Cynthia Lord (2015)

For me, the “close down” portion of the pandemic happened Friday, March 13. I began working at home and a week later was laid off. I knew at that moment two things had to happen: (1) I had to stay home; (2) I had always wanted to write middle-grade fiction full-time and now was my chance. 

I checked my list of purchased books I hadn’t read and ordered a bunch of Kindle because I was afraid to go to a bookstore. I made a detailed list, got my mask (I already had some from my work), went to the grocery store and spent $400. It took almost three months to go through a tank of gas, I stayed home so much.

Almost all my reading is middle-grade fiction. In 26 weeks I read 26 #MG books. The only reason this reading list isn’t heroic is because I live in rural mountains now and wifi is at early 2000s level. I can’t stream a thing. Ask me what I’ve watched from Netflix, HBOGo, Amazon Prime and Hulu. Nothing. Nada. That list is blank. I almost feel like I should still have the Prodigy software.

This isn’t to brag. I don’t normally even keep a list of what I read, after I discovered I’ve had this bad habit of collecting way too much narcissistic information. 

The list is here to share this important lesson: when you really read your writing genre, you rapidly advance your education. These are traditionally-published books: big houses, highly-literate agents, deep-knowledge editors. As you read, you see all the things a writer must do: sharpen a character arc; view a relationship in a fisheye lens to deepen it; condense time or stretch it further; build scenes not with what you wrote, but with what you thought.

In the end what you publish with traditional publishers is something that is you. You will sell when you’ve honed your craft, plunged your mind for every last way to portray the characters and scenes, and can honestly answer, “THIS is why I am the best person to tell THIS story.”

You’re already writing. Let the enjoyable act of reading teach you too. Look for the good books in your genre that interest you. Buy them and read them. LOTS of them.

Way Back in the Wayback Machine

Dig Deep & Mine Your Mind

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