by Francine Puckly

​​Two weeks ago I dropped my daughter off at NYU. Going from a small high school in Massachusetts to a university with a worldwide enrollment of 57,000 and a freshman class just shy of 6,000 students, it shouldn’t be a surprise that this is a huge adjustment. But it’s not the size of the school that’s disconcerting. It’s the feeling that she’s not quite sure she belongs. As I wrote her a letter this morning, I realized her journey into a film career mirrors mine as a writer. And I believe it’s important advice for me to remember everyday, as well as anyone else in a creative field. It ain’t easy, people. But there are two fundamental pieces of advice I gave my daughter that I believe we all should follow.
 
First, in the big, bad world of anonymity, when you’re lost in the sea of humanity, when you find yourself in a business that feels large and impersonal, it’s very important we seek out mentors, friends and supporters who will validate our creativity, help us feel welcome, help us to trust our instincts, help us make good choices personally and professionally. The ironic piece of this is that we must step out of our comfort zone in order to step into our comfort zone. We have to knock on doors, attend workshops and socials where we know no one, introduce ourselves over and over until we find those three or five or fifty people who will be our professional family going forward. 
 
When I first set off into the publishing world, it was big and scary and I didn't know where to begin. I didn't know how to meet people, how to get started, where to find a critique group, or how to write a synopsis or a cover letter. I began this journey of building a community by attending an awards presentation and schmooze. After getting lost four or five times and circling on one-way streets, I arrived quite late. A bit frazzled and nervous, I dove into the swarm of strangers and proceeded to ask Lois Lowry if she had ever been published. (She had, in case you were wondering.) Having gotten the worst, most humiliating network experience out of the way, things took a turn for the better after that first night. I persisted meeting new people and, consequently, I turned the big, bad world of publishing into a smaller, family community through workshops, socials, SCBWI conferences, author signings and local bookstore events. I've met great people, made lifelong friends, and have found out that most people are just as scared as I am and are looking for friends and community too. As I told my daughter, we’re all looking for community. That’s the human experience, right? We’re all looking for reasons to get up in the morning and go to work. And the people I assumed would be the least approachable are the ones who were most approachable, and they have turned out to be trusted friends and mentors.
 
The second piece of advice I gave her was to trust her instincts. It’s often the hardest thing to do. We must trust our instincts and never look back. We shouldn’t wish to be more like "X" unless we truly believe being a little more like "X" will make us better writers, better people. Just as she may think she’s supposed to be like another student in class who receives an abundance of praise for a film style that’s not comfortable to her, we writers are often guilty of the same second-guessing. The biggest mistake writers make (and I made it early on) is trying to follow the market or trying to be someone we're not. We hear what publishers are buying and what they're sinking huge marketing dollars in, and we think, "Crap. I don't write that." And then the next logical thought is, "Maybe I should write that instead." And we try to do that, and we fail. We fail because we don't follow our own voices. Not one publisher out there is publishing what I’m currently writing. Not one. And I'm pretty sure if you were to say to them, "Hey, how about a YA novel about XXX?” they'd spit their coffee out all over their desks. But I've never been prouder of something I've written (and I’m sure they just don’t know they’re looking for it yet!). I believe in this manuscript. I believe in the story. I believe in the characters. I believe in my voice. And I will ride this book to the end of my days, until I find the agent, the editor, the publisher who believes in it, too. 
 
My last piece of advice that went along with that is don't ever apologize for being different. Don't ever think that your voice isn't good enough, isn't polished enough, isn’t incorporating fancy words. Your voice, your vision, your perspective on a story (and life) is one of the most important things to trust. Hone it. Listen to it. Never, I repeat NEVER, apologize for it! Let other people do those other things that you think are more glamorous or sophisticated or whatever. You're not that person. You're something different. You're something better.
 
Good advice, right? Now we have to follow it ourselves. If you haven’t found your community, the people who make your world feel smaller and more tangible, get out there and shake some hands and kiss some babies...you'll find your small comfort zone one hello at a time. And if you’re still questioning your worth, your voice, your instinct, to that I say, STOP. Believe in your voice and don’t look back.
 
One of my favorite quotes is by Rabbi Zusya and his concern about his first conversation with God after he died. “When I die,” the Rabbi said, “I know God's not going to ask me 'Why weren't you more like Moses?' or 'Why weren't you more like King David?' But I'm afraid that God will ask 'Why weren't you more like Zusya?' And then what will I say?”
 
Don’t let that be you.
 
 ~ Francine

by Kelly Carey

During his Oscar acceptance speech for Best Animated Feature, Pete Docter, the director of Inside Out, made me realize that I’ve been wasting my bad moods.
I don’t write when I’m mad, angry, upset or scared.  Instead, I wait to be in the perfect mood before I sit at the computer to write.

What a huge mistake!

Every mood should be my perfect writing mood. Tapping into all my emotions, by writing when I’m sad, mad, or nervous, instead of just relaxed and happy, will give my characters greater emotional depth and their stories more range and universal appeal.  I should use the entire Inside Out mood board.

Thanks to Pete’s words, I will no longer wait for both a quiet house and a quiet mind to write. He made me realize that I am missing out if I don’t grab the opportunity to write when I’m annoyed, upset or hurt. As Pete advised, “there are days you’re going to feel sad…angry…scared. That’s nothing you can choose. But you can make stuff. Make films, draw, write – it will make a world of difference.”

I am done using the excuse of my mood as a reason not to write. Instead, I’m going to embrace my mood as a reason to write.  As Pete Docter said, “we are so lucky because we get to make stuff”.  Funnel all your feelings into your characters and their stories; use your mood as an impetus to capture the full range of human emotions.

As a bonus, when you have gifted your characters with your less than perfect mood, you will hit save on the computer and whistle away from your workspace feeling accomplished, and happy.  In the words of my fellow blogger Amanda, "It's like exercise. Just less sweaty!".

Writing in a bad mood will not only enrich your writing, but improve your day.  Now that’s happy writing.

~ by Amanda Smith
​
Last week as I was doing my other job, I noticed a strange phenomenon.  I was a substitute teacher in a history class, where the students were working on a creative project. They had to research a historical figure; draw pictures of what this person might have been thinking; and write a first-person paragraph for each picture, describing the thoughts and emotions of this person.  The students all had devices to help them with their research. I loved the idea of this project which was geared towards the development of critical thinking skills. As I walked between their desks, admiring their pictures and monitoring their internet use, I was shocked to discover what they were googling.

No, none of that.

They were looking up clip art for tomb stones and Jolly Rogers, why ships in general sink, and how to draw a stick girl!  Now, that one might have started out as a joke.
Student 1: I can’t even draw a stick figure!
Student 2: Google it.
The joke is funny. What was not funny, was that he actually googled it. And drew his stick figure girl exactly like the one on the screen. 
Student 3: I can’t remember what the British flag looks like. May I Google it?
Me: Use your text book. I’m sure it’s in there somewhere.
Student 3 flipped aimlessly through his text book.
Me: Use the index. It’s called the Union Jack.
Student 3 turned to back of book, looking in appendixes. After watching him page through his textbook for what seemed like forever, and considering the amount of laptops I had closed for frivolous use of the internet, I allowed him to google it.
Student 3: (Face palm) I cannot believe I forgot this is what it looks like!
Student 4, cracking up at Student 3, places paper on computer screen and traces Union Jack.

By this time I was overwhelmed by the stench of perfectly good brains rotting all around me. Now, don't get me wrong, I have no problem with the use of technology or the internet. The internet is a wonderfully helpful tool. It becomes a problem when it is used as a substitute for thinking, innovation and imagination. Much has been said about the "Google effect" and how it is changing the way we apply our minds. Writer Paul Miller, after taking an entire year off from the Internet, says that we have to resist becoming blobs who "exist on the internet instead of getting into the Internet, using it as a really cool tool, and then putting it away so (we) can focus on writing or something." That day in the classroom, I was saddened by the fact that kids who had been given an opportunity to be original, had chosen to be mundane. I was flabbergasted by kids being so connected that they are completely disconnected from their own thoughts.

​But most importantly, as a writer, I was concerned that they were disconnected from their own voices.
And I wondered:
Is this what our future looks like? Where is the creativity?

Innovate, don’t imitate Dan Santat whispered in my ear.

Old school, in big red letters, I wrote on the board: INNOVATE, DON’T IMITATE. After I googled Dan Santat on the teacher’s computer, I cast his lovable, friendly face on the white board with the overhead projector (Hey, it’s cool technology.) And I told these students the story Dan shared with us at the 2015 NESBWI Spring Conference.

About how he was working for Disney. And how he realized his art was being influenced by his environment until he was merely recreating existing Disney characters. How he left this “dream job” and threw himself into his art and discovered his own voice. And how he won the 2015 Caldecott Medal for THE ADVENTURES OF BEEKLE. Because he dared to innovate.

I hope those kids heard. But my heart leapt a little, because, as I am in the midst of revision, Dan was also speaking to me. Like those students, I am presented with the opportunity to be creative every time I sit down to write. Am I original? Am I true to my voice? Am I inventing?

In writing and revision, how can we be sure we are innovative? 

• ​Question the originality of your ideas. Are they truly new, or just the same character in a new dress?
• Look at your story and characters from a different angle or new POV. Ask "What if?" or experiment with opposites.
• Examine the universal truth in your story.
• Don’t follow trends. Write your passion.
• Cut everything that is cliché. Make sure every character has a legitimate, personal reason for their words and actions. Even if you never spell that out in your story, you need to know why your character is how he is. And it can’t be because that is how characters like him have always been.
• Cut the scenes that you have seen before, whether in other books, or in movies. Even if you read them somewhere else years after you had first written them. Even if they are your absolute darlings. If the idea is not innovative, find a different way to tell that part of the story.
• Disconnect so you can connect. Disconnect from media and other interruptions so that you can connect with your creative self. Some writers use timed-out software or write in spaces where the internet is unavailable. I find turning off all notification helps me focus. Using a timer to set definite writing times, and designated social media times (with my morning coffee, during my lunch break) are also ways I disconnect so I can focus on creating. I try not to bring social media into my work space. For me, making time to quiet my inner-self -  be it through walking, yoga, reading something inspirational, prayer, or the practice of solitude - is essential to my creative process. Innovation requires time and space.

Dare to discover the innovative, creative spirit that dwells within you. Dare to go on a journey to find your voice. No Google required.
​

~by Amanda Smith

“Speak to me until I understand
Why our thinking and creating
Why our efforts of narrating
About the beauty, of the beauty
And why it matters”
~ Sara Groves Why it Matters
​
As writing weeks go, last week was less than stellar. A month ago I felt particularly brave and sent out a whole barrage of queries. And, typical to the querying process, the rejections started rolling in last week. The high point of this phenomenal writing week was that I didn’t get to spend one single day writing; creating something new; doing the actual thing that fills my cup. And so, by this weekend, I was seriously questioning my career path.

It seems like such a cheek, such a nerve, to take all this time and pour it into this frivolous thing called “writing for children.” It seems like such an audacious luxury to contemplate and feel, and then pour it in story form onto a page. And call it work.

And that’s when I stumbled on this short video by Sara Groves, my favorite singer, song writer, and human rights activist. In the video she refers to artist Makoto Fujimura discussing utility, pragmatism and art. “Utilitarian pragmatism chokes out art, love and beauty,” Fujimura states in his blog post Art, Love and Beauty: An introduction. Sara encourages artists to push against practicality and usefulness.  We should make space for contemplation. We need this “extravagant, wasteful, space” in order to create beauty.

Because beauty matters.

Like the band that played while the Titanic sank.
Like Vedran Smailović, the cellist from Sarajevo, who played his cello in ruins during the siege of Sarajevo.
Like Karim Wasfi, conductor of the Iraqi National Symphony Orchestra, who played his cello at the devastation left by a car bomb in Bagdad. “Why do we keep on doing this? Because we appreciate beauty and we want to build, not to destroy,” said Wasfi.
​Like Syrian artist Tamman Azzam who superimposed an image of Gustav Klimt's The Kiss on a war torn building in Syria.
Like Jessixa Bagley who provides a channel for recognizing absence in BOATS FOR PAPA. Like Peter Reynolds who inspires and validates creativity in DOT and ISH. Like Jo Knowles who leads readers to better understanding and empathy in SEE YOU AT HARRY’S or PEARL. Like Terry Farish who sheds light on refugees in THE GOOD BRAIDER. Like Miranda Paul who raises environmental awareness in ONE PLASTIC BAG. Like Dan Santat who stirs up imagination in BEEKLE. Like authors such as Tara Lazar and Mo Willems who create frivolous, yet significant, laugh-out-loud fun. Like Brian Floca who steals our breath in LOCOMOTIVE.
That is the beauty to which I want to add.
​
Those of us who identify as artist; those of us who are thinkers; those of us who sit with an emotion, or an idea until it becomes words, something concrete, something useful:
We add to the beauty.
It is an extravagant luxury.
And it matters.
 

by Francine Puckly

This blog is late for a number of reasons, but the most notable cause is burnout. I began 2015 convinced that I had only a few short weeks of revision remaining for my current YA manuscript. I dashed off on a three-week sprint to finish the story. 

Those three weeks came and went while I slogged through the quagmire of subplot placement and character development.
           
 “That’s okay,” I told myself. “I know I can finish in another two weeks.”
           
I pounced on the manuscript with almost the same enthusiasm. Almost. But my commitment to this draft was soon smothered with life—fundraising for a non-profit I support, events planning for another, a family medical emergency, band concerts, budget meetings, and snowstorms. 
            
“It’s okay,” I still told myself. “If I cut my sleep a little bit more, I know I’ll finish in two weeks!”
            
And it was okay.
            
Until it wasn’t.
            
A medical trip to my parents’ home for four days forced a reevaluation of my writing process. Despite missing my self-imposed deadlines repeatedly, I had become a workaholic. I didn’t reduce other commitments. Instead, I took from myself. I gave up the good things in life that could have, and should have, sustained me. It was only after stepping away from this destructive routine that I could see I had to stop the madness.
            
But old habits die hard, and I posted my April goals, telling myself (and the world!) I would complete my manuscript (again)! You’d think I’d learn.
           
I went in tonight and changed my goals. I don’t know if I can finish the manuscript this month without hurting all that’s good in my life. A more realistic goal is taking time for four two-hour sessions each week over and above my 20 minutes a day. Not word count. Not page numbers. Not completion. 
            
What will I do instead? I’m taking steps to regain my physical fitness, treating my son to dinner after shoe shopping, and reading books outside in the first moderate temperatures we've had in months. And I just might go see "Cinderella."
            
And the manuscript? Oh, I suppose I’ll finish it.
            
Someday.
            
After a good night’s sleep and a long walk.


- Francine

By Francine Puckly

​It’s one thing to rearrange deck chairs on the Titanic and quite another if we were to have done this on the famous Stella Polaris in its heyday or perhaps today on the Seven Seas Mariner. Instead of a futile exercise, you’re grabbing a new perspective on an already-amazing creative journey.

I returned last night from the SCBWI Winter Conference in New York City. I spent four long, sleep-deprived days listening to inspirational lectures by authors, illustrators, agents and publishers about the fabulous things happening in children’s publishing, brainstorming ideas with colleagues for our personal projects as well as the efforts of our writing organization, and reconnecting with old friends and making new ones over mugs of tea and glasses of wine.

This morning I pondered those nuggets of hope and inspiration I acquired over the weekend while I sipped my cup of tea. Then I rearranged my writing world. I moved my writing desk from a snow-blocked window to one that provided a different view, I deleted the first two chapters of my novel to leave room for a new perspective, and I wrote down the first five things I wanted to change this week. New views. New perspectives. New energy. And with renewed focus, I began to write and tackle those goals.

What did I learn this weekend? I learned to listen to others and allow them to fill my well. I learned that it’s critical to network and meet new people with new ideas. I realized that no matter how hard it is to budget for workshops and leave my family behind, it’s essential to invest in education. And I found out it’s necessary to put my refreshed mind to work immediately before losing the positive influences.

Even though you might not have gone away for the weekend, take some time today to look at what feels too familiar or no longer provides the inspiration it once had. Rearrange a few deck chairs. Make a quick list of things you can refresh right now. It might be as small as purchasing a new journal and indexing the pages as Laura Vaccaro Seeger does to keep track of her ideas, registering for a class or workshop that you didn’t think you could justify, or merely moving a desk to a new room or window to watch the birds or falling snow. Once you’ve done that, take out your favorite pen or brush and add some splash to your project.

Francine