Friday Feedback: Putting Our Writing Fears On (the) Line

This is me.
Sometimes I'm upside down. First of all, TGIF, and welcome to my TeachersWrite! campers! (And hi to my regular readers, who I love and adore. :))

Star Wars and Steinbeck
guide two teens on a journey
to keep a promise
to their dying friend.<--- This is me,

and


this is my book ----------------------------->



and,

THIS

*motions around the place like she's Vanna White*

is Friday Feedback.

Are you ready? Well, good. Buckle up for safety, and let's go!

As Kate Messner and Jen Vincent (Teach Mentor Texts) and I geared up for Kate's Uber-Awesome Virtual Writing Camp, I read a lot about fear. About how scared or intimidated many of you are to put your words -- your creative souls -- out there for all the world to see.

Well, duh, people?! ;)

I'm not going to repeat all the true and wonderful things Kate already said here, except to say I agree wholeheartedly. Each of us is pretty much scared every time we hand a draft off to a friend; every time we submit to our agents; everytime we go out on sub to a publisher. And, don't get me started on waiting for the Kirkus Reviews! Or when our book goes sailing off into the big, cold, cruel world. . .

All I can offer is what my mom used to say to me growing up: "Feel the fear and do it anyway!" (<--- I'm pretty sure that was the title of a book she read, but it helped).

Because if you don't, you're never going to get published, and you're never going to know what it feels like to have your words and your stories out there, to have readers connect and feel moved.

FYI, it feels good! It's worth all the fear and rejection.

And, I remind you of my mantra: "ART IS SUBJECTIVE." Not everyone loves my book (I know, I know, hard to believe. . . ). Not everyone loves my voice. Not everyone gets the story I was trying to tell:

Michelle, if you happen to be here, I love you for this review. No worries. :)
See? :) At least she got some sleep. ;)

But seriously, it's okay . Not everyone loves The Great Gatsby or Hatchett or Harry Potter, either. Yes, that's true. Not everyone loves Harry Potter. And, btw, I've told my writer friends this: if everyone did love my book and my writing, if everyone gushed and there was never a negative review, I would never believe the good ones.

So. Enough of that. Let's get to Friday Feedback!!! ( please click that link and read that post if you don't already know what we do here, and what the rules are).

As some of you know, I recently sold my next YA manuscript to the wonderful Algonquin Books -- a ms currently called "Frankie Sky." Since I'm steeped in revisions for my editor, I thought I'd throw up a section I was working on yesterday. This is the very end of Chapter 7.

As per our rules, feel free to tell me if it hooks you (it's the end of the chapter, so the hope is you'd want to read the next), and what works and/or what doesn't, and why. If you want the same feedback (from me and any readers who may chime in), please post your brief excerpt in the comments as well.


And, fyi, in the weeks to come, there will be some special announcements for my #TeachersWrite crew about a few fun perks and bonuses for participating in Friday Feedback.

So, stay tuned here, or on my facebook author page.

Thanks for being brave.

- gae





My heart races as I walk toward Peter at the door. Did he rat on me? I rehearse the story about Michelle Greenhut in my head. This is all I need, to have to tell Mom what I’m doing here, and why. To explain what I thought Dad was doing.
Peter yells for me again. “Seriously, Schnell, I don’t have all day! You’re wanted inside, pronto!”
I pass Mrs. Merrill’s cabana, second-to-last, the end closest to the rear entrance of the Club. Cabana #2. There’s no sign of life in there. Either I missed her come out, or she’s dead or napping inside. With my mind on Simon, I’d lost all track of watching for her.
When I reach Peter, I don’t like the look on his face. Smug, like he’s happy to see me get hanged. Then again, he’s the one who let me in here. I could take him down, too, if I want to.
“What’s up?” I try not to sound guilty or scared.
 “Search me. I don’t ask questions. You’re wanted inside, is all. Mr. Habberstaad’s office. First door there in the corner.” He waves me through. I walk quickly, not looking back, trying to keep my mind from freaking. “That’s it,” he calls when I reach the dark wood door, gold name plate, black engraved letters. H. Habberstaad. I turn back to Peter. “Just knock,” he says. “He asked for you. And good luck. Dude owns this place, you know.” - gae

p.s. all: I will be in the city Friday evening/night at a screening for the Fat Kid Rules the World movie, book written by one of my YA idols, K.l. Going, then taking my usual Saturday a.m. long swim. So you may not get feedback until later Saturday and Sunday. I promise it will come!