Finding the Write Rules

Editor Cheryl Kline challenged writers of children's literature to post or at least ponder their guiding lights for writing (on her non-eponymous blog, chavelaque.blogspot.com).  I love a challenge, so here goes!

My Advice to Me, Myself and I

Write because you must.

When I was younger, an actor/director told me there was only one excuse for being in theatre: because you'd be miserable doing anything else.  



Let your characters say what they need to say, how they need to say it.

One of my most recently-met characters insisted on reporting (past) conversations in "scripted" form instead of as bits of quotation-marked dialog.  I let her have her way in this one area, and it must have really given her some confidence, because she's the biggest bossy-pants I've ever written.  If I'd insisted upon quotation marks, I might never have met her.

Don't write down to anybody.

Admit it: you hated this when you were any age.  Your readers are smarter than you.  Get over it.

Write the story you want to read.

It worked for Tolkien, and it really saves on the old book-budget.  Just kidding.  I'd never apply a budget to anything as essential as reading.

Read it out loud to your kids.

Yes, I know there's all kinds of advice out there about not relying on the feedback you get from your sister, your best friend, or the people-who-depend-on-your-goodwill-to-eat.  But if you're writing for kids, read it out loud to your own.  Mine have no problem telling me when I suck.  I guess they know how to make their own food, though.  So, teach your kids to cook.  Then read your stuff to them.

I guess that's about it for now.  (Hint: do a screen capture and then come back in a few minutes/hours/days to see my edits!)

What are your rules for your own writing endeavors? Tweet

Happy Birthday, Bill

Ah, William.  You heart-breaker.  You shameless flirt.  You had me at "the quality of mercy is not strained."  I mean, how's a seven-year-old supposed to resist language like that?  And here's the thing: no one saw it coming.  Mom and Dad figured I wouldn't notice you, probably counted on our age difference as something that would steer me clear of you--maybe even send me down for a nap.

But no.

From the first moment, from, "In sooth, I know not why I am so sad," I was yours heart and soul.  From there it was but a short step to, "for you, I would be trebled twenty times myself."  Ah, me, Will Shakespeare.  You captured my affections before I knew I had any to bestow.

Did you know I tried to give my daughter your birthday?  And when she insisted on being born two days early, I shook my head and asked, "Who will believe thee [fill in the name, fellow bard-o-philes!]?"  Did you hear I middle-named my first-born after you?  Called my second-born after the jolly knight of Twelfth Night? 

You ruined me, Will, for anyone else.  Here's to you--I raise my bumper high and toast this, your 447th year. Tweet