Persistence by Paul Greci

A persistent hunter. (photo by Paul Greci)

There are many examples of persistence in nature because persistence is part of survival. But as humans we have choices about persistence that don’t have to do only with survival.

Several years ago I had knee surgery to smooth out a slightly torn meniscus. With physical therapy I managed over time to continue to do long distance running and still run marathons. I’m certainly slower than I was prior to the surgery; but I’ll keep on running if I can because I love it. With age, injury, and wear and tear, it’s inevitable that the human body slows down, breaks down.

One thing I love about writing is that barring any major physical or mental impairments, you can keep improving forever.

My recipe for improvement has one simple ingredient: Persistence.

For me, persistence means:

1. Not wasting whatever amount of time I’ve created in my life to write, i.e. showing up.
2. And, to paraphrase Laurie Halse Anderson: asking how I can make what I’ve written better instead of looking at it and saying this is pretty good.
3. Even after I’ve done many revisions, be willing to do more. (In other words, keep applying point number two from above.)

I’ve heard a couple of successful writers proclaim the following myth: if you don’t have what it takes to write, i.e. talent, you never will. Quit wasting your time.

In contrast, James Scott Bell, in his book, Plot and Structure, referred to this as the Big Lie. He spent several years of his life believing the Big Lie before he realized that he could learn how to write fiction. Now, as you probably know, he’s published over twenty books. 

Needless to say, I agree with James Scott Bell!

What does persistence look like for you?

Paul Greci is the author of Surviving Bear Island, a 2015 Junior Library Guild Selection and a 2016 Scholastic Reading Club Selection.

6 Ways Unicycling Is Like Writing by Jim Hill

My family gave me a unicycle for Father's Day. They might be trying to kill me. Thirty days later, I'm still alive – Ha! – and covered in wisdom. Or maybe those are bruises. Whatever. The point is, I've discovered that learning to ride my one-wheeled-antagonist is a lot like writing a novel. Strap on your helmet and wrist guards, and I'll explain.

Baby. Some assembly required.

A photo posted by @heyjimhill on Jul 6, 2016 at 11:25am PDT

1. It Seems Like a Good Idea at First
Unbridled optimism might be the first sign you could be a writer or a unicyclist. You're sure in your heart-of-hearts that this new undertaking is a great idea, and you can definitely get it done if you work hard enough. This feeling is followed by the realization that...

2. You Have No Idea What You're Doing
Whether saddling up for the first time or staring at the blank screen while the cursor pulses in silent judgment, you quickly realize you're clueless about how to begin. Congratulations! You're on your way! To the emergency room. Or maybe the Newbery Award. I'm just saying prepare yourself for anything at this point, is all.

Gonna need some ice.

A video posted by @heyjimhill on Jul 19, 2016 at 9:07am PDT

3. Research is Key
Write what you know is a cute aphorism, but maybe a bit of a lie. Unicycle what you know is straight-up crazy talk. Research is your friend, the Tom to your Huck, the Martin to your Lewis. I wouldn't even have been able to get on that cyclopean-death-steed if I hadn't googled and YouTubed beforehand. The same can be said about writing. Do I know which fork to use first at a State Dinner, or the melting point of human flesh? No, no I don't. But the internet does. If that fails, your friendly, neighborhood librarian is just an email away. (Raise your hand if you think the NSA has you flagged for some "necessary" search topics. Yup, me too.)

4. It's Hard to Tell Where You're Headed
Plotter or pantser, sometimes you wander off the main road and end up in the garden. Ask yourself, "Is that poison ivy?" and "is anything happening in this scene that moves the plot forward?"

Atop the mono hoop-of-shame, you have to activate your core to stay on course. So, what is the core of your writing? The characters. What do the characters want, what do they need, and what's in their way? When you're face down in the hydrangea, take a moment to check in with your characters, and they'll pull you out of the weeds. (I may have sprained my metaphorical ankle with this one.)

5. Sometimes You Fall on Your [REDACTED]

I'm fine. Really.

A video posted by @heyjimhill on Jul 11, 2016 at 4:44pm PDT

This is the part of Hero's Journey when the hero faces abject failure and almost quits, but then somehow beats the odds to return with the elixir. The elixir, in this instance, being a large bottle of Advil.

Writing has similar, less (physically) painful pitfalls. You will hit them. Good crit partners will be there to ask if you're okay and get you back up and pedaling toward a resolution in no time.

6. Butt In Chair (or Seat)
Yolen's Law gets the job done on the page and on the road. You're not going to get better thinking about writing or riding. You're going to get better by doing them. A novel is a big, intimidating goal. Mastering the single-wheeled-conveyance-of-clowns-and-doom is too. I'm nowhere near joining the circus, but I am better than I was yesterday. So don't sit down to write a novel, sit down to write the next sentence, the next paragraph, and the next scene. You can get a lot accomplished with just two pages a day. Keep track. Celebrate your progress. Jump for joy.

Meanwhile, if you need a unicyclist that's good for about eight to ten feet at a time, I'm available.

Avenger's Assembled! Guess I just named the unicycle.

A video posted by @heyjimhill on Jul 7, 2016 at 3:16pm PDT

Resistance by Joanna Roddy

"Sea captain in storm," illustration by N.C. Wyeth from The Rakish Brigantine

We all know that feeling.

The early morning alarm has gone off...
...or we've just got the kids out the door for school...
...or we've finally made it to our favorite coffee shop and sat down with our favorite cup of warm...
...or we've rented an actual cabin and have finally arrived and settled in...

...and now we're supposed to sit down and write. 

Because we carved out the time and the space and we planned to do it and here we are. We fought tooth and nail for this time. 

But what rises to the surface is the simple mantra that destroys everything we've worked so hard for:

I don't want to. 

Which materializes in the form of checking Facebook, or email, or twitter, just one last time before really getting down to it... 
...or getting a snack...
...or turning off the alarm and promising ourselves we'll put in some time later in the day...
...or wondering what ever made us think renting a cabin would be a good idea and reaching for the nearest book about writing...
...or starting a sewing/cooking/building/organizing/art/charity/garden project that's been lying dormant for months...
...or any number of seemingly worthy distractions that all sound reasonable, but come from the same source: 

Resistance. 

Resistance is almost always there. It's the part of you that wants entertainment, or distraction, or rest instead of doing the hard work required to sit there and put words on the page. Resistance keeps kids from doing their chores, adults from keeping their New Year's resolutions, and dieters from keeping off the weight. And Resistance keeps writers from writing, and creatives from creating.

I've been thinking about Resistance lately because Steven Pressfield in his books DO THE WORK and THE WAR OF ART talks a lot about it. His books read like missives from the front lines, like letters back East from Clint Eastwood on the frontier of the wild west. It's gritty, and real, and wise in the way that old sea captains are wise about the sea, or a hunter is wise about the wolf. Pressfield can describe Resistance with the intimacy of an opponent and the accuracy of a scholar.

Ok, so it's there. But what do you DO about it?

Pressfield puts a lot of stock in outwitting, outmaneuvering, and outlasting Resistance and he has some very salient things to say about how to deal with it. He gets it.

But I've been thinking about how I deal with resistance and I've decided that the most powerful tool I have is the truth. Not my wits or my stubbornness or my blind faith. 

Because once you realize that Resistance exists, and it borrows your voice, and your doubts, and your insecurities, and your vices, and it puts them on like a costume to pretend to be you and manipulate you away from doing the work, the thing that can stop it mid-stride is just this:

That isn't me. 

Because, actually, I do want to do this. I do want to write the book. I just do. And all that other stuff that's telling me how hard it is: that's not me. 

The dance with Resistance is different every day, but when I remember that it's outside of me, and stand on the truth of who I am and what I want, I stop confusing Resistance's voice with my own. And I'm free. 

And I don't have to be a warrior most of the time. I can just be me. 

Write on, writers. You actually do want to do the work. Really, you do.

First Drafts by Joanna Roddy

 *All photos are from my writing residency last week at Fort Worden on the Washington Coast. 
  

This past week I've been holed up in a cabin working on the first draft of a new novel. I've taken writing retreats in the rewriting/editing stages of a project, but not really for drafting. I had thought that the time and space and silence would make the writing process fly by, the way it had for my previous editing efforts, but in fact I've found (surprise, surprise!) that each movement forward on a first draft is just as hard-fought, just as murky, just as slow as it is at home. I just have more time all put together to agonize over it. (Lucky me!)

In all seriousness, I am immensely grateful for this time. This is now my second time working on the first draft of a full-length fiction project and I'm learning a lot that I wanted to share with you.

1. Freedom. Now that I know what an editing process looks like for me, I'm not so hung up on perfecting every aspect of the draft. With my first novel I would get very focused on progressing through the story correctly so that I spent a lot of time hesitating, nit-picking, or completely stalled out. Now, I'm just getting the story down as it occurs to me. I do pause to think through the next sequence or to research a place I intend to use for a setting, but then I try to keep moving forward, step by step. I know that later I'll be deconstructing everything, combining, tightening and expanding, and that it will all be clear when I have the whole, finished story to work with. 

2. Trust. I've learned that the story has a life of its own through my creative subconscious, through my characters, and through themes that arise of their own free will. The only way to learn these things is to write the story down and to see what happens in the process. It's ok if I can't see too far ahead. The story will unfold before me.

3. Respect. I understand where the "crappy first draft" idea comes from and it's so necessary for people like me, who need to know that getting the thing down is more important than getting it perfect. But I also think there's a counterpoint to that idea. Because I need to respect the work I'm doing to be able to trust it. Getting it down and moving forward doesn't mean (for me, at least), rushing it or settling. I need to be fully immersed in the story and I can't do that if I feel like my main goal is just amassing words. I need to simply do my best with what I know right now. But I also can accept the imperfection, trusting that when I know more, I'll do even better on later drafts.

My visual reward chart: 1 sticker = 1000 words

4. Grace. I've tried to sit down and pound out 2000 words before lunch like Stephen King does every day. I've tried to write 5000 words in a day like Laini Taylor did on a retreat she blogged about. What I'm learning is that I'm me and my success can only be measured in my own terms. In five full retreat days so far I've written just under 10,000 words and doubled the size of my manuscript from when I arrived. It's not the 17,000 words in three days I accomplished a year ago during a rewrite, but for a first draft, I'm realizing this is a huge success for me. As long as I keep moving forward, despite the not knowing, despite the inner-resistance, despite the challenge, I'm winning.

I'd SO love to hear what's been helpful for others in the first draft stages. I'm a sponge right now for any good advice and I love hearing other people's processes. Please share! 

Oh, and in solidarity with Laini Taylor, apparently she just took a first draft writing retreat too! Her advice, as always, is golden. 

The MG Novel Hidden in a Christmas Carol by Jim Hill

A disclaimer. The title of this piece is only there to lure you in, to catch your fancy long enough to get to the real point. Gentle reader, consider yourself advised.

‘Tis the season of A Christmas Carol, the ATM of American theater. Production companies large and small trot it out annually, secure in the knowledge that the funds it generates between Thanksgiving and New Years will keep the lights on in April. Dickens crafted a redemption story that predates the felonious Grinch, inspired a thousand variations (I’m looking at you, Magoo), and that has political resonance as timely today as it was in 1843.

I attended Trinity Reps’ current run this past weekend. As always I was caught up in the story, the imaginative staging, and the engaging performances. I was also inspired by the hidden middle grade novel waiting to be told. I mean, it’s just lying there waiting for a clever writer to put pen to paper and breathe life into it.

Which begs the question writers are so often asked: Where do you get your ideas?

If writers were paid a few bucks every time they hear that question they’d have a nice little coffee-shop-annuity.

Before I started writing with intent, the thing I was most afraid of was not having enough ideas. I knew I had one story I wanted to write, but what if I never came up with another one?

Here’s the thing. Once I committed to writing that one story down on paper (okay, screen…) the flood gates opened. Ideas are everywhere, and I had awakened my senses to them. An eighth color was added to the rainbow.

So what happened? I dared to observe the world and ask questions of it. Curiosity kicked down the doors of fear, and gave birth to a thousand mangled metaphors.

Have you thought about that hidden middle grade novel tucked away in a Christmas Carol? I wonder if we’re thinking about the same one.

I took a week long workshop at the Cape Cod Writers Conference with Sara Pennypacker. When asked “the question” she was ready, primed even, with her answer. Ideas are everywhere. She walked us through a trip she took to the grocery store and catalogued a series of ideas triggered by asking a simple question – why?

Why is the wheel on this cart wobbly?
Why is that person only buying candy?
Why did that car come from Ohio to this particular store?

The world is a grocery store stocked with pyramids of cans. Why is the can opener. Fill your cart.

Now that I think about it, there are at least three middle grade stories waiting to hatch out of a Christmas Carol. How’s your list coming?

I just completed Picture Book Idea Month, or PiBoIdMo, and have a brand spanking new list of thirty one ideas ready for some serious writing time in order to turn them into actual stories. One idea a day for the month of November, plus a bonus I couldn’t resist from October 31st.

I was in a bookstore (shocking I know) and overheard this amazing piece of dialogue:

"For once, can't we just live in a castle? We haven't lived in a castle in my WHOLE LIFE. Not one single time.”

Boom. My brain exploded with possibilities. Why would a character say that? To whom are they speaking? What’s the answer?

Ideas are everywhere. But ideas are not books. Yet.

Neil Gaiman has a wonderful essay on this topic. Of course. The bits of genius he doles out have stayed with me. It’s about asking questions, like Sara said, and paying attention to the answers, and following the breadcrumb trail that leads to the next question. And writing it down.

“The Ideas aren't the hard bit. They're a small component of the whole. Creating believable people who do more or less what you tell them to is much harder. And hardest by far is the process of simply sitting down and putting one word after another to construct whatever it is you're trying to build: making it interesting, making it new.”

A Christmas Carol has been around for a long time. Surely I’m not the first writer to see it and ask questions about things hinted or futures made bright. I’m not even going to Google it to see. We’re a community of idea generators, ideas are easy.

Look how far I’ve come. From the fear of never having another idea, to the realization that ideas are easy. Easy like a Sunday morning.

Pay attention. Ask questions. Question the answers. Follow the clues.

Write it down.

Oh. That middle grade novel in a Christmas Carol? I’m not going to tell you. If you get the chance, see the show, read the book, or catch the movie and ask your own questions.

You can thank me in your acknowledgement page.

4 Tools for the Writing Parent by Joanna Roddy

"Mother" -Nikki McClure

Being a parent of young children is all-in, no matter what else you have going on. And it presents special challenges for us creatives who need space and time for our work in addition to bringing home the bacon or taking care of littles. But inciting a rivalry between your children and your creative progeny will only make you feel frustrated and hopelessly divided. A while back I read a post by YA author Laini Taylor about "Writers with Kids" and I liked how she phrased the topic as "Not so much 'kids as obstacle' but 'kids as given.'" 

Making peace between my own work/life balance as a writing parent is something I've been honing for years now, and what seems to work in one season can change with my own creative growth and my family's development. Here are four tools that have helped to ground me and other writers I know in the midst of a life that sometimes feels like it's been reduced to tantrums, skipped naps, and bleary-eyed late night feedings. 

"A writer who waits for ideal conditions under which to work will die without
putting a word on paper." -E.B. White

Get Support:

You can't do it alone. Supportive spouses are a common theme in the Mayhem group and you do need a champion in your corner to keep the faith when you're discouraged and to let you work while they man the wheel at home. One of our Mayhemmers with five kids called a meeting to get everyone's input on whether his writing career was important (the kids agreed it was) and what he could do to stay involved with family life. This gave him clarity on how to be present to his kids' needs when he was with them. Even single parents can find supportive family members or friends who will spend time with the kids while they work. On the flip side, there will always be skeptics of your choice to invest in creative work and it's important not to let their disapproval cripple your efforts. Get your team of advocates and tune out the critics. 

Embrace an unconventional work schedule: 

Time is the giant hurdle for writing parents and there are a million ways to make it work. I have a hands-on husband who looks forward to time with the kids after work. He often gives me one day each weekend to write while he hosts "daddy daycare" with a bunch of his friends. Just last year I also started to get up at 4:00 in the morning to work for a couple of hours before my kids wake up. I'd never done anything like this before and I have found it surprisingly wonderful. It's a commitment that requires a shift to an early bedtime and a new paradigm on evening social commitments. But I was too tired most days by the time the kids were in bed to do much more than watch shows or tinker on the internet, so why not just go to bed and wake up fresh and ready to work? Because there's no way I am going to get up at 4:00 just to read my Facebook feed--I'm getting down to business.   

Other Mayhemmers have done all kinds of crazy schedules, like driving babies all over town till they're asleep and then writing like mad on a laptop in a parking lot until they wake up, or having a spouse with a flexible schedule and taking afternoon writing sessions a few days a week. Some have hired a sitter to give them a few hours of writing once a week (me included), some have written between innings at little league games, and some even have a spouse who works night shifts so there's daytime space for the writer to work. I used to do swaps with other mom friends: I would drop my kids with them for a few hours and go work and then come back and watch their kids and mine for a few hours while they went out and did their own thing. I even know one woman who wrote her entire doctoral dissertation in 15 minute increments. You have to get creative with your time, but where there's a will, there's a way.

Go on retreat:

One of the most helpful things for me has been getting a work weekend away once every few months. There's traction and momentum that comes with long chunks of time without interruption. Last fall I fulfilled a lifelong dream and rented a one-room cabin in the woods, a dedicated writer's refuge on an island in the Puget Sound. I channeled my inner Thoreau, cooked and slept and worked in a sanctuary of silence, and after three days had revised or written more than I had ever done at once in my life. You don't have to splurge on accommodations, though. Wait until a friend is going out of town and offer to housesit or apply to funded writing residencies in your area. 

Learn when to fight and when to flow:

Creative work is hard to choose for and you do have to get fierce about it and fight for it. When you never know the next time you'll get a chance to work, it's easy to become distracted and resentful when caring for your children, but if you can block out and commit to a work schedule of some kind, then you are freed to compartmentalize and be more present to your family when you're with them. It's also important to expect that unforeseen circumstances will sometimes intrude into your work time, especially as you rely on other people to care for your kids. If you can hold onto your own resolve to keep making the time to work, then the setbacks won't feel like failure.

How have you found time to write in the midst of family responsibilities? What other strategies have been helpful to you as a writer with kids? And if you don't have kids, how do you maintain a balance between writing and your other responsibilities? Would love to hear your thoughts!

The Joy is the Writing by Joanna Roddy

Hermione Granger is my alter ego.

I was the girl always raising my hand in class. I was the one who always had the right answer. I may not have been a mini-McGonagall stickler for rules, but I did have the annoying habit of correcting people all the time. I even had frizzy hair. If only I could do magic too.

Thank goodness we all grow up, even Hermione, and I’ve learned to temper those tendencies with some self-control and found an outlet in teaching. Oh, and I bought a flat iron to tame the frizzle.

I would never advise anyone to dumb it down to make other people feel more comfortable (I'm talking to you, girls). But while cleverness and scholarship have their upsides, acting like a bossy know-it-all (It's wing-ARD-ium levi-O-sa) never helped anyone. And needing to always have the right answer has become the single biggest block to my creative life that I've had to overcome.

Just this month, I finished a major rewrite of my novel and I can say something about it that I've never been able to say before: I love my story. It needs editing and polishing, but it feels right in a way it's never felt before.

It’s taken me awhile to get here.

After college I had a shiny new writing degree, but when the time came to write for myself (and not for assignments), I was completely paralyzed. At first I applied to MFA programs, thinking an academic community would develop a writing life for me. And then I started to read everything about writing that I could get my hands on, especially other writers' chronicles of their own insecurities and the writing practices they developed to face them.

It seemed that I was not alone. Everyone feels this monolithic fear about their work. Everyone has to get their butt in the chair and work anyway. And if I could summarize my own fear in one sentence, it was this: I was afraid of not knowing what to write.

I was so comfortable always knowing the right answer that when it came time to create my own right answers, to speak from that solitary authority of the author, I was terrified that I would have nothing to say.

After some attempts at previous projects, which were all non-fiction or historical (safety in facts: research and given plots), I took a leap of faith and started writing a children's fantasy novel, which was what I had always wanted to do. And then I spent a year researching the heck out of relevant mythology and creating an elaborate back history. I was looking for safety in facts again. But little by little I began to let the facts prod my imagination into fictional possibilities.

It took me another three years to finish the novel. Every time I came to a point in the story I couldn't see past, I shut down. I stopped writing. I plotted like crazy. I didn't trust the work itself to show me the way forward.

I've read enough about writing to know that "inspiration likes to find you hard at work." So I would carve out the time, which became a concerted effort after becoming a mom. I showed up at the page. I wrote. But I kept blocking myself with fear. Whenever I didn't know what to write, even if it was just the next word, I escaped to wander the internet, or compare my plotline to the Hero's Journey, or read author blogs. The going was slow.

I have been editing my novel with my agent for the last couple of years and at the beginning I thought, Finally! I have an expert showing me what to do. Right answers in the form of editorial notes. But by the end of my first revision, I was sick of my story and sick of working on it. Right answers were a checklist and the work became a chore.

But something really great happened this time around the editing loop. It was a confluence of things, really, that somehow culminated in my own shift from head knowledge to heart.

First I finally read Stephen King's On Writing this fall. One of the things that really stayed with me is his emphasis on situation-driven writing over plotting. He says to set up an interesting situation and the rest will follow. He also says, "And if you do your job, your characters will come to life and start doing stuff on their own. I know that sounds creepy if you haven't actually experienced it, but it's terrific fun when it happens." I thought, Darn it, I want that to happen to me!

And then I took a 3-day solo writing retreat and I forced myself to write all day, every day. No internet, no people, no activities, just word count goals and lots of chocolate. And something started to happen. I let myself discover the scenes as they unfolded. They took me unexpected places, introduced unexpected characters. It was thrilling!

An author I really love published the final book in her trilogy last month and as I read some interviews she gave about it, I was struck by the realization that her complex, multi-layered series came together as she was writing it. And when you read her work, it's obvious: the writing itself is the pleasure. It's a feast of words. And yet, she was able to create a cohesive, successful whole by trusting and listening to the work as it unfolded.

And that was when the light bulb went off. This thing I've always known cognitively--writing is about writing--sunk into my gut.

Trust the work.

Let it show you the way forward.

Just get your butt in the chair and write.

I'm writing with less fear and a lot more joy, coming to the page excited to see what may unfold instead of terrified that I don't have the right answer.

Imagination by N.C. Wyeth

Writing is a lot more like reading a good book than engineering.

It's the difference between taking a test and going on an adventure. And not only am I thrilled to now know the difference between the two, I feel like I hit the jackpot because the adventure, which is a lot more fun, is the path to a writer's best work. Aren't we lucky?

So, what is your biggest fear when you write? Do you struggle with blocking yourself or needing to have a detailed plan? How have you overcome that? And what are some unexpected discoveries you've made about your project while you were writing it? 

MY JOURNEY (THUS FAR)

Hi. It's me. Tracy. I'm the newest Mayhemer, and I'm honored to be one. I really mean that. Absolutely honored. (And you’ve probably figured out by now that I have trouble writing in complete sentences. Oh well. It is creative writing, right?)  

Since the readers of this site are interested in reading and writing middle grade books, I thought I’d introduce myself and tell you how I came to be here. That is, how I came to be talking to you via a decent internet connection and a backlit screen, one that’s probably too bright and wreaking havoc on your eyes about now. 

When I peruse author sites, read blog posts, and attend conferences, my favorite elements are discovering writers’ journeys. For many people, these journeys offer comfort and hope, and they attempt to make sense of an art/business full of waiting*, close calls, and rejections. And waiting.* And then more waiting.*

So, here is a synopsis of how I came to be talking to you through this bright screen. (Where is that brightness button anyway?)

I started writing my first middle grade novel in 2003. It took me forever. And it was awful. I sent my first query to a literary agent in 2008. It might have been earlier; I sent so many queries that I lost track. Plus, you have to factor in the snail mail queries that I neglected to keep record of. I spent hundreds of dollars on postage! (Thank you, email) 

Anyway, the point is, I was an idiot. I had no idea what I was doing. The book (my book!) wasn't even finished. I hadn't revised it one bit. But I was going to land an agent and a book deal, I was sure of that.

After about a year, when no agent or book deal came, I moped with disappointment. I was a teacher and a writer. I read and taught classics and Newbery winners. The best of the best. Well, as it turns out, teaching an award-winning book doesn't exactly give you the ability to write one. 

Not even close. 

In 2012, I self-published my first middle grade book THE COLOR OF BONES. It sold decently, for a selfy. While I was prepping that book for publication, I wrote another middle grade novel and queried it widely. I received many coveted full requests from agents, but no one pulled the trigger. It was too.... quiet... and not saleable.  

Then, this past January, I sent a last query. No, seriously, a LAST query. I had read a blog post on an agency’s website, and the post was about the state of publishing and where it is headed and why it is headed in that direction, and you know what, that post really spoke to me. So, hey, I looked up which agents repped middle grade and fired off a query to one of them. No postage! Didn’t cost me a thing, except my time and effort!

Seriously. This was my LAST query for this particular book. I had exhausted every agent, except this one. 

Three months later, I was driving to school in the morning. While waiting at a red light, I looked down at my phone. An email. I tapped the screen. It was from the agent. I scanned the message and saw the word representation. And then, the stoplight turned green. 

When I arrived safely in the parking lot (that is a lie), I read the entire message. He said that he loved my book, and he wanted to schedule a phone call to discuss representation.   

Over the last decade, while I was being rejected repeatedly, I've done more than write. I've learned, listened, participated, read hundreds of books, and remained professional through the peaks and valleys of living as a writer. What I'm trying to say is, while I was being rejected, I grew as a writer and as a person. And this growth is now paying off.  

In April, I signed with literary agent John Rudolph of Dystel & Goderich, and now I’m revising my middle grade novel, which will go to editors later this year. Shortly after, I applied for Project Mayhem and was eventually invited to join. And that is how I came to be talking to you through this electronic means of communication. 

And now, I want to know how many rejections you've accumulated during your journey?  Who has me beat? Three hundred.... going once... going twice... 

(Don’t be shy. Here at Project Mayhem, we admire bravery and persistence.)

*Waiting = Thinking about new project. Researching. Planning. Outlining. Plotting. Characterizing. Writing. 

**Basically, waiting = anything but waiting! 

On Persistence and Plowing

I love to hear author's publication stories. Here's mine.

It was 2004. While driving to meet my writing group, I happened to catch an interview on NPR with Adrienne Young, a folksinger just starting out. She talked about her first album, inspired by some advice she’d gotten while struggling to make it as a musician:

If you want to do this with your life, stay focused and see this through. You’ve got to plow to the end of the row, girl.

That simple phrase – plow to the end of the row – was enough to push Adrienne to continue. It became the title of both her album and lead song.

I can’t quite explain what that interview meant to me, hearing an artist choose to create despite the struggle, to push against fear and sensibility and make it “to the end of the row.” I’ve carried this image with me for years, the plant metaphor standing in for artistic endeavor, the plow the unglamorous slog needed to dig deep and make it to the end.

Sometimes I find it funny I’d choose a profession so bent on forcing me to wait, so full of uncertainty and disappointment. An almost foolish optimism kept me working, trusting that the next editor or the next agent or the next story would be the one to launch my career. I’ve haunted mailboxes and inboxes, waiting for something positive to come through. I’ve ceremoniously sent off manuscripts, chanting, “Don’t come back!” (entertaining postal workers, for sure). I’ve journaled again and again “this next editor is a perfect match!”, managing somehow to keep on plowing in midst of little validation.

After twelve years of writing and hundreds of rejections, I sold my first book, May B., a historical verse novel about a girl with her own challenging row to hoe. May’s determination carried me through a rocky publication experience: losing my first editor; the closing of my Random House imprint, Tricycle Press; the weeks when my book was orphaned, with no publishing house to claim it and its future uncertain; the swooping in of Random House imprint, Schwartz and Wade; edit rounds six, seven, and eight with editor number two; and finally, May B.’s birth into the world this January, only three months behind its original release date.

Though each row’s length varies, they’re still mostly lonely, not very straight and loaded with stones. But the soil has gotten better as I’ve worked it, and each little sprout I’ve planted has been stronger than the last. And I keep at it -- plowing, planting, hoping, dreaming -- because I’m made for this. And knowing this is enough to continue, enough for my work to thrive.

Squirrel Wisdom

 A couple of years ago I was in Indiana visiting my parents. I was taking a walk down the middle of a narrow tree-lined street in the neighborhood I grew up in when I heard a loud, splatting noise behind me, like someone had dropped twenty gallons of Jello from the tree-tops onto the road. It was loud, people.

I turned around. And behind me, on the road, was a fox squirrel laying limp. I didn’t have my camera with me but you know what they look like.

well-fed fox squirrel

I glanced upward. The nearest branch was at least thirty feet off the ground. Five seconds earlier and I’d have broken that squirrel’s fall with my head.

Anyway, I was pretty sure it was dead but I was still fascinated. I mean, I’ve seen a squirrel fall out of a tree and land on leaves and spruce needles and then run away, but this was pavement.

So, I took a step toward the motionless squirrel. My brain was a mix of sadness for the squirrel, and researcher for my writing. How did it die? Why did it fall? Poor thing. It looks so healthy otherwise.

I took another step toward the squirrel and it started to shake. I turned to my wife and said. “It’s moving.” Is it in pain? Is it having a seizure? What should I do? Am I going to be faced with the possibility of ending its suffering? If I get too close, will it try to bite me like an abandoned seal pup did years ago?

I took another step toward it and it started moving—slowly—very slowly—like slow motion-slowly, toward the base of the tree it’d fallen from. It looks like all its legs are working. It’s kind of shaky, but it’s walking.

Then it did something amazing. It proceeded to climb the very tree it’d fallen from just forty seconds ago.

A Letter to my 6th Grade Teacher

Dear Mrs. Maki:

You may remember me. When I was in your 6th grade class, I was that girl who read novels during class. The one who didn't care so much about finishing well as finishing fast and would trounce up to your desk with my paper before the others were halfway done, just so I could get back to my story.

Mrs. Maki, I remember you telling us that you didn't care whether our math answer was right or wrong, but that you wanted us to understand the process. I need to confess that I despised that never-ending stack of pages marked "REDO" across the top. I even hid some of them under the class library books so I wouldn't have to keep correcting them until I had gotten every part of the problem right.

Mrs. Maki, wherever you are, THANK YOU. Not only did you give me admirable long-division skills, but you helped me cultivate persistence. I'm not a mathematician; I'm a writer. My road to publication is a meandering one that took me over quite a few "almost" and "just not right for us" speedbumps. When a potential editor was interested in an exclusive revision, I soon discovered that was code for a red-pencilled "REDO" over the top of the manuscript.

The first edit was based on a phone call asking for general changes. Next came a 13 page letter (single-spaced!). The third round was a shorter letter with line edits. Two smaller rounds of revisions later and...we were ready to present my book to the publisher. After they acquired it, it went through four or five more revisions before it was ready to go.

Mrs. Maki, I know other people also taught me persistence. Without your resurrecting math worksheets, I might still have learned that doing something thoroughly is (nearly) as good as doing it fast. Or I might not have learned it, and instead of welcoming the revision process, I might have hidden my manuscript away back when it got its first rejection. So here's a belated thank you to you and to all the 6th grade teachers out there. Maybe it will make up for all the whining you get about math worksheets. In the end, they (really, you) helped me become a better writer.

All the best,

Marissa

P.S. I might as well include a very late apology for that incident with the glue and the watercolors. So very sorry about the wall.

Hey Mayhemers! Have anything you'd like to say to your 6th grade teacher? Or another teacher who influenced you on your writing journey? Comment below!