By Kelly Carey

I don’t have a great singing voice. A high school choir teacher once told me that if I agreed to go to study hall instead of his class, he’d give me an A. My family begs me not sing around birthday cakes, and I mouth the words to hymns in church because I’m pretty sure God would prefer it that way.

I’m shushing my voice.

If I did this in writing, my stories either wouldn’t exist, or they’d come out flat and false and would never resonate with any reader, anywhere, ever. And yet, much like I have learned to hide my voice when it comes to singing, I think many of us have been taught to silence our voice when it comes to writing.

It happens gradually like a drip, drip, dripping until our unique way of speaking, of phrasing things, of reacting, and arranging words drowns under 20,000 leagues of edits from teachers, society, peers, and finally our own internal critic.

I do understand the idea that you need to know the rules of good writing before you can break them. We wipe out slang and colloquialism for proper grammar and impressive SAT level vocabulary. Academic writing peels out the voice of the unique individual and cushions it with research, and MLA formatting, and data, and flow charts, and the desire to match a professor’s rubric.

​Society and peers place expectations on us that can alter our voice so that we comply with popular opinions, norms, and accepted practices. Layer over that our fear of sharing our inner thoughts; concerns that our experiences and feelings are solo outliers; a belief that no one would understand;  and a dread that our voice might be met with raised eyebrows, confused stares, or worse and BAM we mouth the words instead of writing them down.

I think we are all born with these beautiful voices, but somewhere along the line, we zip our lips and head to study hall.

The gifted writers in our community don’t go to study hall – they sing LOUD! They don’t worry about a choir teacher giving them an F, a chuckle at a birthday party, or the way the guy’s neck hair in front of them in church stands on end – they just let their writing voice sing.

Examine what happens in that split second of time between a thought popping into your head and the thought becoming words on a page. How much pummeling does it take before you write it down? Do you hear your high school English teacher? Are you thinking about how your mother will react? Worried about what a co-worker will think? Are you editing it for an agent, editor, or potential reader? All this before it makes it to the page and suddenly your wonderful true to you thought is a diluted pile of boring mush.

The idea that you should dance like no one is watching, sing like no one is listening – it’s not quite as easy to apply when it comes out write like no one is reading. Let’s flip it to say: write like everyone wants to read! 
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Write loud in your voice! No need to go to study hall – you got this! And we want to hear it! 

by Annie Cronin Romano

Most writers keep a pen and paper handy to record story ideas when inspiration strikes. You see something that captures your imagination or overhear a phrase that causes your writing detector to go on high alert, and you quickly scribble it down. Perhaps you write it a in a small notepad, or maybe you jot it down on a napkin or placement. You may even write it on your hand if there’s no paper available. I have done all of those things. Sometimes I tear out a newspaper article that has sparked a story idea or print out a news story or photograph that made my writing radar start beeping. Eventually, most writers have a folder or notebook stuffed with scraps of paper—a collection of golden story nuggets waiting to be mined for their potential. 

But when you finally cull through those ideas, it can be a daunting task. I recently decided to take on my “idea folder.” I took it out of my file cabinet and placed it on my desk. Where it sat. Staring at me. Cruelly. Mockingly, even. 

Then one day I was out browsing in a home store and spotted a display of home office supplies. As a writer, desk and stationary supplies are like candy to me, so I walked over to explore. There, on top of the pile of journals, was a hard cover spiral notebook with the words “BIG IDEAS” (typed in extremely small print, ironically) on the cover. It was fate.

I bought the notebook and took it home to introduce it to my idea folder. Big Ideas notebook, meet Idea Folder. Idea Folder, I love you, but you’re a mess. Meet Big Ideas notebook.

​I went through my scraps of idea notes and, one by one, began writing those sparks at the top of each notebook page. I left the rest of the page blank. One idea per page with the blank page below for brainstorming. As I have time, I open to a page, read the idea at the top, and brainstorm story thoughts, plots, characters...anything that comes to mind. Sometimes it’s a doodle. Sometimes it’s a list. Sometimes it’s a diagram or several sentences. Whatever it takes to play with the idea and see what potential stories I can tease out of it. This notebook system keeps my ideas in one space, like a folder, but organized for easy access with blank space for development. It has become the garden where I plant my story seeds and then tend to them to see what sprouts. 
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So go buy yourself a notebook for your Big Ideas--you know you love shopping for office supplies! Maybe even get some colorful pens to add to the joy! Then organize those randomly scattered idea gems into the notebook. Remember, just one per page. And let the brainstorming begin! Who knows where those sparks will take you. You may get a new story blazing before you know it!

~By Amanda Smith
 
“This year’s felt like
Four seasons of winter
And you'd give anything
To feel the sun”   
- Reason (Unspoken)
 
When I first heard the opening of this song by Unspoken, everything in me cried, “YES! THIS!”

This year brought more unexpected changes and interruptions to my writing life than any before: unexpected travel, lovely visitors, a left hand immobilized for four months due to a broken wrist, and an extended stint as a long-term substitute teacher. Now, it isn’t all bad.
But it is all busy.  

I’m not about to throw a pity party (been there, done that), but I do want to address the reality of months, or years, not turning out the way we anticipated when we first set those shiny New Year’s writing goals.

There had been times like this in my life before, where I couldn’t find space for creativity or writing due to The Urgent pulling at me. There had been years where I had walked away from writing. And the return had been slow and laborious.

This year, amid Nor’easters of life pummeling me, I was resolved. This year, unlike other stormy times, I’d kept my one hand on my writing.

In order to do that, I had to adjust my goals. I am not pushing to finish my novel before the end of the year as I had planned. I am working on smaller projects that can endure interruption with more grace, such as querying and research, revisions on picture books, writing poetry and other shorter pieces. I keep moving forward, even if it is at a snail’s pace.

I keep learning, thinking and observing. I spent most of my immobilized summer reading mentor texts, new publications, and craft books.

I keep active in my writing community. The mere fact that I have a critique group expecting a manuscript from me, drives me to write, or revise. Giving feedback on their work, keeps my head in the game. Connecting with other writers at events, invigorates me, and reminds me of who I am amid the blizzards. And meeting with my monthly accountability group, keeps me setting and checking off teeny-tiny-but-moving-forward-goals.
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I keep making space to create.
So coming back will be easier.
So I won’t let go forever.
Because Spring will come.

~Guest blog by Angela Burke Kunkel

When you think of a picture book being read, what--- or more precisely, who--- do you see? A child snug on the lap of a beloved parent or grandparent? A teacher, perched on the edge of a tiny classroom chair, reading aloud to a rapt class seated criss-cross-applesauce on the rug? A toddler, alone in their room during quiet time, studiously turning the pages and reciting a favorite book from memory?

Or is the audience . . . you?
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Sometimes, in our journey to become writers, we study so much advice and so many mentor texts and blog posts and craft books that we lose sight of our own voice, our own relationship with books, our own relationship with words.

We write for children, after all, many of us in a particular genre or format. Picture books present their own unique set of challenges, with the industry standard of 32 pages and that ever-fluctuating “sweet spot” for word count. And, of course, you have other considerations: room for the illustrator. The child. The reader. It can be enough to crowd out why you’re doing this in the first place.

And, selfishly, it is okay if that’s you.
 
Allow me to back up for a moment: In my daily professional life, I work as a teacher-librarian in a school that serves grades seven through twelve. My entire career, I’ve only worked with tweens and teens--- never with elementary or preschool-aged children (and, may I just say, bless those early childhood and elementary educators). When social conversations wind their way round to writing, teens and even other adults often express surprise that I don’t write YA. After all, that’s who I interact with on a daily basis. And there is incredible work for young adults out there. I love reading it and talking about it, especially with young people.

But it isn’t what my brain reaches for right now, emotionally or structurally, in terms of my own writing.  As someone who wanted to write novels for a very long time--- and never, ever finished a complete draft--- I found myself circling back to picture books. As I rediscovered them through my own young children, and through using them in classroom instruction with middle and high schoolers, I realized I also enjoyed them for my own aesthetic reasons. I loved how wordless titles felt like a silent movie unfolding. I loved the deceptive simplicity of clever refrains or circular structures. I loved the lyrical language and pacing of others, as metaphorical and gorgeous as any Mary Oliver poem. And yes, I’d read them with a child snuggled on my lap, or to a classroom of students (albeit at tables, not criss-cross-applesauce), but the aesthetic experience was a personal response for me. And eventually, I found myself reading them . . . by myself. When I had the itch to write after many years away from it, I allowed myself to consider the possibility of picture books.

As Ann Whitford Paul notes in Writing Picture Books, picture book form is unique because they are books written for people who cannot yet read, “usually read by an adult reader to a nonreader . . . The pictures are there to entice the nonreader to listen and also help construct meaning from the words.” And she’s right, but I also think as writers we can expand our vision beyond that, while still respecting it. After all, aren’t all good stories, regardless of form, about the experience of constructing meaning?

While it’s important to write with your primary audience in mind, remember that you can also have multiple audiences. I’d encourage aspiring writers to not only focus on how children might experience their book, but teens and adults as well. There are so many books I have used or want to use at the high school level--- from Faith Ringgold’s Tar Beach to Yuyi Morales’s Dreamers. Seeing teens, often stereotyped as cynical or disaffected, engaged in a picture book with the same wide-eyed wonder as a kindergartener reminds me that these stories serve a purpose for everyone. We just need to allow for that possibility.
 
So my challenge to you is this--- when you’re writing, and especially during those free writes and first drafts--- allow yourself to let go of that image of the lapsit reader or the elementary classroom. Disregard that editor voice in your brain that questions things like appropriateness and marketability and Lexile level. And, just for a little while, allow yourself to play. Swim around in words that make you feel like you’re engaging in a beautiful piece of language that isn’t cataloged “E” because it’s Easy. It’s “E” because it’s for everyone. And maybe, in that space of openness and play, you just might surprise yourself (and ultimately, your reader) with something beautiful.
           
Bio: 
Angela Burke Kunkel's debut picture book, DIGGING FOR WORDS: JOSÉ ALBERTO GUTIÉRREZ AND THE LIBRARY HE BUILT (illustrated by Paola Escobar and published by Random House/Schwartz & Wade) releases in Fall 2020. In addition to being an author, Angela works full time as a school librarian. She is a graduate of Simmons College in Boston, Massachusetts. Angela is represented by Liza Fleissig at the Liza Royce Agency. You can contact her here. You can also connect on Twitter and Instagram.

​When I was 5 years old, just around the same age as the boy and the girl from A NEW HOME, my mom and dad had some big news for my brother and me. My dad had been accepted to a prestigious medical school in Stockholm, Sweden! This, of course, meant we had to move. Truthfully, I was scared, I had never even heard about this place before, and I didn’t fully understand what moving really implied. All I knew was that I would be leaving everyone and everything I loved behind, and that I was going to miss my home very much.  Nevertheless, we left soon after that, but something happened that I wasn’t expecting at all. I loved it! I quickly fell in love with Sweden, with the people, the food, and everything about it really, and in no time, I felt right at home. I had the opportunity to experience incredible new things that wouldn't have happened if I’d never moved to a different country. We lived there for three years and then we moved back to Mexico City, but I still cherish those years I called Sweden my home. 
 
When I graduated from high school, I really wanted to study art or design. I knew I wanted to have that experience of living in a different country again, so I applied to different schools across the United States. And this time, I got accepted to an incredible design school in New York City! I was thrilled!  When I arrived, I fell in love with the city: its sparkling energy, its incredibly diverse people, and how there was something new to discover every single day. 
 
From these experiences of moving around, I realized that no matter where I found myself, I could make that place my home. I learned so much from living in different countries and I am so grateful for that. It really opened my eyes and helped me realize that I should always be willing to try new things, no matter how scary they might seem at first. With this idea, I started writing A NEW HOME. 

Now, a funny thing happens when we move to a different country: our experience living abroad actually connects us on a very deep and emotional level to our home country.  Things you’ve taken for granted before suddenly become so precious, and you start seeing them with a different mindset. While living in NYC, I started reminiscing all the things I loved about my home city. The sounds, the smells, the food, and the people. All these things that make up a city, and what actually makes each place so wonderfully unique. There were so many things about Mexico that I wanted to share. And to tell you the truth, NYC reminded me of Mexico City in so many ways. So, you could say that this book is a love letter dedicated to these two magnificent cities I’ve had the honor of calling home and an effort to help others see them for what they truly are.

​On a final note, another incredible thing I was able to experience while living in different countries was meeting people from all over the world. While I was living in Sweden I went to an international school, so I had friends from Kenya, England, Australia, Iran, Israel, Poland, Finland, India, USA, you name it. It was amazing! I was able to learn so much from all my friends. And since NYC is one of the most diverse cities in the world, I met amazing people there as well. Because of this, I learned that that no matter where any of us come from, we’re really not that different. So, even though the boy and the girl from A NEW HOME grew up in completely different cultures and circumstances, they are experiencing the same fears and emotions—which serves to show that in the end, we are all just humans.

Bio:
Tania studied fashion design at Parsons School of Design in New York City and finished her studies in her home country of Mexico. Her work as a costume designer in film and television has helped to better grasp the art of storytelling through images. She uses a variety of media in her work, such as watercolor, gouache, color pencils, wax pastels and ink to create richly textured, engaging images.

Visit Tania's website: https://taniaderegil.com/

Tania’s American debut picture books , A New Home, and Un Nuevo Hogar, are available from the following vendors:
Indiebound: 
https://www.indiebound.org/book/9781536201932
Barnes&Noble:
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-new-home-tania-de-regil/1129102613?ean=9781536201932
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/un-nuevo-hogar-tania-de-regil/1129102661?ean=9781536206753
Amazon:
https://www.amazon.com/New-Home-Tania-Regil/dp/1536201936/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=A+new+Home+Tania+de+regil&qid=1565288619&s=books&sr=1-1
https://www.amazon.com/nuevo-hogar-Spanish-Tania-Regil/dp/153620675X/ref=sr_1_2?keywords=A+new+Home+Tania+de+regil&qid=1565288619&s=books&sr=1-2

~ By Amanda Smith

Earlier this month, I found myself again as substitute teacher in the art room, but this time with middle school students. They were in the process of painting an impressionist landscape. What I encountered, though, was hesitancy. They were so afraid that they were going to mess up their pictures by experimenting with this new style, that even after explaining and demonstrating multiple times, most students still opted to mix solid colors on their palettes and apply flat, texture-less paint to their canvasses.

I recognized that anxiety of “messing up a picture.” I felt that many times as an art student myself and have vivid memories of an art teacher dipping my brush in the bright red and yellow paint of my neighbor’s palette and brushing thick globs of primary colors on my super-careful shades-of-blue painting. I was crushed, and furious, and traumatized by the experience for years. But now, I can see that she tried to push me, in the true spirit of the Impressionists, towards experimenting. To stop resisting change. To be brave. To play.

For interesting short videos on Monet's Waterloo Series, visit WAM's website here. 
For more Waterloo Bridge images, click here.

by Francine Puckly
 
As the Summer Solstice approaches, my mind is churning with a multitude of thoughts and emotions about growth, new beginnings, and the constructive criticism that can derail or redirect our endeavors. I’m excited about the idea that in ancient times the Summer Solstice was once considered the New Year and was both an opportunity to break out of one’s normal routine and a time of merriment and celebration. In present time, the Solstice is roughly the halfway point of the year. A marking of time. A marking of our goals.  And for a few of my colleagues, it’s a marking of delayed projects as a result of rejection or requested revisions by industry professionals and critique partners. How we deal with these requests and setbacks will determine how well we stay on track to meet our goals this year. 

A few years ago, my daughter ran for office in a student organization she had been part of for several years. In the days leading up to the election results, she had convinced herself that she had lost the election and mentally prepared for the deep and complete humiliation that would inevitably come when her loss was revealed. The morning the election results were to be announced, I asked her how she was feeling. She shrugged. “You know? I’m gonna be okay.” As it turned out, she didn’t lose the election for that particular officer position. But another classmate lost in a different race. This classmate was not prepared to lose and was ill-equipped to gracefully handle the results. Lifelong friendships ended that day. The student resigned from the organization. What had once been a source of great joy for the student quickly turned to poison. Someone needed to tell her, "You know? It's gonna be okay."

Which brings us to publishing and the art of critique and rejection, dear writers. How many times have we received hurtful, soul-wrenching rejections of our work or unanticipated requests for manuscript changes and were tempted to throw it all away? Or we hear of another artist’s success and fume at the injustice? In some cases, if we can be objective, we can see that the artist’s manuscript or project had more potential than what we had offered. Sometimes the other person’s idea is more unique, more fully developed, more polished. Other times we feel cheated. We can burn bridges and claim the world is out to get us. Or if we’re smart, we learn what to do differently so that next time we can win. Sometimes, for whatever reason, it just isn’t our time.
            
With all this summering and raining and shining, the growing season is upon us. And all gardeners know that momentous growth springs forth after a significant pruning. And we can respond by pruning words and tightening our manuscripts and possibly even pruning our egos as we realize we have more to learn.  At this time of great light and idleness, try to approach your projects with enlightenment and consciousness with respect to what needs to be done to move forward. If you’re reeling from the pain of rejection or harsh criticism, look for ways to celebrate the joys of the creative life. Hone your craft with the help of how-to books while you dig your toes in the freshly mown lawn. Attend workshops and free lectures. Stop by book launches to support your fellow artists and learn how authors and illustrators interact with their audiences. Read blog posts and memoirs written by authors who were “elected” this year and try to figure out how to apply their successes to your own words and journey.

Regardless of the origination of Summer Solstice celebrations, a plethora of fire and sun rituals across ancient cultures celebrated light. And in noting lightness, we will be able to release burdens, doubts, and fears. Oh, and rejection.

Now go. Be happy. Bask and grow in the warmth of the sun.

~ Francine

​~by Amanda Smith
 
When I was a little girl, my father would take my brother and me to the Pretoria Public Library every other week, where we could each check out two books. I would tightly hug my books against my chest as we crossed the busy street, skipped up the wide steps, and entered the grand red granite building through enormous oiled teak doors.
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​As the Thanksgiving holiday approaches and our last-minute preparation lists grow from one or two quickly scribbled Post-its into full-fledged Gantt charts, 24 Carrot Writing would like to take this opportunity to thank all of you for joining us on the creative journey—for sharing the twists and turns of the creative life on a road scattered with goals and carrots! This week, may you claim snatched moments of solitude amidst family, friends and feasts in order to pamper yourself, write or sketch a little something just for fun, or maybe just have a quiet chat with a family member you see all too infrequently (and who might have an interesting story to tell if asked the right questions!).

We are thankful to have such warm, supportive individuals who cheer us on and share the highs and lows of the writing and illustrating journey.  Thank you!

Happy Thanksgiving from all of us!
Francine, Annie, Kelly and Amanda