Don't dream it, be it. — Tim Curry in RHPS

Dear Friends,

I am officially a lady of the lake. I am writing to you today from my new space, overlooking Lake Michigan. I have more boxes to open.

Every time I open a box, I am swept into another memory. Another time. Another me. There are my grandmother’s things. There are books from every age. There is the vase my cousin broke. Each box takes me there. Into life. Out of order.

It feels like a scrambled scrapbook. Time travel. I am then. I am now.

With every memory, I look out my windows and I am grateful to be where I am right now. When I first started writing in rural New Hampshire, I couldn’t imagine all the things I would write about. And explore. Let alone where I would live. I’m not just talking about my published stuff. I am talking about every dream. Every poem. Every chapter and story. Each one has shown me something about myself and my world.

This week, we also began to mourn for two artists.

Growing up, I loved Dolly Parton, in part because of sparkles. But later because of philanthropy and sass. Like so many of you, I sang 9 to 5, Jolene, and Mule Skinner Blues. Her voice rang true, even in Bethlehem, PA. But it was Tim Curry and the Rocky Horror Picture Show that I want to write more about today.

I was one of those kids that drove to the theater every Saturday night with my toast and my rice and my costume, the words memorized. I sometimes pretended to be Columbia. And once I put on a wig and did Magenta. I loved it. Not just the dressing up. Or the performing. I loved being part of this phenomena, this wave of energy, this not so subtle dig at establishment. On those Saturday nights, we danced and laughed and didn’t judge. We became other people. We gave ourselves over to absolute pleasure, but really absolute fun.

We didn’t hold back.

I didn’t know then that I would become a writer. (Some days, I still don’t believe it.) But as I unpack and look at the view and think about Tim and Dolly, I am reminded of what it meant to step out of my shoes and become someone else. And at the same time, stay completely myself.

So tonight, one more time, I’m doing the Time Warp. And then I’m going to sing Nine to Five at the top of my lungs. Death, like moving, has a way of bringing us back, giving us memories we may have forgotten. It reminds us who we are. And what we wanted . . . then and now.

Are you ready to stretch?

And unpack some memories?

What was the most important event at the time you were your protagonist’s age? What did it mean to you? How did it change you?? When you think about that event, what emotions are triggered?

Have a great writing week!

xo Sarah

Dear Writers,

How do you define success?

It’s a loaded topic.

At first, success was selling a book. Then it became getting a good review. And then, a star. An audiobook. Things I couldn’t control. Not getting those things sometimes made me so sad, I knew I had to find another way to keep my writing going.

In other words: I couldn’t rely on those things to define my writing.

Now, success has more to do with how I feel when I sit down to write. It’s about the fun of discovery. And choosing projects that interest me. When I have an epiphany, I feel good about my writing. When I discover something new, I pat myself on the back.

But that doesn’t mean that success is flow. Or momentum. It isn’t easy.

Writing is never going to be easy.

But I don’t want “slow” or “stuck” to mean failure either.

Let’s think about why writers block can be so debilitating.

When you’re stuck, writing doesn’t happen. Confident tanks. When we get stuck, we ask if we can do this. We feel bad about ourselves.

Can we change that? Now?

Instead of thinking of STUCK as a sign of defeat, honor this important moment. When you are stuck, it might mean there are choices to weigh. It might also mean that you’ve written yourself into a corner. Or you’re withholding too much. Taking more time to pause and sit in it and think of all the manifestations does not mean you can’t write. It doesn’t make you unsuccessful.

It just means you have some choices. And you aren’t sure.

YET.

Here are some things I do to unlock my curiosity:

When I’m stuck, I ask WHY. Am I trying to protect the character? Am I hiding from what I have to say?

I also ask what if, because asking questions means I have to answer them. So, I keep asking. I ask my characters who they wish was there. Where they want to go. I ask me to show me their surroundings.

When was the first time you were embarrassed?

When was the first time you realized your parents were wrong?

For me, this kind of side writing works. Going to the notebook is always productive. What I write might not go into the manuscript directly as is, but it will open my eyes.

So does changing the point of view—just to see what you’re missing.

When I stay with the problem, I find new doors to open. I see new characters with something to say. I reclaim some fun and stop worrying about product. When I feel more successful, I take more chances, which makes me even happier.

Are you ready to reach?

Go to a place in your story where you are not sure about what comes next. Ask: why did you write this scene? What matters deeply to you? What do you want readers to think?

How many questions can you ask?

If questions aren’t working, pretend you’re someone else. Now, write down five terrible things your character could do next or five ways to ruin your current plot.

Let’s see what happens.

Have a great writing week,

xo Sarah

Hi Writers,

I’m writing today from The Whole Novel Retreat. I couldn’t be more proud of the writers who shared their stories, accepted feedback, and are now participating in workshops, discussions, labs, and meals.

They are taking all the chances. To make their stories stronger.

Over the last two days, we have talked a lot about revision. Raising the stakes. Understanding desire lines. And finding your process. Alicia Williams gave a great talk about using mentor texts to help us understand what editors mean when they say Raise The Stakes.

When we don’t have enough tension, we need to explore desire. And backstory. We need to look for the why. We need to find the right method to reveal what has happened in the past. There is so much to choose from.

For every writer, there are many methods to investigate. It’s important to understand how you like to work. And how you learn to understand the best way for you to revise.

The conversations have been fantastic. There is something magical about coming to a place where everyone wants to talk process, where ideas flow back and forth, where writers can talk freely about the roadblocks they are facing in their stories.

Right away, I found something I’d overlooked.

What do you need to make changes to your story? Do you need to talk? Do you need to outline? Or walk? Take a shower? Do you wait for ideas? Or do you prefer side writing?

There is no one way to get this done. But here is what I can tell you: when you find a safe place to explore your story, you will find answers. Give yourself that gift.

Are you ready to reach?

When we talked about revision, almost all of us talked about day dreaming. Thinking quietly about the world and the world of our story.

So today, spend some time dreaming about your character. Your story. The scenes that help you say what you want to say. Then interview your characters. Ask them how they feel about your story and their role in it. Ask them if there are things you don’t know. Get into that zone. Ask the hard questions.

What do you want? What do you need? What do you fear? What are you willing to do to get what you want?

At Boyd’s Mills, we are all daydreaming, talking, walking, stretching and growing. Today, find a safe moment and space. A safe place for exploration. Go back to the heart of your story. Your character.

You can do this.

Happy Writing,

xo Sarah

Dear Friends,

I am packing:

• For the whole novel retreat.

• For my trip to Cyprus.

• For moving!

YIKES! It is hectic! I have not had a moment to myself! BLAH!

So the theme of the week: what do you need to do your best work? What are the things that help you find your voice and story? What will you be happy to find in a box after going to all the trouble of packing, shipping and opening?

As I envision my new office, I am envisioning the space. Asking myself what I need to do my best work?

Here’s what I’ve got so far:

I surround myself with lots of book art, including original art by Trina, Eric, and Maurice. And my view! (which in my new place will be THE LAKE!)

I like to see my books, too. (When we moved to this apt, we went from 8 bookshelves to 2. Now we are going back up to six.)

Other things:

Family pics and mementoes (mostly pencil holders) from family/friends make me smile. I want to bring back the cork board, now that I have more space. And of course, my Peloton. Sometimes, even five minutes on the bike helps loosen up the inspiration.

And then, there are my notebooks.

For a while now, I’ve been consolidating them. It’s not that hard. The notes I have kept for the last twenty years were covered with the same questions. Mostly: what does your character want?

Do you? Do you keep old notebooks from conferences?

For years, I treated my pile of notebooks like an umbilical cord or a crutch or a security blanket. But these days, I’m looking at them a whole lot less. I don’t need them to know the questions I like to ask. My academic discoveries have been part of my lectures long enough that I don’t need to look back.

But do I toss them?

Do I clear the way for more? Even though I don’t use these notes, it seems scary to let them go.

Are you ready to reach?

First: Congrats to LAURA ROETTIGER! I’m sending you Stef Wade’s THE VERY EAGER EVERGREEN.

Now, a prompt:

Today, when I opened one of my notebooks, I found this quote by John Yorke:

“Silence of the Lambs screenwriter Ted Tally put the art of writing dialogue succinctly: ‘What’s important is not the emotion they’re playing but the emotion they’re trying to conceal.”

And this response: What does concealing say? How do our characters express doubt? Misgivings? Fear?

Take it to the notebook: What is YOUR character concealing? How do they conceal it? What gestures give them away?

Have a great writing week! I’m off to Boyds Mills on Friday—get ready for some MAGIC!

xo Sarah

I know the publishing news has felt dire.

But good things ARE happening.

I signed a new deal. (Official news later.) I’m almost done with my revision. I close at the end of the month, right after Whole Novel. AND I spent the weekend with family. So today, I’m delighted to introduce you to Stef Wade, whose brand new picture book, THE VERY EAGER EVERGREEN, just hit the shelves.

BEST NEWS OF ALL: On Sept 29, you can meet Stef as well as Barbara Lerman-Golomb and Sandra Headen and hear them talk about their brand new books on a new LIVE initiative for Write Here Write Now! If you want to listen, let me know. I’ll send you the link.

Everyone’s invited!

And now… here’s Stef! Would you like a chance to win a copy of The Very Eager Evergreen? Join the conversation!

Dear Writers,

In 2020, my second picture book, THE VERY LAST LEAF, illustrated by Jennifer Davison, released in the middle of the pandemic. I’d been amping up for book launches, story times, and signings and instead, I sent my sweet little story out into the void with nothing but a little online fanfare.

The book follows Lance Cottonwood, the best and brightest in his class, who’s afraid of his final exam, falling from the tree. It sneaky teaches about science and the plant life cycle while tackling issues like anxiety and perfectionism.

Little did I know Lance would touch the hearts of so many in that anxiety ridden time - kids unable to be in class, play with their friends, or practice the sport they love. And year after year, that little leaf has fallen into the hands of kids who need to hear his story.

Fast forward six years, and here I am with Lance’s best friend, Doug Fir’s story, THE VERY EAGER EVERGREEN, illustrated by Erin Taylor. Doug is an evergreen. The winter world is changing all around Doug, but he has to stay the same. He’s eager for a change.

In the story, Doug becomes pen pals with another unexpected evergreen tree who helps him understand is worth, realizing just how important he is to the forest.

While I write these stories for kids, I find myself reflecting and realizing how much they relate to being a writer. The urge to be perfect, the pull of wanting what other writers have, the itch to change everything about the way we write when we feel like our work isn’t being seen.

Writing and publishing is filled with hills and valleys. And while the views at the top of the hills and mountains are always spectacular, we can find beauty in the valleys too. We find it in the hard work, in the rejections, in the imposter syndrome takeover moments, in the writer’s block, and in the time when there is no time to write.

And that’s why we keep going. Because those moments help us grow. They give us grit and courage to keep moving forward. They balance us out, keep us humble, and push us toward success.

When I visit schools to talk about THE VERY LAST LEAF, my biggest take away is for kids to realize this: Being brave doesn’t mean you’re not scared, it means doing hard things even though you’re scared.

Writing is scary. And you are brave. Everything from putting that first word down on paper for only your eyes to see to unleashing a story into the wild. We become the hardy trees that can weather the storms and stand taller after.

And for Doug – well, he teaches us that we are unique and important. The flashiest website or the most promoted book doesn’t make you smaller.

Write YOUR characters. YOUR stories. No one else can do that.

Keep growing your roots, keep supporting your forest, and you will find great worth in your words. And so will others.

Are you ready to reach?

I know I have a story when I know what my character will do when they are stuck in their lowest moment. When the worst thing has happened.

Today, when is your character at that lowest moment? Do you remember a time when YOU felt like all was lost? What did you do next? How did it feel? Then go to your story and write your main character out of that jam. Great characters and people rise to these occasions.

No one is happy all the time. We all deal with hills and valleys. But together, we can emerge. (I really needed that reminder.)

Thank you, Stef!

Have a great writing week!

xo Sarah

Dear Writers,

What a week! I’ve been reading for Whole Novel and I’m deep into a big revision. The move progresses. I’m excited for September, when I’ll be heading to Cyprus for two weeks of rest. Fun. Turtles. (Please. Lots of turtles.)

So yes, I’m thinking (on every level) about new chapters. And what comes next. And the power of choices. When I’m reading like a writer, my focus often goes to the choices the character makes. The choices the writer makes. The choices that mean the most to me—that keep me reading and on the edge of my seat. That’s my goal for this revision—and reimagination. In this draft, I’m in action/reaction logic.

This weekend, I heard Zibby Owens speak about some of these same ideas—in the creative life.

Sometimes it feels like we are always turning the page.

Now…I have never met a door I didn’t want to walk through. I have never avoided an invitation, just because the job looked hard. Rejection is not a good reason to say no.

It’s true for creating story, too. My characters make mistakes! I have learned that choices and crossroads are the best moments to get to know my characters. Those moments and choices give the story juice. Energy. Agency. Dread. They reflect motivation. And heart. When I am reading and a character takes a turn I think is dangerous, I turn the page. And wonder. And think. And hope.

Choices pull me in.

As the group talked about the reading, writing, and the world we are trying to thrive in, the conversation morphed into a discussion about the risks we take in writing and how very important that makes community. I kept thinking about what it feels like to be waiting for feedback and letters, hoping for a chance. All the minefields built into this process of publishing. And yet, we still choose it. With every new story, we take that chance. Maybe this one!

Friends, you really are amazing. Whether you get published or win awards or get stars or write just for yourself, you are doing things that most people only talk about.

This weekend, I also saw St Vincent perform with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. It was amazing and another lesson in story telling. The arrangements were both familiar and surprising. She let go of what we already knew and played with it—which made it sound new and allowed us to hear her lyrics in a slightly new way.

When we make the choice to experiment, we always hear something new. When we play, our voices are not lost by rhythm. Or pace. Or emphasis. They are amplified by our willingness to try. Our stories are better when we are not afraid to reexamine choices, next chapters, and transitions. Authenticity comes from those moments and choices.

Are you ready to reach?

First: a winner: Congratulations, KATE ROSS! You are the winner of Sharon Reiss Baker’s book! Please DM me your address!

Now, a prompt:

What is the ONE THING your main character does not want to do? When must that character HAVE to do it? Look at the choices. What has happened that will affect this choice? Then make it. And see what happens next!

xo Sarah

"You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view... Until you climb inside of his skin and walk around in it." Harper Lee

Dear Writers,

I am a long-time reader myself, and I often revisited Sarah’s articles for their wisdom while working on my recently released YA historical novel, Last Days in Moav. It is a pleasure to be here, writing in a space created by someone who has meant so much to my own development as a writer.

My novel, set during Biblical times, features four sibling narrators, three living and one dead, who alternate telling their family story about loss, betrayal, love, and shaping their destinies. Many people have asked what it was like to write a debut novel with so many narrators. Why four? And how did I keep their voices distinct in my mind as I was writing? (Sarah interjects: I’m doing this now. PLEASE SEND HELP.)

From Two Voices to Three

I did not start the book intending to have four narrators. I intended only two: the main character Milcah and her twin brother Gidon, healers with a gift from Beyond who were both feared and sought after in their community. I was intrigued by the he-said, she-said possibility inside a relationship that was so entwined. They knew each other deeply, but that did not mean they saw the same events the same way.

The third narrator, their younger brother Avidan, arrived well into the drafting process. I had taken my time getting to know him and wanted to try a chapter in his voice, mostly as an exercise for myself. His younger voice offered a contrast to the teen voices, and his point of view could add things that were almost impossible when he was simply the cute sidekick at the edge of the scene.

I completed the first draft with those three narrators. I felt things were off to a good start, but I still struggled with a challenge familiar to all writers of historical novels: how to give the reader historical context without resorting to an info dump. I didn’t want to write a prologue explaining the background; I knew many readers would glaze over and skip it. Then I went on vacation, not intending to work and hoping the break would give me a fresh idea when I returned.

And Then Came Netanel

The idea came two days into my trip in the form of a fourth narrator. My original plan was for Netanel, the dead older brother, to appear only as flashbacks for the twins, his importance emerging through what they remembered. But one morning at 4 a.m., I woke with much of what would become the first chapter fully written in my mind, in Netanel’s voice. I raced to the Airbnb desk to get it down before it disappeared. And when I was done, I thought: hmmm, interesting.

I envisioned him as a rapha, a kind of spirit hovering between the world of the living and the world of the dead. He could provide historical context, go 20,000 feet up, and give us the bird’s-eye view. I thought it was a clever way to write a prologue without writing the dreaded prologue. Problem solved.

But when I got home, a wise mentor stopped me. If you are bringing him in, she told me, you have to bring him in all the way. He cannot just be convenient to you as a storyteller, doing the work that you cannot figure out how to do otherwise.

I resisted. He could be like the Greek chorus! I said. Why not? Sophocles did it. She was not buying it. As a nod to her objection, I decided he could open and close the book. But by the time my mentor got to the end of that new draft, she had almost forgotten the opening chapter. Netanel’s return startled rather than satisfied.

I had to choose: cut him and convey the information some other way, or bring Netanel in as a full character with a real stake in the story. I chose the latter, which required the harder work of learning who he was, why he was there, what he cared about, and how he changed everyone else.

That meant defining the rules of his story world. What could a rapha do? What could he not do? How much could he seeor affect? He could not simply float above the story, available whenever I needed him to explain something. He neededlimits, questions, and a relationship to the people he had left behind.

I also had to decide whether Netanel, who died at age ten though the story takes place eight years later, had grown and changed or remained fixed at that age. I chose growth, in maturity and in scope of vision. Raphas, I decided, could see history’s full sweep, speak directly to the modern reader, and reflect on things beyond the story-present. Netanel’s voice came from those choices, and from his yearning for his siblings and his wish to keep protecting them.

So What Did I Learn?

Looking back, here is the biggest lesson I took from writing multiple narrators: the voice came from knowing the characters deeply, not from tricky devices or verbal tics. Once I understood who they were, I did not have to stop and think, okay, now I am in Netanel’s voice. How does he sound again?

That kind of knowledge is not about random facts, like a character’s favorite ice cream flavor (unless ice cream matters to the story). It is about what they want and need, what stands in their way, and how they move through the world. For Netanel, that meant knowing what it meant to be a rapha; for Avidan, what he could understand as a younger child and what he could not.

Of course, this is also advice for writing any character, narrator or not. But multiple narrators require strategic use. I had to think not only about who each character was, but what each one could know, what each one would notice, and what would happen to the story if that particular character narrated that particular scene.

Sometimes the “wrong” narrator would have given away too much. Sometimes another could have told the scene accurately, but without the same emotional force. The challenge was not just making each voice distinct but choosing which consciousness could best carry each moment.

When I found both the right rhythm and the distinctive narrative voices, the alternating structure began to feel organic and fun. Voice and story worked together, and the characters were simply themselves, telling the parts of the story only they could tell.

Are you ready to reach? What can we learn?

When I have a story question, the characters always have the answer. I just have to get to know them more.

So let’s do that. Interview your characters. Sit back and let them speak. If one is really chatty, reimagine a big scene from their vantage point.

Then take it to the journal: what did you learn about your story? Your protagonist? YOUR POV?

Please thank Sharon for this wonderful essay by joining the conversation for a chance to win a copy of her book! Her AMAZING novel, Last Days in Moav, is on the shelves NOW.

Have a great writing week!

xo Sarah

Dear Writers,

Good morning on this beautiful summer day. Time seems to be flying and the rest of this summer feels stuffed. We will be officially moving at the end of Aug. Whole Novel is underway (I am reading, reading, reading!) And we have a big trip in Sept.

Last week, along with old mementoes and love letters, I found the one and only hard copy of my bachelor’s thesis. It was all about unfulfilled desire in D H Lawrence’s novels. In that writing, I thought a lot about power—who has it? How do we leverage it? What do you do when you don’t have it? I looked for examples—in literature and life—when the power dynamics changed, when the follower became the leader.

I’m still asking a lot of those questions, as both reader and writer.

Who holds power in your story?

When does your character cede power?

AND Who holds power in your writing life?

Like many of you, I love when the underdog figures out their strengths…and soars.

This week, the topic of power came up many times. It came up after sharing some ideas about a new picture book, a take on a story that happened to me in first grade, when the 6th grade crossing guard would not let me cross. (He said: Jews cross last.) In real life, instead of walking the long way, as everyone asked, I was late EVERY DAY.

I tried to turn this into a PB ms. I made the kids animals. The chicken crossing guard said, “Hippos cross last.” I thought it made my point.

Apparently, it didn’t.

One of my friends wondered if my ideas were making my story too simplistic and sweet—if something closer to the real story would resonate more. Later, when I took this challenge to heart, another friend said, “This sounds like a story about power.”

Writers: when I get feedback that’s going to change everything, I always need to take it to the notebook. I need to be quiet as my brain swirls. This isn’t about ego or stubbornness. I am more than happy to reimagine. In fact, I do. Many times. Especially when I get feedback. When a comment stays with me, I try everything. I think of this as pantsing through revision. I need to start asking why…and when…and how much. I ask: what was I so afraid of? And: what do I really want to say? Am I trusting the reader?

I need to play a little before I return to my readers and ask more.

Anyway, these questions were impactful, because YES, at the start of the story, one character holds ALL the power and authority. But in the end, it is the other character that rises up to take back power. I began to think about the books I love through the lens of power. And agency. And how characters use power when they have it. Of course, real life is giving me all kinds of examples of people who have used power for good…and those who have squandered it.

And although I really did love that hippo, I think my friends were right. And I think I found a way to give it an ending that makes the point I want to make now.

So, what do you do when a beta reader asks you something huge, something that nags at you and makes you worry, something that keeps you up? (My Whole Novel writers will be able to answer that soon!!! Remember: feedback is not always this impactful…and you are allowed to reject what doesn’t work for you … and you should always ask questions…especially when it feels disruptive. )

When someone asks me just the right question, or notices something missing in my story, I side write. I draw. I draw on my memories. I think a lot about how we hide and mask our insecurities. I think about what we REALLY have to say. And what my book is REALLY about.

I ask myself: why does this matter to me? Or: why am I hesitating? What am I afraid of? And, of course, what is my character afraid of? And want? I find their lowest moments, when they have no power. I examine what they do right after that.

Taking feedback is not the same thing as losing power. It’s actually an act of agency. And it works great when you are brainstorming. Listening to new ideas and applying them helps us create new layers and depth in our stories. The issue of power is just one layer. When we understand who is holding the power, we can begin to understand what every character wants. We know what they will fight for. AND we can reclaim some power in our writing lives, because we know what we want to say. As I reread the story through the lens of power dynamics, I didn’t just find my focus. I found greater depth. And more relatability.

Characters influence each other. They illuminate each other. They hinder each other. Today, look at those power shifts with new eyes.

Are you ready to reach?

So, today, let’s get to work. Let’s start at your ending. How did your character change? Who are they still friends with? What did they give up? (If you don’t know your ending, don’t worry. You’ll find it.)

Who holds the power at the start of the story? What about the end?

What does power allow that character to do?

What does NOT having power free your characters up for?

(And where are YOU on the power dynamic? Can you speak with your agent and editor/ Do you stand up for yourself when you are right?)

Today in your journal, focus on one character who starts the book holding all the cards. Describe them. Write a journal entry. What are THEY afraid of??? What do they want? What positive and negative situations give them? Does power make it better? Or worse?

Get outside! Summer is too short!

Have a great writing week.

xo Sarah

Zora Neale Hurston

Greetings from Boyds Mills!!! I am here on retreat after a busy week of ALA, The Jane Addams Awards, and moving my mom. It feels good to be here. A place where I find magic. A place where I feel like a writer.

Also: we got the condo! So packing will begin the second I get home. Get ready for some new amazing views.

This week, while packing my mom, I found so many memories. Love letters. From college. Pictures from every phase of life. Art that hung on our walls. Clothes I can’t believe I ever wore. My dad’s book. My dad’s papers. My mother even saved some White Out!

I also got to see old friends, who knew me before I wanted to write, when I was busy making mistakes and finding new ways to get in trouble. Friends who joined me on stage. Friends I don’t need to explain things to.

We are all many things.

We are all made of memories. And relationships. And yearning. Some fulfilled. Some not. Sometimes, it’s painful to think about the past. But when I am stuck, that is where I always go. To the choices. The places where I paused and wondered: what do I actually want?

That stuff can fuel our stories.

I don’t mean that we should always transcribe what happened, word for word. Putting yourself on the page isn’t that easy. My memories do their best work when I tap into the corresponding emotions—when I ask myself why these moments stay with me.

As I read those letters, I remembered what it felt like—in my skin—to be loved. And to give love—for the very first time. I could feel the fear of it all. And the insecurities, too. When we are young, we trust. Then we learn not to always trust. Then we learn when we have to reclaim it.

As I reminisced with friends, I stacked those memories like squares on a game board. I wanted to see if I could create a linear map for my life. (I couldn’t.) But as I tried, I found a lot. I looked at where I was and where I was still headed and found themes. And joy. And heartache. And regrets. And now, as I open my manuscript, I find places to put those emotions and mistakes. I discover new insights into why these characters mean so much to me. And why they feel so real.

Are you ready to reach?

This week, being home, I revisited many places I used to go. Today, think of yourself at the age of your protagonist. Where was your favorite place to go? Not a hiding place. (We’ve done that before.) A place that gave you confidence. Where you felt like your best self. A place you couldn’t wait to visit again.

Describe that place.

Describe why you loved it. And how you got there. Did you go often? Or not?

Remember: what are the most important events that happened in that place? How do those events or emotions or memories fuel what you are writing now?

Have a great writing week!

xo Sarah

(who is actually just a wee bit too busy, but I’ll get there!)

Dear Writers,

What a week! I had a wonderful (too short, too busy) time at the Jane Addams Book Awards and ALA. There’s nothing better than being surrounded by book lovers—including readers, writers, illustrators, editors, agents, and art directors. Everyone talking books! I LOVE IT.

That’s what makes ALA so inspiring! Seeing all of this year’s books in one place also teaches you a lot about the state of the industry. At the booths, I saw a lot of shorter books. A lot of great picture books. More humor than I remember in the past. The energy was productive and exciting. Lots of anticipation and mutual respect in the air.

Plus, my new bag that says Make America Read Again is going to attract a lot of smiles.

But now that it’s over, you know what that means: back to work. And for me, that has meant character. In my revision, I am going from third person to first person for one of my POV characters. And it is showing me a lot. Mostly that my character is not completely the rule follower I thought she was. She has a lot of opinions. And some of them clash.

What do you do when you realize your character is part of the problem? That she is getting in the way of her own journey? That she has more than one want and that some of them contradict?

Dig deeper! Side writing, here I come!

This character is now offering the story (and me) a bigger range of interests, emotions, desires, and beliefs. She wants to be cooperative. But she’s also got an ego. And when it comes to right and wrong, she is more stubborn than I realized. (Don’t we all want things that don’t always work together?) This past week, as I figured this out, I also saw a bigger need. For validation. For respect. Some of her wants reflect that need. Some don’t. It’s been fun to figure out the puzzle of what makes her tic.

This is what makes story rich.

This is what makes your characters REAL.

Remember the Velveteen Rabbit? You have to love them til they’re raw!

If you are seeing that your characters have competitive wants, what do you do? For me, I’m prioritizing them. I am making scenes where those two wants clash. I am pushing my character to choose. And that may not ALWAYS be making her more likable, but it is making her a lot more interesting. And THAT is how the best characters and stories get made.

Are you ready to stretch?

Write down ALL the things your characters want. Even the little stuff. Even the stuff that might make your character seem a little less likable.

Draw your MAIN story arc.

Where do those secondary wants pop up? Where do characters fight with themselves? With others? Explore secondary desires for SUBPLOT. When I’m not sure, I write the scene in a different character’s POV. With every revision, I want to make sure I’m fully taking into account what everyone is grappling with.

Have a great writing week!

xo Sarah

Dear Friends,

Most of the writers I know agree that positive feedback and encouragement are way more important than shooting down the writer. Most of us have gotten rid of the gag rule. We know that the writer’s voice is essential in the workshop. I am feeling great after getting some AMAZING feedback on my WIP. Feedback should give us wings. It should give us confidence. New ideas. New questions to answer.

As critiquers, our job is to get the best from the writer. It’s to see the potential of the work. And the heart of the writer. Our job is not to squash that heart. Not just show off how much we know about story!

Well, this weekend, I attended a conference, and now I am doubling down on my beliefs. The lectures were interesting. The panelists shared a lot. Of course, there was talk about how hard publishing is right now (yes we know) and how important it is to not give up. (Persistence is the key.) But the first page panel was organized in a way that made me very sad. It showed me just how dangerous it is to offer only negative assessments.

The panelists were instructed to raise their hand when they would stop reading. If three people raised their hands, the reader stopped reading. Then they explained what they didn’t like.

From the second this began, I felt sick to my stomach. There had been no communication about this format. I imagined that most of the submissions were works in progress. Writers bravely asking for help.

Now, I know what some of you might be thinking: this kind of knowledge can be useful. But you know what would have been more useful? If the panelists had had the chance to say what they admired. OR if the reader had read the whole thing and they discussed where they’d stop reading. Focusing on what didn’t work was depressing. At least one writer had to be crushed when the panelists raised their hands after only one sentence.

(It got so bad that one of the panelists shared some great published writing, just to prove that they liked something!)

As I prepare for this year’s Whole Novel Retreat, I am thinking nonstop about feedback and discussion that inspires better writing. I am thinking about how our retreat will help them take chances and changes that excite them. And motivate them. AND serve the story.

In my opinion, that can ONLY be achieved if writers know what is working. Encouragement is essential at every step in the process. Confidence grows when we know what works. At The Whole Novel, we specialize in helping writers find their strengths and thrive.

Asking the professionals to raise their hands felt unnecessarily mean. This is not how we learn best. This will never be how writers thrive.

We all know: publishing has never been tougher.

We all know: we have to work hard to perfect our stories.

We all know: we have to listen to feedback, reimagine and revise.

But we also should know that the best critiques are the ones that challenge us and show us the path to success. The best critiques don’t just demand. They listen. They consider what the writer has to say. They consider what the writer loves about their story. They don’t lecture. They discuss.

Are you ready to reach?

Open a chapter or spread that you have questions about.

First frame it: what does this chapter accomplish? What is its job in the service to the story?

There are a lot of ways to evaluate a chapter or spread, but today I want to get to the sentence level.

How many of your sentences look the same? Subject then verb? How often are you using TO BE? Or helper verbs that distance your reader? (Like I thought I was….)

Today, look at these sentences. Work to add strong verbs. And interesting nouns. Can you surprise the reader? What is your POV character feeling and thinking and doing? Do these verbs and nouns reveal voice and intention?

Make your writing more active and give your characters more agency!

Have a great writing week! ALA is coming! Who am I going to see?

xo Sarah

Friends,

It seems impossible that we have lost our beloved Jane. She was a book mom to so many of us. A cheerleader. An inspiration. A leader. She said “I think picture books should stretch children. I think they should be full of wonderful, amazing words.”

For so many of us, she was also our teacher.

Trust me when I say that there is no label more important, more impactful, more respectful than teacher. There is nothing more honorable than helping others achieve their dreams. From the moment I met her, I knew I wanted to live my life this way, too. I saw how she carried herself in this kid lit world, and I thought: that this was the way I want to live. And I’ve been striving to do that ever since.

So today, my heart goes out to Heidi and the entire Stemple family. Losing a parent is earth shattering. It can be a little overwhelming when you share your parent with the world, as I did with my dad, so I know. I hope that all the pictures and memories people are sharing online give Jane’s family peace. And pride. And joy.

Here’s mine:

Jane was one of the first professionals to read my work. It was at my first New England SCBWI conference. I was volunteering, so I got my choice of reader. Someone (I don’t remember who) told me to choose Jane over an editor. They told me I would learn more in that 15 minutes than I could imagine.

That person was right.

What I learned from Jane that day (and on many other days, too many to count): Books are a conversation, and my words were making her think. And that I should keep going! So, she gave me confidence, when let me tell you, I needed it. She told me what she hoped would happen in the book I was writing. And it wan’t what was going to happen . . . and that made me think. She showed me which sentences shined. And that was it! Later, she found me to ask about my leather skirt, which she thought would look great on Heidi). Heidi, I know you know this, but your mom was always thinking about you.

Over the years, our paths crossed many times. At conferences. Retreats. Dinners. Friends, we don’t expect the people we admire to remember us, but Jane always did. No matter what was going on, she talked to everyone like peers. Colleague. She was always interested in what others were doing. No matter what else was going on, she always seemed open to talking deeply about the craft (and I'm sure there were times when she just wanted to retreat and write...but she never said no. At least, not to anyone I know.)

In her writing and teaching, Jane showed me that in my stories, the impossible is possible—as long as we are willing to work. She showed me that everyone gets rejected. That we win and lose, almost simultaneously. And that everyone has a shot. She showed me that the process is the point. And every day, I strive to prove her right.

My playbook came from hers:

To keep going.
Take chances.
Enjoy every second.
Help others along the way.

(My dad lived this way, too.)

One of the most exciting moments of my writing life was giving a keynote with her in the front row. Smiling at me. Cheering me on. When I told my parents about my speech, I pointed to this picture and said, “And I said all of that in front of Jane Freaking Yolen.”

And then I got back to work.

Are you ready to reach?

Have you read Jane’s Alphabetics? If you haven’t, it’s delightful.

Here is A:

A is for architecture

A few years ago my youngest son, Jason, built a house in the
mountains of Colorado. He was ready to start in late summer,
but because of the paper work involved, as well as permission
from the town’s zoning committee, the building inspector, the
planning board and a dozen others, he could not begin building
until November. By then the ground was frozen hard and in order
to dig a foundation, Jason had to rent heaters and blowers to
warm it up enough so that the bulldozer could do its work properly.
And by then, of course, it had begun to snow.

Writing a story is a great deal like building
a house. There is all that paper work before you even begin,
which is akin to the architect’s plans. Notes. Research. The
jotting down of ideas. The puzzling through the wastebasket of
the mind. But the most important beginning step is still warming
things up at ground level so you can erect your story over that
important foundation–the theme. For that is what theme really
is–the sub-basement of whatever tale the author planning to
tell.

Of course a story does not necessarily begin
with the impulse to basement! But then, neither does building
a house. Jason didn’t say “I have a desire for a basement.”
First he fell in love with a part of Colorado: the way the mountains
embraced the valley, the clarity of the mountain air, the spread
of stars on a winter’s night, the snow-capped peaks, the ski
runs down Crested Butte, the high meadows where big horn sheep
graze. He wasn’t thinking basement. He was thinking home.

But just as his modern wood and glass house
does not look like his sister’s cozy Cape Cod style Myrtle Beach
house or his brother’s 1930s Minneapolis three story house, or
his parents’ rambling Victorian farmhouse, so too there are many
architectures in story.
As Karen Cushman has said: “I want to remake the world; anything
less is not worth the trouble.” She is a story architect
of note, so listen to her words if not to mine.

Today, draw the blueprints for your house. Your book. Whatever you are working on. Make a list of the materials you need. Write down your vision. And your basement—what you want to say. And don’t forget the characters that will help you build . . . and live in this house. (Like the championship Knicks!!! They did it! Together!) In our world right now, we are stronger together. We all have a role.

In this week’s virtual retreat, we tried writing ten first sentences—and seeing which one gets a second. If your house feels a little wobbly, this might help you find your footing. (It really made a difference for me.)

May Jane’s memory always be for a blessing.

Have a wonderful week.

xo Sarah

Dear Writers,

Let’s go Knicks!

Writing might technically be a mostly solitary activity, but we know that no book gets created alone. We need our peers. Our agents and editors. And of course, our readers. I grew up with the motto “teamwork makes the dream work.” I believe in brainstorming, workshop, and feedback. Which is one reason why this New York Knicks team has me cheering. I am really enjoying the sense of unity, excitement, and purpose—on and off the court. They’re easy to cheer for, because the team is playing together. They are playing with confidence and purpose. Because they never give up on each other. I’m also enjoying seeing all the former Knicks in the stands. So many of the names I grew up cheering for, including Clyde Frazier (who is still bringing the swagger), Bill Bradley, Patrick Ewing, and Earl the Pearl Monroe. My dad’s favorite player ever was Willis Reed. I’ve been imagining Marty Glickman (the subject of my next PB and the radio voice of New York sports…for years) calling these games.

Why Dad admired Reed: he played hurt. He put the team first.

So I know he would love (as much as I did) what Karl Anthony Towns told Jalen Brunson: “You’re never by yourself.” Isn’t that the best thing to hear? Being part of a team ALWAYS feels better than working alone. Especially when you’re having a bad day?

Honestly, don’t we all need this, too? Especially now????

I was thinking about how I felt when Covid started closing things down. I called myself an extrovert in exile. I couldn’t imagine being alone. Now, we’re all more used to it, aren’t we? We have accepted seeing people less. We work hybrid jobs. Lots of conferences aren’t coming back.

I wish this wasn’t okay.

I don’t know about you, but I do so much better when I am not always by myself.

I heard that over and over again at the Tony Awards last night, while they entertained us with some great numbers. (I was lucky to see a lot of the winning productions this year. It was a real privilege!) Last night, I loved hearing veteran actors thanking voice coaches, babysitters, casts, and directors. No one does great work all by themselves. I am grateful to my friends for sticking with me, for riding the ups and downs of the writing life. Our conversations make the difference. If you want a good cry, listen to Leslie Odom singing this! I dare you not to feel the heart of that song!

Our words have power!

I’ve written before about group zoom sprints and“Write here write now.” Working together is definitely helping me get things done and feel more confident. Retreats and classes have never been optional for me, but now I’m actively looking for chances to get out of the house and meet other writers. This teamwork feels mandatory. Working side by side with other writers is what helps me try new things.

Are you ready to stretch?

Who is part of your main character’s team? Who is cheering for your character? Helping them get what they want?

Are they family? Friends? Teachers or classmates? How long have they known each other? Do they share a backstory?

If you can come to this Saturday’s Virtual Retreat, you will hear me talking about all the ways that the origin story imposes itself on the story. Today, explore that origin story. Who was there? Why do these characters stay together? Are they a team like the Knicks? If not, why not?

Here’s the info:

Have a great writing week!

xo Sarah

Dear Writers,

Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit! It’s been a busy week! And it’s going to be an even busier month. If you are coming to ALA, let me know!

The big news: My husband and I are looking for a new home in Chicago. But with a little more space. Renting has been fun, but we love it here, and we’re not going anywhere. So, in between writing and reading and everything else, I am looking at condos. Thinking about what makes a home.

The people, of course. Every new home has been built from the last. We fill our home with art, books, memories, and space to welcome all. I am looking at places with gathering in mind.

That’s why a table has always been a most important piece of furniture. A place to sit and talk. A place to eat and share. A place to be with family and friends.

Also a place to write. And read. And rest. And feel safe. Think about what you keep near you when you are writing. Is there something that gives you confidence? Do you make a mood board? Sticky notes? Favorite pieces of book art? All of the above?

When we make a home, we need lots of things. We also collect memories.

Looking at homes—often without furniture—requires imagination, dreaming, and hope—just like writing a book. Also determination. Also (already) disappointment. And like submitting, it’s like a dating app. Photography sometimes is better than the real thing. SIGH!

It’s also fun. I enjoy picturing myself in different places. I will probably never get a view like the one I have now. But I’d like a better kitchen. And a little more space. I don’t want to ever own a car again. So I need to walk to a grocery. Can I have food delivered? Sure. But I can’t give up the farmer’s market. Luckily, I’m not in a rush.

In stories, home is essential. Home can be a source of safety. Or of tension and fear. It can be suffocating. Or expansive. Where your characters live speaks to your character’s family—from the parents’ jobs to what kind of school they attend to economics to where they play. Home says so much about our characters. Are they in a city, where they can be anonymous? Or a small town, where everyone knows everything about them?

Growing up, did you like your home? (I couldn’t wait to leave mine! It was so obvious that my dad turned my room into his office before the second week of class was over!)

Did you have a room of your own? A place in the neighborhood where good or bad things happened? Did you walk to school? Or take the bus? What businesses did you visit? I went to an ice cream store. And also a pharmacy with a soda fountain. And an Izod outlet! When I picture my home, I find it easy to get back into the eye of my young protagonist.

Are you ready to stretch????

When you were young, was there a place that made you feel like YOU? Write a letter to that place. Discuss how it changed YOU…and imagine how it changed over time. Is it still there? Make a list of all the things that happened there and the emotions you experienced. How did this place reflect the kid you were? And the writer you became?

Have a great writing week!

xo Sarah

Isabel Behncke

Dear Writers,

This week I have been on the road! I visited some amazing students and teachers at the St. Martin de Porres Marianist School in Uniondale, NY. Hung out with writer friends. Went on retreat with my JUST DO IT cohort at Boyds Mills. Also, I DROVE. A car. And now I’m off to spend time with family.

This went too fast! (Also: if you need accountability, community, and a regular prompt to PLAY, this is what our zooming subscription service is all about. We include sprints, conversations, and brainstorming….so if you are interested, just ASK!!!! Because these writers!!! WOW.

Bottom line: I am INSPIRED.

Let’s talk about the kids first. The 4th and 5th graders who wrote with me left me richer than I have ever felt before. We talked about science, art, Rube, biographies, and then they wrote their own stories and shared.

What I heard in their readings confirmed my belief in play. In writing without expectations. About listening to our own hearts and preferences. These kids were curious. They were also willing to take chances. That’s something all of us should be doing.

Together, we made a list of story elements that they had to include, but otherwise, there were no rules. The kids cheered. They wrote. We all had a blast.

One student wrote diary entries.

One student wrote their whole story in dialogue alone.

Some used one point of view.

Some used many.

Some wrote poetry.

Some drew. Some drew graphic novels.

This, my friends, is what we do, too. Every day. When we delight ourselves, we find new ideas. And new characters. And great lines. When we stop thinking about expectations and writing perfectly, we don’t mind trying a new way to create a story.

I saw that this week at Boyds Mills. I saw it with the writers in my GET TO KNOW YOUR CHARACTERS class. Both groups of writers came together to support each other and take the next steps to finish their work. This is not magic. It’s what happens when people trust each other. THAT is the foundation of our communities.

This week, I started something new. That always feels exciting. It feels alive. I am getting to know this character. I am going to push myself to take big chances.

This week was another reminder that when we stand together—when we write with joy and freedom—when we embrace STORY and WHAT IF and we meet ourselves where we are and do the best we can—we all create all kinds of amazing stories, from meaningful, funny, scary, to heartfelt. There is no one formula. No one definition of GOOD. No one process. No one reader. No one path.

Find your path.

Find your people.

Believe in what you are doing.

This week, connections and conversations buoyed me. The writers I met and spent time with helped bring my ideas into the light and that jazzes me up. And the stories I heard this week . . . wow. I know all of you will be reading a lot of them in the future.

Do you want to play???

Today, look at the main secondary characters that have joined your protagonist on their journey.

What are their aliases?

What are their main occupations?

What advice would THEY give your main character?

And have a great week!

xo Sarah

Dear Friends,

I LOVE commencement addresses. Advice. Wisdom. The thoughts someone of interest thinks might help others succeed and be happy. It is a most exciting and generous moment. There are great stories in commencements. A moment to look forward and back. To say both thank you and let’s go!

My address takes me back to 2014.

The Whole Novel retreat was about to start. I was about to lecture. To motivate others. But first, my phone rang. I took it, because I was waiting for news. Acquisition news. And that day, what I got wasn’t the fun news. Even though they loved the book, the editors didn’t want to publish the book. Even worse, my agent asked me to put the manuscript in a drawer. We had given this story our best. It was time to move on.

I’m going to guess that we all know what NO feels like. And as positive a spin as we can give it, we all know that NO is hard to hear. No hurts. No makes us question ourselves. When we are in the midst of failure, we do not always see the upside. It is hard to move forward when you don’t feel seen. Or heard. Or appreciated. It’s easy to feel completely out of control.

It’s the same thing I told my patients when I was a physical therapist:

Sometimes, we have to accept limitations. Sometimes, we have to hit the floor before we understand what it takes to walk. Sometimes we have to accept the unexpected.

(Note: Oh, it is SO EASY to give other people advice! It is harder to put your own advice to the test. But I had to do it.)

The first thing was obvious. I put that novel away. Then I asked myself some really tough questions: When was the last time you felt excited about your work? When was the last time you felt like you had a great idea? When was the last time you felt like you were writing for yourself? When you weren’t worried about what others would think? When was the last time you felt like you were being true to your heart?

And the biggest question of all: Why did I expect myself to sell a novel every other year? Why did I feel like such a failure? When did I become so engaged with my ego?

The answer came from my first editor Deborah Brodie. She said, “Eat dessert first.” And when I didn’t understand what she was talking about, she added, “Sarah! Write what makes you happy.”

That I could do. So, I gave my lecture. I took a walk. I made myself a challenge. I was going to immerse myself in the creative life. For the next six months, I was going to PLAY. Like David Bowie.

Just like David Bowie, who wrote not just songs but stories, painted, and made music, I was going to do it all! I was going to work on all the things that made me happy, books I had convinced myself I couldn’t/shouldn’t write: picture books, humor, essays, an adult novel, poetry, and most important, that peach sorbet: a chapter book about a very bad fairy godmother. I was going to write fast. I was not going to edit myself.

I had one rule and one rule only: I was going to write without expectations. Without worrying about the market. I was going to have a good time. I was not going to worry about winning. Or losing. Or selling. All that was behind me.

I was going to play.

Friends, it was a turning point. A moment of self-awareness. HERE ARE SOME OF THE THINGS I discovered.

Inspiration doesn’t find you when you are checking Facebook. Or feeling crappy about yourself. Or looking at pictures on Twitter that do not include you. It doesn’t find you when you are rewriting Chapter One for the fiftieth time, because you’ve told yourself you can’t move forward until it’s right. It doesn’t find you if you are thinking about the award you didn’t win. Or the raise you didn’t get. Or the party you weren’t invited to.

It finds you when you are practicing. Like Van Gogh, who loved to draw and paint long before he considered becoming a painter, who experimented with color and texture. He admired other artists and continued to practice, borrowing ideas and then making them his own.

It finds you when you listen. When you put away your phone.

It finds you when you are practicing with discipline. When you are driven by curiosity, receptivity (or empathy), passion and immediacy, when you are vested in the how. Not the what.

Over those six months, I found lots of inspiration in walks in front of Lake Michigan. And poetry. And art. I found an idea while cooking and singing to Carole King Tapestry. And reading. And writing words on paper even if they were not good words or fancy words or words that anyone else will see. Or even just a list. In talking to others with an open mind.

I found that my sense of accomplishment could rely on what I could control. The writing.

This is the truth: When expectations rule our lives, we set ourselves up for disappointment. We open the door to fear. We listen to fear. We let fear drive our creativity. And that, my friends, is not the game I want to play.

Have any of you tried to do something totally new? Like play an instrument? Or take up a new practice? To explore . . . for fun?

In Free Play, Steven Nachmanovitch talks about just this. He analyzes what it is like to play the violin. When playing: both hands are busy. No note comes out the same way—there’s no rule for what a B HAS to sound like. Playing it is empirical. It is not a matter of theory or learning the right way to play, but of doing by doing and discovery by experiment.

He writes: “The harder we press on a violin string, the less we can feel it. The louder we play, the less we hear. . . . If I ‘try’ to play, I fail; if I race, I trip. The only road to strength is vulnerability.”

That’s how I’m moving forward. (And for what it’s worth, rejection is not the worst thing in the world after all. That 2014 rejection gave me the pass to do more. And be vulnerable. Other rejections have shown me that I can do even more . . . when I care less about the outcome and more about the fun and adventure of getting there.

Looking ahead? Summer is coming. The air is warm. You may be wrapping up your school year. Maybe this is YOUR time. Maybe it’s your time to play with your kids. Either way, go get it. Taking chances is scary. Taking chances can also be exhilarating. But one thing doesn’t change: creating a story takes guts. And grit. And determination—more than talent.

That it is ultimately the only way I know how to do this work. To keep going. To create something from nothing. To make characters real. To write to delight myself. To tell a story that matters.

It is a really proud pursuit, made harder by our distracting, difficult world. But you, my friends, are up to that. Right? As you look toward summer, ask: what do you want to do? What have you been waiting to do?

Wait no longer.

You wanna play, too????

John Hendrix, the creator of Drawing Magic, commented about the inability of adults to play: “a weird thing happens when artists grow older: “We stop having fun. As a kid you draw without any thought to enjoying it. Enjoying it is assumed! Then we get to art school and learn there is a right way and wrong way to make images. We must all learn how to craft light, space, composition, form, line and shape. But, then after that, we have to be trained to learn to play again.”

Today, your challenge is to add FUN to your tool box. Do your prompt on big paper. Or with paints. Or crayons. Draw a picture of your most notorious, confident self.

Then write:

What is the worst thing you’ve ever done, and never been caught? Write your confession!

Have a great writing week!

xo Sarah

“There are no weak artists. Not for long.”--Tennessee Williams

Dear Writers,

Happy Mother’s Day—what my kids call “the holiest day of the year.” What they will also tell you: before you kill that mom in your book, remember that nobody creates more conflict and tension than a well meaning mother. (Thanks, y’all!) But seriously, being a mom led me to being a writer. (This tree grew FROM the apples.) It led me to see my role in this world—as a helper.

Which really hit home this week…because we’re all talking about one thing. Crud. (Yeah, I’m going there.)

Like so many of you, I first learned about “crud gate” after a day where I reworked a 600 word ms for the millionth time….deleted five scam emails promising my books the world…and talked with some writers about their works in progress—their hearts on the page.

Just trying to put the best words on the page. Not for fame. Not for tons of money. For kids. To tell KIDS a story.

I was first shocked . . . then dismayed . . . then really let down . . . and that didn’t lessen once I’d read a lot more of the book. It makes me queasy seeing a writer dissing other writers. (As if it isn’t hard enough!) I also don’t think he’s going to suffer. So let’s not worry about that.

Here’s what I want to say:

his glib statements are not facts. They are not close to facts. If you thought they were funny, I didn’t. Because I love our community and I want it to continue to thrive. And grow more inclusive. Not less. And I don’t like it when the people at the top look down at the people who are still clawing their way to be seen and heard.

The top is luck.

He wrote those words from a position of privilege and power and authority. He is our National Ambassador. He has a platform. His words will reach people. His honor is being monetized. Because of his position, his words will be noticed. And validated. And repeated as truth. They will no doubt be fuel for book banners. His book will be everywhere.

It’s deflating. And sad.

The national ambassadorship is NOT a prize. It’s a responsibility. A job. It is not a chance to boost yourself and your friends (who do not need that boost). I hope he will rethink what he’s doing with his opportunity. Because right now, he’s wasting it.

Here’s the silver lining:

This week, I read discourse about privilege. And community. Diverse books. And the opportunity to be creative at a very difficult time. I read writers and illustrators standing up for each other in the most beautiful and empowering way. Defending the craft. Our words. Our books. There was humor, too.

And a bottom line: Every day, we can we help and lift up each other.

This newsletter has always been, first and foremost, about community. About reaching, about getting out of our comfort zones, and trying everything. About PLAY. And the creative life. Which is a very different thing from the business of publishing, which we all understand is not a level playing field. And lucky for the world, that doesn’t stop any of us.

I appreciate and honor the many people who posted this week.

Mac came to this ambassadorship at a time when our industry needed a leader. To help us stand up to book bans. And help with book deserts. And putting books in kids hands. (I was grateful that all the past ambassadors made a statement.) If he had only taken a few moments and looked around, he would have seen all the effort this community makes every day. He wouldn’t have disparaged books that didn’t get the push his did.

He would have known that even if your book is loved by ONLY ONE reader, it is a gift.

More Tennessee Williams:

The world is violent and mercurial--it will have its way with you. We are saved only by love--love for each other and the love that we pour into the art we feel compelled to share: being a parent; being a writer; being a painter; being a friend. We live in a perpetually burning building, and what we must save from it, all the time, is love.

Love, yes. Love over ego. Love over ambition. I know you are with me on this. I am not saying anything new.

You want a punch line? As all this was happening, I also got this email that might put it all in perspective::

Dear Sarah Aronson,

I found your book, Believe, in the dust bin. I read it and it was good. You are a prophet.

I’m saving this one. THE DUST BIN.

By the way, writing that book was rewarding, even though it didn’t sell well, even though Mac might very well call it crud. But in writing it, I grew immeasurably. That book made me stretch. It was a challenge. I’m proud of what I did. I’m glad this kid, and maybe a few others, thought so, too. Because I wrote it for them.

I might not be an ambassador, but this week, here’s what I have to say:

Friends, ignore Mac. Instead, just look what you are capable of.

Look what you have done lately, what you have overcome. And what you are doing. And striving for. And reaching for. Look at your beautiful books.

When I look at our books, all I can say is WOW. BRAVO. I am impressed. Take some inventory and reward yourself for everything you do. Every day. Laugh at the fears you have ignored. Feel good about the dares you have taken. Congratulate yourself for facing your fears and forgetting expectations without all the perks.

YOU DID IT.

No. YOU DO IT.

Sat night, I saw Lynda Barry talk about why art matters. Let me tell you: she celebrates ALL ART. There was no talk of “not good.”

Because art IS life.

It’s life, even though the world feels more and more like a dangerous place. It’s life because creativity comes from our hearts. And community. It’s life because we’re alive. Because images and text reach others. And start conversations. And that is not crud.

So get to work.

Delight yourself.

Write what’s in your soul. It may start out not looking so good, but you are determined people. You CAN do it. Your dream can come true.

I wish that somehow, everyone DID have the same opportunities to make whatever they wanted, but I don’t see any path forward other than hope. And work. And MORE STORY. And of course, community. Because we thrive when we support each other.

Are you ready to reach? And take chances? And risk falling on your face??? (Because failure is as essential as anything else in our practice.)

Here’s your prompt:

Go to your character’s basement.

Walk down the stairs. Turn on the light. Open the boxes. What is your character storing? Hiding? Holding onto?

Make a map if you like. Draw what you find. Draw yourself smiling. Draw with your eyes closed.

OR write it as a poem, if you like.

It’s up to you. But this week, I urge you to go there.

And have an excellent writing week.

Here are three organizations doing the world to put books in the hands of kids. Please support them if you are able. Please, share with friends.

https://www.readappalachian.org

https://bookofmyown.com/donation/

https://janeaddamschildrensbookaward.org

xo Sarah

Dear Writers,

In my writing life, I have spent a lot of time learning the rules. The rules of craft. The rules of creativity. The rules that make a book resonate. Learning these rules has given me a strong foundation for storytelling. The rules give me sign posts for story telling. They give me options. And reminders that help me keep going. But they can also be problematic. Sometimes, I strive to be too smart for my own good, or for my story’s good. Sometimes, the best thing we can do with a rule is smash it.

Breaking a rule can be exhilarating.

It can also be stress inducing.

As a species, we have been making art as long as we have been around this planet. Art is how we say: HERE I AM. Art is how we see each other. It’s how we move forward.

We need art. All kinds of it. We need to take it in. See it. Read it. Hear it. Live it. Last week, when my husband and I visited the Frick, we saw Renoir’s La Promenade.

I had a print of this painting in my room when I was a kid. My dad told me I was the “big sister” in the back. For years, I would look at this print and imagine stories. Did the sister in the painting felt the way I did? I was sure she did. I imagined being in France. And living in different times. And snatching that doll out of her hands. And wearing that dress. One image. Many stories. Seeing the original gave me a lot to play with.

This is the power of art.

And we are making it. Right now! How lucky we are to have even a moment to do this.

Every morning, I wake up and I look at my story and I am so happy to be making it, to be engaging with these characters in their worlds. And as a reader, I love when the conversation about their art turns to epiphany. New ideas. And yes. Rules broken. Because art IS our existence, we can’t let rules get in our way. In my weekly writing sprints, I am inspired by the willingness to break the rules and try new things. I now see this as essential: When we give ourselves permission to create first, follow rules later, we build connections. We find humanity in our characters and ourselves. We find the very things that will be meaningful to others. (If you want to know more about the subscription service that Chris Tebbetts and I offer, just send me a message! Or sign up for Get To Know Your Character. We will definitely be breaking some rules there.)

Making art isn’t ever easy. Even when I have momentum, I am working. Pushing. Taking dares. Feeling uncomfortable about what I am sharing. But nothing great gets made when we don’t give generously of ourselves. We must spend it all, as Annie Dillard says. We must not let the rules confine us.

May The Fourth Be with you. Let’s reach!

Today is the Met Gala—a fundraiser for art. Everyone going will be wearing insane fashion that tomorrow, I will peruse endlessly. Because even though I am impatient with a few choice billionaires and their excesses and narcissism and silencing of others (don’t get me started), I love clothes. Fashion is art! It helps tell a story.

Today, with a nod to Joan Rivers, ask: what are your characters wearing? In the biggest scenes, what do their clothes say about them? Are they dressed to impress? To make a point? Or to pretend they don’t care? Is there a tear in that shirt? Or are their pants cuffed? Are their clothes new? Or handed down? Do they have preferences? Does your character get annoyed by collars? Itchy fabric? Do they always overdress?

Putting together a character profile begins with traits. Physical and emotional. So look at your characters. Look in their closets. Think about how they present themselves to the world. Like those girls in the painting, their clothes help tell a story. They can help create subtext. And strengthen theme.

Have a great writing week. Don’t forget to break a rule!

xo Sarah

Dear Writers,

This week, I walked my book. I was in New York City to visit family and see some shows (Ragtime AND Death of a Salesman), and I had an extra couple of hours, so I headed to the Upper West Side to look for meaningful details.

I knew the approximate neighborhood my characters lived in. But I wanted to pick out a specific house. And look at the area from their eyes. The neighborhood I had described so far was vague, a product of good memories spent in an apt on 88th street.

Setting isn’t just a zip code.

It gives us details. It shows us who our characters are. It gives us a world our characters live in. This character is a judge who grew up on the Upper East Side, who never wanted to leave that tree lined street. This character needs to walk to Zabar’s. She likes visiting neighborhood restaurants and dives. And she likes to sit at Strawberry Fields in the park. A really important scene happens near this monument.

I found my house on W 74th. The nineteenth century townhouse looked like her taste. A flowering tree grew next to the gigantic bay window, where I could imagine her drinking her morning coffee. Nice stoop—the grandest on the block. I walked up and down the block for about thirty minutes to see what the character might see. And I made a list.

(At Strawberry Fields, an old couple was holding hands. Two kids ran in circles. Four dogs behaved. One holder man sat with his eyes closed and hummed.)

Then I decided to talk to some area doormen. There is another character in my book who is very rich and lives in a penthouse, but this was strictly my imagination talking. I needed to give her a place that would represent who she was.

(If you want to know what a place is really like, ask a person like a doorman!!! They had LOTS to say!)

They were willing to play!!! I gave them my parameters, and they sent me to the Dakota, where that doorman there gave me even more details of the building and the history of some of its most famous tenants. I got a floor plan from a recent open house. I took some pictures. I walked between the two settings. I imagined them bumping into each other, even though they wouldn’t want to.

I do this for all of my novels. Being in the setting of the book gave me extra details which give my story authenticity and meaningful subtext. Especially when you are writing about a real place, you cannot get it wrong. Yes, I could do this all online, but when I get the chance to live and walk your book, do it!

Are you ready to stretch?

Where does your story take place? Today, make a map for your character. On the map, jot down where things in your story take place. Then brainstorm some memories that occurred in that place.

Was your character hurt in this place? Did they get a prize? Face humiliation? Fall in love? This will help you find the meaningful specifics that make your art come to life.

Go to the notebook and imagine a moment in your story and what more might be triggered. Use your senses to explore this moment for your character. Do you have a memory that might fortify that moment? Use it. This week, walking my book gave me a lot of things to think about.

But mostly: find those doormen, the people who watch and listen, but might feel like setting themselves. Don’t be afraid to talk. And ask for what you might not yet know about the place. If you are lucky, they will tell you what you need to add even more tension and heart to a scene.

Have a great writing week!

xo Sarah

Dear Writers,

This post is going to contain spoilers from the second season of THE PITT. So, if you haven’t finished watching, bookmark this post and come back later. If you haven’t watched it yet, I highly recommend it. It’s a great series. With GREAT writing. And character development. This show offers us a lot of examples of everything we are trying to build in our stories:

• great characters with flaws and desires and character arcs. Very satisfying.

• great scenes that stack to push the viewer to infer more. No details wasted!

• anticipation! They forced me to pay attention at all times.

• meaningful themes that reflected the world right now

  So, let’s break it down. Why does The Pitt work? What are the writers doing to create tension, high stakes, emotional growth, and interest? I mean, yes, this is not the first show about the ER. People are showing up in life or death moments.

  How did they make us care about every character, even the ones that not everybody likes. And without the usual trappings.

1. Authenticity and accuracy. They honor the truth. I never feel like I am watching something that couldn’t happen in real life. That’s because the emotions and actions feel interconnected. It’s also because they use real medical terminology. They use their stethoscopes correctly. They have backstories that feel real to this world.

2. Setting: the ER is a great setting for drama. For meeting people on the brink. The patients of The Pitt work because they have real problems. The clock is ticking. Again, there is accuracy happening. No theme music. Even when they reference ER, they do not stray from being REAL.

3. They did not shy away from the political nature of the setting, the people, the cases. These writers poked at the issues that we are already talking about and putting that tension in scene. This season, story lines have included overworked doctors, ICE, suicidal ideation, disability, and the unhoused. While this may have turned off a few viewers, it never felt forced or unnatural or unearned, because health care is political. None of the storylines have felt didactic to me—or out of left field. The writers had something to say. And they said it.

4. Their scene stacking has been phenomenal. While this setting can feel out of control, each scene elevated the scenes that came before it. Every patient’s subplot reflected on the growth/change of the main characters and themes. But my believability was not threatened. The causality and logic grew with the tension. Each scene asked and answered questions—which kept me active in the story. In The Pitt, I admire how no detail goes wasted. They treat me like I’m smart. And I appreciated the occasional dose of well timed humor.

5. They used gestures and elision to create tension. Just looking at the eyes told a story. In every scene, I saw subtext and contradictions in the way they moved. During the fireworks scene in particular, the writers did not explain what each character was thinking about, like the scene with the fireworks, which has generated a HUGE amount of discussion.

   

   
   WHY? Because the emotions were real. But no one explained anything. Perlah’s face was distressed, but she didn’t tell us why. Was she thinking of Louie, the guy who said he loved fireworks, right before he died? Or the ICE agents who took her coworker into custody? Or the irony that we were celebrating freedom on the same day when people fled the hospital because of ICE? Or because they were beautiful? Friends, whatever YOU think she was thinking, it’s okay. There’s no wrong answer here. Literally, it is up to you. And that is what trusting the reader is all about. They trusted us to make our own conclusions—and I bet they are very happy how many theories people have posted.

   And when they did talk about their feelings? Like when Langdon confronted Santos and later, Robby? Or when Mel talked about her sister, Becca, having a boyfriend? They used those moments to say more. About friendship. And boundaries. And rules. At the end, after a long day and fireworks, when Mel is doing karaoke, is she thinking that she is somehow independent? Is that what makes that last scene so satisfying? Or is it satisfying because mean girl Santos isn’t actually mean after all? How great was it to blow off steam with them?

6. Surprising/inevitable endings are satisfying! When he held that baby and swaddled her and told her about his mother abandoning him, we were surprised. We understood. We felt sorry for Robby. We could see him softening. Reconsidering. healing. We are no longer worried that he is going to hurt himself.

7. The power of tension. And a clock that ticks! Lives are in the balance. Poor Louie! Yay for the man who wasn’t paralyzed. I hated finding out that the woman’s leg couldn’t be saved. But that is how story works. Not everyone gets the happy ending. The patients each create tension.

8. SECONDARY CHARACTERS MATTER. So do tertiary characters. Every detail builds on the other details. Every person is memorable. Every character deserves empathy. Humorous cases come in next to heart wrenching ones. Ex: The baby Jane Doe! On one level, the baby shows us that the system isn’t perfect. The baby is there all day! On another level, she represents hope and life, in a series that is mostly about burnt out people. And to make it more interesting, her room is the room where Robby’s mentor died. When Robby soothes her, he reveals what he wanted. And what he doesn’t have. And maybe, why he was running (as Duke would say).

9. And of course, they found hope. In Digby, who somehow is still unhoused, but I’m a little less worried, as he struts down the street with the CPR Annie and Whittaker’s badge. In the karaoke, where the women let out their rage. In the hug between men. When Abbot said, “You gotta find somebody to help you dance through the darkness,” I thought THEME. This is a series about the people we all need to survive, even though they are not perfect. We see bittersweet reflections in Robby seeing what he wanted in Whittaker. We see the power of friendship between Langdon and Dr. Mel.

10. Dialogue was great. When people really know each other, they can say things like, “That’s not riding. That’s running.” And we believe them.

Ready to reach? I am!

Today, let’s focus on SCENE STACKING.

Open your manuscript and look at the most pivotal scenes. How does one lead to the next? Have you set up enough motivation? Subtext? Any obstacles? Is there a theme between these scenes? Logic?

Then think like your readers.

What do you think the reader can glean from each scene? Are you trusting them or explaining too much? If you like, take out all the interiority and focus on the gestures, tics, the body language, who is in the scene and who isn’t. Build in senses. And tension. You WANT readers talking about your characters and why they did what they did. Are you giving them something to talk about? How are you creating the high points in your story?

I’m off to NYC! Have a great writing week!

xo Sarah