Congratulations to Dee Romito with the release of her new middle-grade novel, POSTCARDS FROM VENICE,
​a companion to THE BFF BUCKET LIST. We are honored that Dee took a break from the book birthday celebrations to talk about writing timelines.

Guest blog by Dee Romito

One of the questions I’m often asked is how long it takes me to write a book. The thing is, it’s not a simple answer.

My first manuscript took a year to write, and I’ve always thought of it like working on a Master’s Project. I was learning how to write a book with that manuscript. My next one took six months. The next, four months. During that time, I was also exchanging with critique partners. Which means those time frames include waiting for feedback.

Being able to complete a project in less time was definitely good practice for when I’d have actual deadlines. And while you may or may not write faster as you grow as a writer, remember that becoming a stronger writer is really about practicing and continuing to learn your craft.

Most of my books have sold on proposal, which means I wrote sample chapters and a synopsis and was then asked to write the rest. In those cases, I had between 4-7 months to turn in a somewhat polished draft to my editor. And for me, that means leaving time to have my trusted critique partners give me feedback, and then revise based on their notes.

However, my new release, POSTCARDS FROM VENICE, took longer. Maybe … eight months for that first draft? And it took much longer in revisions too.

This book was different. For one thing, I was still at various stages in the process with two other books, so I was essentially working on three books at the same time. It was like a revolving door of stories that I had to keep track of. I couldn’t devote all my writing time to any one project. Not to mention the time I spent working on promotion for the other books.

There was also a lot I needed to learn for this book. It takes place in Venice, where I’ve never been. There’s some Italian in the book, but I took Spanish in school. And there’s an Australian boy, who I wanted to be sure was authentic. And did I mention I’ve never been to Venice?

So it took time. It took Google Earth and Pinterest and Tripadvisor.com’s reviews of tourist sites and travel blogs. It took critique partners and reaching out to friends of friends who had been to or lived in Venice. It took lots of questions and lots of videos of Italy. It took listening and reading and researching. And with all of that to think about, sometimes I needed to step away from the project and work on something else.

So how long does it take to write a book? The real answer is that it depends. Which means it’s up to you to answer that question on your own, without a preconceived notion of how long it should take.
I asked a few published middle grade author friends, and the responses to “How long does it take you to write a book?” ranged from a month to two years.

It takes what it takes, and many factors come into play—the category, the genre, the word count, how complex the project is, if you plot extensively or spend more time in revisions, if there are deadlines, if critique partners or agents need time to read, if you have other books to work on or have other life-related things going on, how fast you can write, etc. The time it takes you to write a book could be years or it could be months. And how fast you write does not determine how good the book will be.

Having a general idea of ranges when it comes to the publishing world is helpful. But always know that you will have your own challenges and goals, and your own path. Finishing a book is one thing, but starting one … Well, now that’s something you can accomplish right now. 😊
 
Dee Romito is a former elementary teacher and is the author of THE BFF BUCKET LIST, NO PLACE LIKE HOME and co-authored BEST. NIGHT. EVER. Always a traveler at heart, she's sent postcards of Big Ben from London, of snow-capped mountains from Switzerland, and of majestic castles from Ireland. Although she's only been to Italy once for a quick plate of pasta, sending a post card from Venice just might be on her bucket list. You can visit her website at DeeRomito.com 
​Dee is also the Scrivener Queen.  For Scrivener advice, writers can head over to her blog
 www.writeforapples.com/p/write-book.html

~ by Amanda Smith

Dear First-time Conference Attendee,
Phew! What a weekend! Is your head still spinning with all you heard and everyone you met? Are you finding yourself alternating between euphoric highs, having walked the hallways with legends, and gloomy lows with whispers of “but do I belong?” haunting your dreams?

Let me assure you, I know the feeling. I attended my first NESCBWI conference seven years ago. I was just returning to writing and not sure of anything yet. The inevitable ice-breaker “What do you write?” stumped me all day long. Because I went to the conference to figure that out! As I shared workshops with seemingly confident people who were much more knowledgeable than I was, I felt my voice getting smaller and smaller. By lunch time I was barely a whisper. Somehow, in my oblivion, I ended up at a table with YA and MG writers who were all either published or on the cusp of getting published. They included me, took interest in my work, encouraged me, gave advice, and showed extreme kindness.

I left the conference knowing this:

• Picture books have rules. Yes, even I have to follow them.
• I have to write the YA novel in my heart.
• There are years of unseen work and multiple manuscripts behind what seems like overnight success.
• If this is the kidlit community, I want to be part of it.

So, dear First-timer, here are some post-conference tips for you:

• If you heard the same advice multiple times, from multiple people, believe them. There are correct ways to approach industry professionals and writing picture books. There are genres and sub-genres and word limits. There are steps to be taken when it comes to plotting, character development, revision, and publishing. There are basic, fundamental guidelines you are expected to follow, no matter how unique you think you or your manuscripts are. Listen to what people are telling you regarding your work and the industry. You came to learn.
• If you heard the same encouragement multiple times from multiple people, believe them. You can do this. You have a place here. Your voice is important. Only you can tell your story. Creativity is necessary. Our audience counts. What we do has purpose and meaning. Let these encouragements be your wings.
• Educate yourself regarding every aspect of your craft and the industry. You don’t have to do it all at once, but keep learning.
• Read, read, read in your genre. And outside your genre.
• Keep coming back. Every time you come back, you will recognize more names and faces, get to know people, and become more familiar with the format. After a few years, you will find that you have become the welcoming, generous kidlit person who can help a newby.
• Step out of your comfort zone. When you return to a conference, prepare to do something brave. Volunteer, sign up for a critique, participate in open-mic night. The conference is a place to grow. You can’t grow if you don’t break out of your shell.
• Follow up with a few people you have met after the conference. You might find a writing or critique partner. You might even find a friend. 24 Carrot Writing wouldn’t be a thing if it hadn’t been for a brave soul following up on conference acquaintances.
• Take time to go over your conference notes. You have been inundated with oodles of information. Also, file your notes to be easily accessible for future use. (Francine wrote a helpful blog about that here.)
• Keep writing. Try some of the tools you learned during the workshops. Ride the wave of conference inspiration. Butt in chair, my friend.

See you at the next conference!
Amanda

by Francine Puckly
 
For years I have been revising and polishing one of my manuscripts in order to get it ready for an agent or editor. It’s been a struggle, a journey sprinkled with pockets of both excitement and disillusionment. I’ve had it critiqued numerous times by my critique group members and various other beta readers. I’ve also paid for 10-page critiques, first page critiques, query critiques, more 10-page critiques and back around again. This past weekend I attended a regional conference and had two more industry professionals weigh in on the manuscript. They were in violent agreement. I continue to miss the mark.

I read over their feedback several times. I had a two-hour “therapy session” with a writing colleague who is familiar with the manuscript. Then just this morning I pulled out two files of notes from past workshops and conferences—one on Beginnings, the other on Character Development. The file on Beginnings was a slap in the face. There, dated four years earlier, was feedback about my opening chapters—almost verbatim to the feedback I received a few days ago. Nothing had changed.

So I either A) hadn’t learned a thing in four years, B) don’t possess the skill to fix it, or C) am locked into what has already been written and can’t break out of the word trap to fix the problems with the novel. I’m going with option C.

I’m fiddling, not fixing. I’m tweaking, not writing fresh new prose. I’m trying to force stale, overworked characters to fit a pre-determined plot instead of creating fresh, fabulous characters and then sending them (and the reader) on an exciting journey that incorporates character, voice, and setting.

So I’m following Lynda Mullaly Hunt’s lead. I deleted all of the drafts of that manuscript from my hard drive. (Confession: I’m not crazy. Unlike Lynda, I do have them saved to an external drive. But the drive is packed away in the deep recesses of my office closet and not easily accessed.)

How do I feel after deleting five years of work? I’m scared to death! I’ve consumed every piece of chocolate in the house and thought about opening a bottle of wine at 8:30 this morning. (I opted for a decaf earl grey latte…) But I also know deep in my bones that this was the right move. I won't go back to those drafts on the external drive.
​
I have work to do. An editor I greatly respect suggested a list of novels to study on character and beginnings. I will. I am. I will go back to the drawing board on creating, sketching and really getting to know my characters. And only after I complete those tasks will I sit down and rewrite the story. With renewed vigor. With soulful characters. From scratch.

By Kelly Carey

​It can happen when you excitedly present your latest work in progress to your critique group, and they take turns rattling off lists of picture books with your exact plot. Or when you are browsing the shelves at your favorite indie bookstore and find your book idea, with a stunning cover face out, written by someone else. Perhaps it was in a rejection letter from an editor that read “sorry, but we already have a similar book on our list”. The results are a stunning hit to your creative energy that can leave you with the niggling feeling that every idea you’ve ever had has already been done.

The knee jerk response could be to delete the manuscript and snuggle under a blanket with a large bowl of ice cream admonishing yourself for ever thinking that you had a unique idea. I mean how could you really think your idea was original?

You can!

Take a breath and realize that while similar plots, themes, settings, and even characters can be found throughout kidlit, it’s your unique voice that puts the originality in the work.

~ by Amanda Smith

As a substitute teacher I often walk into an emergency, with lesson plans drawn up quickly by someone whose mind was in a much more urgent place. On one such a day, the art teacher left me, in her words, “sketchy plans” – most of which involved students finishing current projects followed by open studio. Now, I’m all for open studio and free draw, but first grade had no projects to finish first. That meant 45 minutes of free draw: The definition of chaos.

Thankfully, I had a planning period. And an ally in the school librarian. After thinking for a second or two, she pulled Harry the Dirty Dog by Gene Zion off her shelf.
“You know,” she said, “kids love dogs. And they always enjoy Harry’s adventures.”
Together we studied Margaret Bloy Graham’s illustrations, and a lesson plan was born.

​Fast forward to the first-grade class. I read the book. The kids were delighted. Then I held up Harry the Dirty Dog. “We are going to draw Harry,” I said.
Shock and mayhem.
“What!”
“We can’t draw like that!”
“That’s impossible.”
I turned a deaf ear to the protests as I handed out a sheet of paper with a rectangle already drawn on it. I explained that we would have to work together to draw Harry, as it is a step by step process.  Then the students and I drew Harry using the parameters of a rectangle. 

As their dog drawings took shape, their joy was contagious. And here’s the thing: even though they all followed my instructions, not one of the dogs looked the same. We had skinny, long nosed dachshunds, and pudgy, round nosed puppies. We had droopy eared dogs and shaggy tailed dogs. Boy Harrys with spiky collars and girl Harrys with pink bows. Every student loved their own Harry, and was amazed that they could indeed draw like that.
Here’s what I learned by drawing Harry, and how it pertains to writing:

1. Know the shape of your story. Harry is drawn in and around a rectangle. Once the students could see that, they could follow the steps to draw him. Identify the internal structure of your book.
2. Take it one step at a time. Those first graders looked at the cover of the book, and were done in by the details of it all, but once we broke the task down into steps, it was completely doable. Don’t stress about the revision process or the rewrite if you haven’t written the first draft yet. When you get to the next step, you will be ready for it, because you already did the groundwork. Follow the process.
3. You are capable of more than you think. Just like those first graders, you may look at an idea and think that you cannot possibly do it. Yet, each and every one of them drew a Harry. They loved their pictures and they celebrated their neighbor’s pictures. As a collective, they were in awe that the ability to draw that dog was INSIDE of them.
4. Listen to your heart and tell your story your way. Remember how the students’ dog drawings were all different? Even if an idea has been done before, your execution of it will be unique.
5. Also, librarians rock!

So, as you take the steps to shape your book, follow your heart and believe in the creativity you already have inside of you. Go ahead, unleash your inner-Harry.

by Annie Cronin Romano
​
Goals.

It’s a word that’s thrown around quite a bit, isn’t it? We are always supposed to have a plan. We need to know where we’re going. We have to visualize the finish line.  

At 24 Carrot Writing, our primary focus is to keep you motivated and on track via solid goals and self-recognition and to give you the support to do this. The importance of goals and the skill of goal setting has been the thread of this month’s blogs. But what if the idea of setting writing goals makes your stomach churn? What if you are one of those folks who won’t make New Year’s resolutions for fear of breaking them? You’re probably not about to set any specific writing goals because you may not meet them. Setting writing goals can be intimidating.  But it is a vital step in the writing process, because it sets the tone of accountability. 
​
So if you were not planning to set any writing goals this year, I urge you to rethink. Don’t be afraid. We are not going to let you out of it. Strive to be realistic in your goals. As Amanda Smith wrote in her blog (“Doing the Necessary” January 12, 2018), look carefully at where you are now in your writing journey and what is a realistic next step. 

And I am going suggest one additional step for those fearful of the goal setting process. Add a forgiveness clause at the end. Yes, you read that correctly. Forgiveness clause. This clause should state that if you do not completely meet any of your goals, you will not self-flagellate, wail, or grind your teeth. You will not put yourself down or state that you should give up on writing because you’d have better success selling steaks to a vegan grocery. Basically, this forgiveness clause will cut you some slack for any twists and turns that may take you off your intended path and keep you from sitting down on that pity pot. 

You may not meet all your writing goals. I may not either. But if you don’t set them, you have no plan. No direction. You won’t know where the finish line is. And that can make starting the race pretty disconcerting. So give yourself the gift of a plan for your writing this year. Do your best to stay on track. But know that even if you don’t meet every writing goal you set, you are moving closer to the finish line by drawing yourself a map of how to get there. And that is a key step in your writing success.

~by Amanda Smith

I have always had a gut feeling that writing poetry is a precursor to writing well.  Only recently, while preparing a poetry workshop for middle school students, did I realize how strongly I believe in the poetry connection.

During my kids’ baby and toddler years, I didn’t have the strength, time, or mental capacity (Mommy brain, anyone?) to write long pieces. I pushed writing to the very outer circle of my priorities, but somewhere in my youngest’s second year the need to write wiggled its way right into the center of my being. I jotted down ideas, struggles, joys, and observations in free verse. As I played with words, clapped rhythms, and rearranged sentences, within me, something awoke again. And it grew. It grew into picture books, and early readers, and novels.

Even all these years and manuscripts later, the poetry that called me from my writer’s slumber is still relevant. Because what we learn in writing and studying poetry, translates to every kind of writing.

What do we gain when we write poetry?

• Self-discovery
  •  The style and length parameters of poetry compel us to promptly find the heart of who we are in the moment, and what we want to express. The ability to dig for heart is essential in plotting and character development.

• Economic language use
  • Writing within the limits of poetry, we learn that every word counts, so we’d better pick the right ones. Writing poetry hones our ability to recognize the right word.

• Self-expression
  • Writing poetry is an excuse to feel all the feels. Remember those angsty teenage poems in the back of your high school notebooks? (I refuse to believe I was the only one.) Pouring emotions onto a page in poetic form, allows writers to play with expression. What is too melodramatic? How and when do I turn the volume down? What happens to the impact of a piece when I turn the emotional volume down? Different characters express emotions on different levels. Have you written poetry from your characters’ point of view? It might help you narrow down their voice, or  you might discover something about their emotional state.
• Unlocking imagination
  • Even though poetry is constraining in form, thematically, anything goes. Writing down silliness or sometimes lyrical nonsense accesses a playfulness in the brain – that part that asks “What if?”

• Sensory awareness
  • Because poetry leans heavily on sensory perception, when we write poetry we pay more attention with all our senses. We learn to think beyond sight and hearing. We learn to link emotion and atmosphere to senses.
  • And since there is also no room to tell, we learn to show.

• Lyrical language
  • Poetic devices translate to lyrical writing in prose.

I spent a big part of Monday writing limericks. I can’t remember when last I had so much fun. The silliness of it all, within the seriousness of the form. The absolute thrill of finding just the right rhyming words to deliver that guffaw in the last line. Playfulness unlocking imagination and humor. Play, play, play.

South African poet Carina Stander challenged herself in high school to write a new poem every second Sunday.  She still does that. Ame Dyckman regularly tweets haiku-like observations. Kate DiCamillo often posts lyrical reflections on social media. Jane Yolen starts every work day by writing a poem. Considering their careers, I have to believe they're onto something. We need to shake this pressure that everything we write has to be for the book, or go in the book.

Will you explore the poetry connection with me? I’m challenging myself to produce a poem a week. Come join me. Our play has purpose.
 

As much as we itch to get back to writing, finding our groove after the summer can be challenging. Here are a few strategies that help me focus my writing for the last quarter of the year.

• Find your desk

This is always my starting point. Finding my desk includes the filing of papers, and shelving of books, and general cleaning of my office. It is organizing files in ways that work for me. It is getting a physical space ready for productivity, whether it is a mostly stationary space like mine, or a portable one, like Francine’s. (the-portable-office.html) But it is more than that. It is also finding where I left off. I often read through the last couple of stories I had worked on before I had left my desk. I revisit my submission spreadsheets and query letters. It is mostly about finding my inner-desk, that place in my brain that is all about writing

• Aggressive goals

Once my space is in order, I like to pull close my goals and schedule.  On my schedule, I black out days that I know will be writing duds, such as holidays or scheduled work days, and then I aggressively write the remainder of my yearly goals into my schedule. Now, I know I might not make it. Yes, the unexpected will happen. I most likely will be called in to work more often than I anticipated. But I have my best-case scenario set up.