By Francine Puckly
 
While summertime can be filled with creative restoration, it can also be a time when many of us struggle to capture enough writing time. For those of us who work on larger projects, the summer holidays often disrupt our usual writing schedules. Visitors, vacations, and “bored” children requiring care and entertainment make focusing on larger projects practically impossible. But the summer months don’t necessarily mean we have to put our imaginations on hold. We just have to figure out how to create differently.
 
Carving out a few minutes each morning or evening to put pen to paper can keep the creative juices flowing throughout the summer. If you’d like to keep your writing going this summer but not sure your current project can handle the inevitable interruptions, here are 25 summer-y prompts to help you persevere! Pour a glass of lemonade (or sangria!), steal away to the back porch, and write as fast as you can. You might get a new idea, but at the very least you’ll keep the brain (and pen) moving!
 
25 Summer Writing Prompts

• The curtain billowed in the morning breeze. From my window, I could see...
• As the wave crashed on the shore, I noticed…
• The bell on the bike rang out in the still evening air...
• She grabbed my hand and yanked me toward the roller coaster…
• It took fifteen minutes, but finally Sue stood in front of the ice cream window. She stared at the 73 flavors and couldn’t make up her mind. The irritated customer behind her…
• Tracy stood at the entrance to her Aunt Mary’s backyard and surveyed the scene…
• It was the fourth time since noon she had had to sweep the sand from the kitchen floor…
• The bonfire crackled and...
• Joan picked up her sangria and dumped it in Jason’s lap…
• It wasn’t the first star she had seen that night but Nora decided to try her luck anyway…
• The bat swooped low and, to Kara’s amusement, entangled itself in Judith’s hideous beehive...
• Marcia grumbled. Whose idea was it to see the sunrise anyway?
• Dennis shouted hello as he walked into the kitchen. The house was dead quiet…
• Robert spotted the strawberry pie sitting on the counter and, seeing his wife asleep on the sofa,…
• Rebecca stood sixth in line at the convenience store. She was parched, covered in salt and sand, and overcome with the urge to throttle the whining child in front of her…
• Samantha ducked behind the stuffed animal display when her dad walked into the store wearing a garish Hawaiian shirt, plaid shorts and yellow flip-flops…
• The flowers dripped with morning dew as Peter carefully arranged them in the vase Mark had given him last September…
• Caroline sat back in her beach chair and gazed out over the choppy waves. She missed Andrea most when…
• Greg cupped the visor of his cap and stood motionless watching the bald eagle soar overhead. Unfortunately, he missed the crack of the bat and the fly ball heading straight for his head...
• Bridget was absolutely, positively the only girl from Rothschild Middle School going to the fireworks with her parents…
• Jeremy and Jacob tugged on the plastic bucket, each screaming he had it first.
• Little Jimmy Jenkins decided if Annie Culver could open her lemonade stand on his sidewalk, in front of his house, then he was going to set up an art gallery in front of hers…
• Arianna’s bikini strap had broken for the final time…
• Kyle sat down on the bench next to the fountain and uncapped his latte…
• By the time Nick had ducked into the hotel lobby, his bald spot was searing with pain and… 

 
Happy writing!
~ Francine

~By Amanda Smith

When I spend a day in a classroom as a substitute teacher, I always feel as if I’m the one learning something new. A couple of weeks ago, when I was elementary art teacher for the day, I was reminded of some very important writing truths.

The art teacher had left instructions for the Kindergarten class to add a few finishing touches to their art projects. When they were done, I dismissed them to “free draw.” All of them huddled around the big, round open studio table, grabbing scissors, glue, string, construction paper and markers. All except one boy. He clenched the Sharpie he had used for his art project tightly in his fist and asked if he could write a story instead.

“Go for it.” I said.

“The Troll Sbardee,” he wrote.

“The Troll Story,” I read.

“Oh, I got that right? I wasn’t sure,” he said.

“Well, actually, that’s not quite how you spell it, but when we write for fun, that doesn’t matter so much,” I said.

He beamed. Ah, a kindred spirit.

He went to work writing his sbardee, and I roamed the room, admiring art work, untangling balls of yarn,  and reminding kids not to run with scissors. Towards the end of the period my little writer came up to me, proudly waving a paper. Happy clusters of black Sharpie letters danced on both sides of the page.

“I finished!” he said. “I finished my story.”

“That’s wonderful. Will you read it to me?”

He held the paper in both his little hands and in a ceremonial voice, read his story of the princess troll. It was funny. It was action packed. And someone got eaten. It was perfect.

“That is a great story,” I said. “You have some interesting characters. I would love to see what they look like. Do you think you can draw a picture of them?”

He scrutinized me, with a most serious little face. And then he said, “This is a word story. This is not a story for pictures. I don’t have time for that.”
 
Lessons learned, dear fellow writers:
 1. Write for fun! Get the story on the page in happy word clusters. You’ll have plenty of time during the revision stage to worry about spelling, sentence structure, arc, pacing, and all those other academic things. But first, just enjoy the act of creating.

2. Know what you’re writing. You might not know what you are creating when you start, but sometime during the process, ask the important questions.

• What genre am I writing?
• Who is my audience?
• What is the heart of my story?

3. Stick to your guns. Critique partners are gifts from heaven. Great feedback can place you squarely on the right track. But ultimately, you know what you want to accomplish, and where you want your story to go. Suggestions are just that. Make sure to stay true to your vision.

4. Manage your time wisely.
​
But mostly. Have fun writing those sbardees!

By Annie Cronin Romano

Two weekends ago, I went on a writing retreat with three of the four members of my writing group. It had been 20 months since our last one, and planning this one had been a challenge. From nailing down a weekend when all four of us could go (obviously we didn’t succeed there) to finding an affordable, comfortable place to work distraction-free, there were several obstacles to overcome. But it was important to us, as a group, to do this. Why do this? You ask. Good question. 

1. There are no “home life” distractions. No one feels compelled to do the laundry, or clean the bathrooms, or rake the yard. Your kids can’t suddenly ask for a ride to the movies. It’s just you and your writing.

2. There are no (or far fewer) time constraints. You don’t have to stop writing in fifteen minutes to prepare dinner for the family or do the grocery shopping. This unrestricted time can free up your creativity and get the ideas flowing.

3. You’re not alone. There’s a group mentality to help maintain focus. You’re all there together for one purpose. I’m a fairly disciplined person, but even I admit that I would be tempted to lounge around, sleep late, read a book, or surf the web if it was just me on a writing weekend. Sure, I’d write. Just maybe not as intensely as I do with others around me who are focused on their work. Having fellow writers with you creates an accountability you might not have if you’re alone.

4. Even the breaks are productive. When we get up to make tea, grab a snack, or just stretch for a few minutes, we often use that time to bounce ideas off each other. We ask each other questions about plot, word choice, and characterization. When writing alone, that’s not possible. But when you’re with fellow writers, you can tap into each other’s writing strengths and knowledge.

All the members of my writing group write fairly consistently at home. But we recognize that doing this intense write-in retreat really helps us get a significant amount of writing accomplished. A group writing retreat can rejuvenate your writing, whether you use it to brainstorm story ideas, plot a novel, revise a story, or free write to move your creativity into high gear. So round up some writing colleagues and organize a retreat of your own. And let 24 Carrot Writing know how it goes! 

~Annie

​by Francine Puckly

​I am pleased to host an interview with author and writing colleague, Nancy Tupper Ling. Nancy’s books for adults include the poetry collections, Coming Unfrozen and Character, and, for those of you at a loss for the right words on special occasions, Toasts: The Perfect Words to Celebrate Every Occasion. Her picture books include Double Happiness, The Story I’ll Tell, and My Sister, Alicia May. Nancy is the founder of Fine Line Poets (www.finelinepoets.com) and winner of the prestigious Writer’s Digest Grand Prize and the Pat Parnell Poetry Award. Nancy and I had the chance to catch up this past winter, and in honor of Mother’s Day I wanted to talk a little bit more about her most recent picture book, The Story I’ll Tell.
 
Thank you, Nancy, for joining me for this interview!
 
The Story I’ll Tell is a tale of a mother and how she will share her child’s arrival with her family. You said in a recent conversation that this book is much more than a story about adoption. What is the heart of The Story I’ll Tell? What readers, beyond adoptive families, will enjoy this story?
 
The idea for this story came to me in a daydream as I was driving along the highway. I had an image of a child arriving on a family’s doorstep in a basket, and I began to wonder what kinds of stories a parent would tell that child about how he came into their lives. Gradually it grew into an adoption story, but I hope it reaches all families. When I sign a book for a child, I often write “for all the stories you’ll tell.” Everyone has a family story or two, and sharing these stories draws us closer.
 
Did you interact with the illustrator for this book, and, if so, what was your working relationship?
 
Typically publishers like to keep the author and illustrator apart during the creation of the book. This way the author doesn’t try to influence the illustrator’s work. That said, I love connecting with my illustrators along the way. Shortly before our book was about to launch, Jessica Lanan and I found each other on social media. Now I bring some of her storyboard sketches with me when I visit schools to show a bit of her process as well as my own.
 
Tell us a little bit about the process of working with your editor. How long did The Story I’ll Tell take, from start to finish, once it was acquired by Lee & Low Books?
 
I like to think of The Story I’ll Tell as one of those “gift” stories. Surprisingly, it didn’t require much revision, and I believe Lee & Low was the first publisher to see it. With my book Double Happiness, I revised and submitted many, many times. The whole thing took about ten years! So my experience with The Story I’ll Tell was very different. My agent, Ammi-Joan Paquette, told me she’d found a new editor at Lee & Low in July 2013. Shortly after that, I was in the middle of a California conference called Build a Better Book when I got the good news. It had been accepted. I worked with my editor, Jessica Echeverria, but the edits were minimal. It was a little over two years after signing with Lee & Low that it was published (November 2015)—right in time for National Adoption Day.

By Kelly Carey

I love to celebrate the successes of my fellow writers and here is why.

I could stand in an empty field in a thunderstorm and wait for lightening to strike. But that sounds lonely and scary.  Instead, I’d rather connect with a vibrant group of writers and let the collective friction of our creative energy fire off a spark.

When that happens, I want to be connected – to the writer, to their creative process, and hopefully to their manuscript. After all, I don’t want that spark to have to jump very far.

 Think of a circle of writers holding hands, or a football team huddled with their arms slung over each other’s backs – think how easily that electric spark will flow from one writer to the next when we are that connected.

So how do we connect?

We connect at conferences when we chat about craft. We build deeper connections when we form a critique group or take a workshop together.  These moments offer opportunities not only to nurture our own writing journey, but to nurture the process of another writer.  And to really and truly connect, you have to really and truly nurture.  That means that when you hear a writer doubting their work after a harsh critique, you offer encouragement.  When you read about a new agent looking for a project that describes a manuscript a writing partner shared, you shoot them an email. When you have taken a workshop that was helpful, you spread the word. When your critique partner asks you to read a manuscript, you offer your best and most complete feedback.
 
Your job is to propel every manuscript you touch forward on the road to publication. Yes, I said every manuscript.  If you read it – you own it. Give your best feedback, your best advice, and then encourage the revisions and the submissions. Keep that writer on the path. If you bump into them and they have stalled in the process, fire them up again. Challenge them to set writing goals, and help them stick to them.  Tell them to join the 24 Carrot Writing Facebook group (shameless self-promotion).

When you have done this, then you get to celebrate the success of fellow writers.  If you have encouraged them in a moment of doubt, given them a pep talk after a harsh rejection, offered constructive feedback on a manuscript, then you have been a part of their success and you will look forward to the day that they are a part of yours.

So, when we hear that a writing friend sold a manuscript – we jump for collective joy!

~By Amanda Smith

​​November 22, 2016. For real! If your household is anything like mine, you are probably in the middle of pie making, turkey prepping, house cleaning, and all things Thanksgiving. I love this time of year. It has pie! But also, it is a time to reflect on all the good in my life, all the things that fill my heart with gratitude. And as a writer, my soul sings its very own list of writing thank yous.

I am thankful for books. Physical paper and ink books. The feeling of a book in my hands. The rustle of the pages. The dusty, inky smell. The covers. The words. The negative space. The illustrations. Thank you for books!

​I am thankful for readers of said books. For fellow book lovers. For children piled on couches, spilled on carpets, sprawled in bean bags, reading, giggling, and delighting in books.

I am thankful for writers of books and their fabulous stories, both on page and in real life. My heart overflows with gratitude for the greater writing community, for the support and education they offer. SCBWI, The Writer’s Loft, Unlikely Story, Blue Bunny Books and Toys, local libraries, online groups, workshops, craft talks, meet-ups, book clubs: Countless opportunities to grow, learn, connect, and share.

I am thankful for agents who stay up ‘till the wee hours of the night to read through thousands of queries and countless manuscripts, who represent their clients with integrity, and who generously offer advice and help. Thanks for having our backs. I am thankful for editors who are industry gatekeepers. Thank you for your passion to bring quality books to young readers. Thank you for pushing us to write our very best.

I am thankful for my writer inner-circle: My fellow 24 Carrot Writers and my critique partners. Thank you for your honesty, accountability, and faith in my writing ability when I don’t feel it. Thank you for coaxing me out of my comfort zone and inspiring me to be brave with your own stories of bravery. I am thankful for my husband who supports me on this crazy adventure, who gives me the space to follow the stories in my head, and who gently prods me when I procrastinate.

I am thankful for the lessons learned upon this road: Lessons about submissions, synopsis writing, formatting, new software. Lessons about digging deeper, setting goals, upping the ante, balance, characters, and story arcs. Lessons about my voice, my growth, and who I am.

I am thankful for creativity, imagination and STORY. For the empathy and understanding that grows through sharing stories. I am thankful for hope: the hope that our stories will help shape and grow children into healthy, compassionate, confident adults. The hope that imagination will always have its place in a pragmatic world.  The hope that one day my stories will touch a child’s heart.

At 24 Carrot Writing, we are also thankful for you!

What are you thankful for?

Happy Thanksgiving all! 

by Francine Puckly
 
For a few years now, I’ve been contemplating hopping on the NaNoWriMo bandwagon. I’ve held off for a number of reasons. First, I compose my initial drafts longhand, pen to paper, which makes tracking word count a bit tricky. Second, it’s No-School-November, a month in which school administrators conspire against writers by slotting in numerous half days or complete days off for everything from parent-teacher conferences to elections to holidays. The final reason, not to be taken lightly, is that immersing myself in an international phenomenon with social media chats, blogs, and the like would most likely make me less productive when I hear that hundreds or thousands of other people are writing faster than I am.
           
That said, I had been researching my next book on and off for six months and had muddled over the plots, subplots, characters and setting. I was ready to tackle the next novel, and I desperately wanted to have a large chunk of the book on paper before the holiday season hit. There were no good excuses not to dive in.

I decided to customize a NaNoWriMo challenge. As a longhand writer, I determined how many pages I could write in one day. I created a monthly calendar with the goals written in, first by week then by day, with an overarching monthly goal as well. Those goals were all well and good, but I knew I couldn’t go it alone. I’ve tried that. When things get tough, I fall off the writing. First one day. Then another. Then another.
           
Instead, enter my accountability partner. Now, I probably should have asked her first before I made her my partner, but since we’ve been having weekly phone chats and setting goals together for three or four years, she gladly accepted the appointed position. I asked nothing of her except to receive daily texts stating that I had completed that day’s goal.
           
Only eight days into my challenge, her presence has saved my writing day three or four times already. My energy is flagging. Small (and big) crises that have hit my life this week would have been excuses to adjust my goals. But my accountability to her is priceless. She responds to every text, congratulating me, encouraging me to keep going. It’s a beautiful thing to be on this journey with her.  
           
If you have aggressive goals for a future project, don’t go it alone. Ask a trusted colleague to be your accountability partner. Everyone benefits from having a cheerleader who understands the game. And the flip side of that, offer to be someone else’s rock for their project.
           
​Hold someone’s hand. Or ask someone to hold yours. You’ll be amazed at the “impossible” things you will accomplish when someone’s waiting for you to check in.
 
Francine

​By Francine Puckly

Beginnings. Everyone loves a good beginning. And, no. I’m not talking about the beginning of your novel or picture book, the one the reader sees. I’m leaving that to Annie.(hook-em-into-your-book.html) I’m talking about when you begin anew: take on that new challenge, go after that dream or bucket list item that’s been nagging at you for months or years, or start that new manuscript that you know, deep in your soul, is what you’re supposed to be writing next.
 
Launching a new project makes us both a little scared and dizzy with excitement. The energy is electrifying.
           
For a little while, anyway.
 
But when the meat of the work begins—when you take inventory of the skills you currently lack, but must acquire in order to bring the project or endeavor to fruition—the energy wanes and you are left with the sobering reality that you don’t have a clue what you’re doing. It takes courage to continue when we inevitably falter along the path.
 
I began four new and intimidating projects all in the same week this fall. What fanfare! Bands played, banners waved, and confetti rained down on me as I sprinted toward my figurative playing fields. But that only lasted a few weeks. Because what I did was begin a new historical fiction novel (something I said I would never do because "I don’t know how to write historical fiction”); took on a sewing project for which I have no skills, no pattern and no training; started alto saxophone lessons which has included trying out various reeds and mouthpieces, none of which sound like music but rather just ear-piercing noise and squeaks; and signed up for a Ladies’ Tap dance class when I’ve never danced a jig in my life. The “good for you!” enthusiasm from family, friends and other spectators only carries you so far. At some point you realize, “I really stink.” And the next thought might be, “Maybe this was a bad idea.” Followed quickly by, “Maybe I should quit.”
 
Energy ebbs and flows. And now that it has ebbed big time, I’ve pondered the following questions: How can we sustain projects when we’re fearful of the next steps and doubt our ability to finish? How do we stare down our fear and intimidation and increase our odds of sticking with a project when the going gets tough? 
 
Here are a few suggestions I’ve put into play.
1. Pull the fear into positive action. I’ve become an expert at recognizing my fear. It makes daily appearances in the form of procrastination, edginess or looking for a quick fix elsewhere such as social media, online shopping, chocolate or whatever else will take away what I’m feeling. One of the quickest ways for me to wrestle it to the ground is to set my timer. For 8, 10, 15 or 20 minutes or whatever, I say, “Don’t think. Just do.” I race toward one unsavory task that I’ve been kicking forward with the clock ticking.
 
2. Care for yourself.
Wait. What did I just say? Yep, that’s right. Take proper care of yourself physically and mentally. You can’t continue a project if you run yourself into the ground with negative self-talk, or by skipping balanced meals, proper hydration, sleep and exercise. Because this is the first thing out the window for me, I have to track it daily in writing. If I stop tracking, I stop doing. “Have you been walking, Francine?” is the first thing my 24 Carrot family asks me when I’m in a mental and physical slump. It’s rhetorical, of course, because we all know the answer.
 
3. Seek out support from trusted sources.
A shoulder to cry on is essential. Those cheerleaders in life must be sought out and embraced when you are tackling something new. Likewise, don’t trust a naysayer with what little energy you have left on a project. Pause before confiding. Will this person be helpful or just convince you to quit?  
 
4. Sometimes it’s okay to quit.
What?! Yes, it is okay as long as you quit for the right reasons. Sometimes this means quitting entirely, like I did with the afore-mentioned sewing project. After spending nearly 8 hours on it one day, I wasn’t even close to being done. It was going to be expensive from a financial standpoint, and even more importantly, it was going to be costly from a time standpoint. I decided I would rather write than sew. So I called my favorite seamstress and let her take over. Someday she’ll read my book, and someday I’ll happily sit on her cushions. It’s a win-win for both of us because we’re both doing what we love. Other times we only “sorta” quit. Like I did with a novel a few years back. I loved my characters but after three drafts, I hated the actual story. I knew the project didn’t hold enough joy for me to spend another year or more revising and rewriting until it was polished. So I lassoed those characters and superimposed them into a new plot! Problem solved. I kept what I loved and abandoned the rest.
 
I’m by no means out of the woods with my three remaining projects. Days when my fear is front and center are exceptionally hard. That’s when I try my best to focus on the basics—respect myself mentally and physically, reach out to friends, and set the timer and force myself to complete something. Anything.
 
Whatever new project you’re venturing into, take your fear with you but be sure to keep it on a short leash. Throw a few of these tools in your hip pocket and keep going!
​
~ Francine

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