The Risky Business of Writing for Middle Grade

Some years ago I read the following article on CNN and bookmarked it because I found it so intriguing:

http://www.cnn.com/2011/10/19/health/mental-health/teen-brain-impulses/index.html

My favorite line from the article, written by Elizabeth Landau: “Neuroscientists confirm that teenagers do have brains.” Lol—that’s good to know! I know a few parents of teens who have wondered about this from time to time. And even though this article is about how teen brains are more wired for risk than adult brains, and how teen emotion will often win out over logical thinking, I think it’s a good reminder to middle-grade writers, too, that kids think very differently than adults.

One of the great challenges of being a middle-grade writer is getting into the mind of adolescent characters. Adult writers are writing for other adults, but writers of middle-grade are writing for a target audience to which we don’t personally belong. It’s a unique challenge—we have to constantly ask ourselves how a tween would react to a certain situation, how he/she would act when faced with this set of circumstances, what he/she would say to a parent, teacher, or friend during this conversation.

I’m someone who tends to be pretty practically-minded, so this article was a good reminder that some of my tween characters might need to react a little more emotionally to a situation than I might. It also made me think about risks, and about how some of my tween characters would likely be a lot more comfortable taking risks than I do.

A relative of mine likes to tell the story of the time he encountered a small brown bear rooting through a dumpster when his family was camping in a national park. (This was before the days of bear-proof dumpsters.) He was about 12 years old. Now if I was by myself on the outskirts of a campground at twilight and encountered a bear, even a small one, digging through a garbage bin, I would have been out of there faster than you could say, “bear bait.” Instead, his 12-year-old self thought it would be cool to try to get as close to the bear as possible for a good look. So he inched forward and forward, little by little, watching and taking note of the bear’s clumpy brown fur and how its enormous head and tiny ears bobbed up and down as it prodded through garbage with its snout. Only when the bear finally lifted its head, narrowed its beady black eyes, and growled did he decide that maybe it was a good idea to leave, after all.

Personally, I inch away from wild animals with teeth, not toward them, lol. I guess I really do think differently than a 12-year-old. But such things are a good reminder to me that my middle-grade protagonists are not necessarily going to think like me, that they are probably going to be more emotional and less introspective and probably more comfortable with risk than I would be in their situations. Luckily for us, while taking risks might not always be the best course of action in real life, it makes for great storytelling.

What do you do to get into the heads of your middle-grade characters?

-Dawn Lairamore

photo credit: Tambako the Jaguar via photopin cc

The Art of Inconsistency

As writers, we hear a lot about the importance of consistency. A character who is cowardly on page 1 shouldn’t suddenly turn into a reckless daredevil on page 30. Or should he? I personally think there’s a lot to be said for inconsistencies. They’re a wonderful way to add richness and dimension to any character. I think they make characters a little more genuine, too. No one is one hundred percent consistent and predictable in everything they do. Even the nicest person in the world has a bad day once in a while or can encounter a situation that pushes them to a breaking point. This is not necessarily a bad thing. If a nice person is being taken advantage of or treated poorly, then perhaps it’s time they did speak up for themselves. Inconsistencies are a great way for a character to grow.

But yes, you have to use them carefully. If inconsistencies are too wild or extreme, or happen too frequently, they don’t come across as natural. (In fact, your character might just seem a little unstable if you get too carried away.) Even when used judiciously, inconsistencies can still feel a little out of place. I’ve found the best way to deal with that is to address them directly in the narrative:

On any other day, Marvin would have never, ever considered venturing into the old abandoned house on Maple Street—especially on a day like today, with dark clouds gathering on the horizon, a sure sign of a storm blowing in. But Emma and Jesse’s laughter still rang sharply in his ears, and he cringed when he thought of the looks on their faces as Brandon had shoved him to the floor outside the cafeteria that afternoon. Again. Wimp, they’d called him, their singsong voices making it into a kind of chant. Teeny-tiny, little scaredy cat wimp.

I’ll show them, he thought, trembling as he climbed the crumbling stone steps leading up to the crooked door. No kid in town has ever been brave enough to set foot inside the old Stallworthy House.

They said the Stallworthys disappeared so suddenly all those years ago, a teakettle was still whistling on the stove when their housekeeper came back from the market, but the family was never seen again. Nothing, not even the shoes in their closets, had been touched.

Maybe some of their old stuff is still inside the house, thought Marvin. If I can grab something to prove I’d been there—an old photograph in a frame or a knickknack off a shelf—no one would laugh. No, they’d never be able to call me a wimp again.

By acknowledging that your character is acting out of nature and giving a reason for it, you take away the awkwardness.

What do you think of inconsistencies in characterization? And how do you handle them?

-Dawn Lairamore

photo credit: Big Grey Mare via photopin cc