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

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.
 

by Sue Lowell Gallion, Guest 24 Carrot Blogger
 
I really appreciate how 24 Carrot Writing reminds us to pay attention to both parts of our split personality – writer and author. I’ve focused primarily on my author side in the past year, with my debut picture book, PUG MEETS PIG (illustrated by the amazing Joyce Wan, published by Beach Lane Books/Simon & Schuster), releasing in September 2016 and a second Pug and Pig book, PUG & PIG TRICK-OR-TREAT, which came out July 25.
 
However, I don’t know that my writer self ever considered what it meant to market and promote a seasonal picture book, both for the publisher and the author. I think a lot of us as writers naturally gravitate toward plots that center on a holiday. Holidays are milestones in any child’s or family’s life, as well as our own. I remember holidays and traditions more vividly than the every day, whether it was choosing a Valentine for a boy in my third grade class that didn’t seem mushy (was “pease be my podner” over the top?) or “cooking” in my cousins’ toy kitchen with our hardboiled Easter eggs (until our parents found us. . . )
 
The inspiration for Pug and Pig’s Halloween adventure was my black lab mix’s reaction to the terrier next door dressed in a skin-tight, glow-in-the-dark Halloween costume. That’s not a story starter that works well with other settings. (However, an unexpected plus to the book has been hearing from parents of children with sensory issues that their kids relate to Pug’s dislike of his tight costume and his mask. That’s really exciting!)
 
But the marketing slot for a seasonal book, such as PUG & PIG TRICK-OR-TREAT, is really tight. In bookstores, Halloween books go on display after Labor Day, after Back to School peaks. Last year, I was in a bookstore on the morning of Oct. 31. Halloween was already packed up, replaced by Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Hanukah. Think of the February holidays – Groundhog Day, Valentine’s Day, the Presidents.  The peak time for story times or presentations using these books at schools, stores, and libraries is also less than six weeks.
 
My local librarians confirm that Halloween books, as well as other holiday books, are checked out all year long. My kids chose holiday picture books any time of the year, too. I probably can still recite most of CRANBERRY THANKSGIVING by Wende and Harry Devlin, and that isn’t because we read it only in November. Kids aren’t particularly concerned with the calendar versus how they respond to a particular book.
 
A seasonal book may be more attractive for guest blog posts, because bloggers like timely and topical posts. But once the holiday is past, promotion will likely seem out of place. In contrast, a birthday book or an afraid of the dark book, or any more universal theme or experience, can be promoted any time.
 
I’m having a ton of fun with the Halloween book, although this is a crazy six weeks.  Because Pug and Pig wear skeleton costumes, of course I hunted for a skeleton costume of my own. Finding something that wasn’t going to scare little kids turned out to be a challenge. It’s hard to find a friendly-looking skull. A skeleton apron seemed to be the best option. I start events without the apron on.  If the kids are really young, I may stick with orange and purple beads.
 
There’s always that tension between what we write and whether there might be a market for that manuscript. “Write what you love” doesn’t always match “there’s a place for that book on our list.” I’d be interested to know how many debut books actually are holiday books. My speculation is that a holiday book is more likely marketable after an author has other books out, or if it is a companion book or sequel featuring characters in an existing book.
 
Come November, I’ll be focusing more on my writer self. I plan to be more organized about goal setting for writing and revising as well as my author/business responsibilities.
However, as I make my way through this hectic October, I’ve rediscovered that candy corn is a fine carrot for me. And fortunately, it’s on the shelf all year long.

by Francine Puckly
 
Many of us are blessed with dedicated writing and creating spaces. The rest of us are not. Or maybe we are required to work in a difference place for a brief period of time or perhaps we’ve decided to go on a writer’s retreat. Regardless of the reason, it pays to have our projects organized for portability, whether we’re traveling to the living room, the library, or another state.
 
While I have a dedicated writing space (my bedroom), I often squeeze my writing in and around the rest of my family’s schedule. That could be at a baseball field, the dance school parking lot or the dentist’s office. I also love to sprawl out at parks or outdoor cafes on mild days, hunker down at the local library on rainy days, or get into a groove at the local bookstore while I tackle plot or character development issues.
 
Prior to this summer, I probably had an 80% success rate of packing the correct work material when I worked away from home. Sometimes I caught the oversights while still in the garage. But other times I would be settled at a library table when I discovered missing pieces. I knew this summer had to be different. I had to have a 100% success rate.
 
After an extensive knee reconstruction, my college-aged, working-in-Boston, can’t-drive-for-seven-weeks daughter would need me to taxi her—and wait for hours at a time—on a daily basis. It was unacceptable for me to be stranded somewhere waiting for her without the proper writing materials. But I also didn’t want to waste time packing, unpacking, and repacking my files—and worrying that I was forgetting something. There was way too much room for error with that system.
 
Order, complete order, was needed. I spent the better part of May organizing my electronic files and then turned my attention to my paper files. Every last piece of paper was filed. And my paper files mirrored my electronic files, so that items could be located quickly.
 
But to be truly portable, my paper files required the right equipment. After consulting internet resources and a few organizing books, I decided the tools required to make this happen were extra-capacity, reinforced hanging folders, manila (or decorative!) files, and a portable hanging file tote.

Switching between projects became a snap. All of my hanging files were organized the same way, and I could pop a file in or out of the tote.
 
The last step to peace of mind was establishing a list of all the little items that had to come along with me each day in a separate messenger bag. I “laminated” this list using packaging tape. Your list might look different than mine, but these were my essentials:

• Blue/black pens
• Index Cards
• Post-it Notes
• Wide-Ruled Composition Notebook
• Tissues
• Pain Reliever
• Water bottle
• Lunch/snacks
• Wallet
• Sunglasses
• Glasses
• Lip balm
• Sunscreen
• Umbrella
• Sweater for overzealous air-conditioning and/or jacket for rainy days
• Laptop, case, cords
• iPod/earbuds
• One magazine

 
While this level of detail might seem like overkill, I only had to create the list once. Each morning I scanned  my bag and checked off the list. I took the thinking out of packing and poured that energy into my manuscripts instead.
 
So if you’re taking your writing on the road, I hope these suggestions will help make your portable life stress-free! And happy writing…wherever the day may take you.
 
~ Francine

By Kelly Carey

A few years ago, I was at good friend’s wedding and I knew the bride was hoping for a packed dance floor. Three songs in and the parquet square was painfully empty. My husband grabbed my hand and said, “Come on, let’s get this party started.” I love to dance and I wanted my friend to have the wedding party she deserved. So we hit the dance floor.

Two twirls around and I lost my nerve. Twenty tables of ten times two eyes – you do the math – it was a lot of eyes and I could no longer hear the music. My feet became blocks of cement and every muscle in my body turned rigid. My husband was left trying to twirl a two by four stuck in a five-gallon drum of cement across the floor. I was a dance partner even Derek Hough could not successful spin around.

Our friends at table 4 laughed and waved, but no one joined us. The song mercifully ended and my dejected husband dragged his two by four wife back to her seat. We had failed. The party had clearly not started.

Why do I share this humiliating failure? And what does it have to do with writing?

The same thing can happen to your manuscript. You can have the best idea, set out onto that empty page completely ready, but a few paragraphs in you seize up, just like I did on that dance floor. Here is how it happens. You stop feeling the joy of your own creative energy and you let self-doubt and fear take over. Instead of using your magnificent imagination to conjure up characters, dialogue, and plot twists, you use all your creative energy generating negative comments by potential readers. You drown out the sound of your own writing melody and BAM – you’re a two by four: stiff, halting, and unable to let a single sentence flow across the page.
 
Pieces of lumber cannot write.

When you let the thought of how this agent, that editor, or that critique partner will react to every word, sentence, or paragraph, those imagined criticisms will interfere with the exuberance of your writing. Your writing needs to flow with energy and reckless abandon. Judgment is like a giant dam blocking off your writing. You need to bust through that dam. Take a few cleansing breaths and focus only on that positive creative voice in your head and then just write exactly what it tells you to write. That’s it. No judgment, no critique, no mocking friends at table 4, no cement, no two by fours; just you and the sound of your fingers tapping out brilliance across a keyboard.

I failed to fill the dance floor at my friend’s wedding because the other guests didn’t see a woman rocking out to her favorite song. Instead they saw my pain, discomfort and humiliation. Who would want to join in on that? If you want readers to share in the joy of your writing, you need to make the process joyful. Judgment and doubt are joy killers and they have no place in your early drafts. Write like you want a full dance floor. Ignore the tables of eyes, and just listen to your own creative music. Readers will come if they can feel the joy in your writing.

Deep breath.

Hear your music.

Go! Dance! Write!

By Kelly J. Carey


I took a bold step this year and decided not to attend the NE-SCBWI conference. I love this conference, and making the choice to miss out on inspiring lectures, helpful lessons, and the fun of communing with my fellow writer’s was not easy. But here is where I was mentally.

I was not lacking in inspiration. I had writing projects in various stages from tidy third and fourth drafts, to word files with a few phrases of an idea, to a synopsis lacking middle grade novel that were all waiting my time and attention.


I was not lacking in motivation. For months I had been drifting off to sleep thinking about those projects and waking up wondering if today would finally be the day I would find time to dig into them. Driving in the car, I’m thinking of one of those word files. Waiting for my son’s lacrosse practice to let out, I’m wondering about the third draft of a picture book. I have not lathered my hair in the shower in weeks without ruminating on a plot path of a new story.

My desk is piled with notebooks from prior conferences stuffed with craft improving handouts, epiphany inducing notes highlighted with stars, writing prompts that actually make my fingers itch, and sticky-note worthy quotes from authors and editors.

I had inspiration, motivation, and tips and tricks galore. What I lacked was activation.

I had fallen into the trap of talking and learning about my craft without actually practicing it. At a certain point, you need to take a break from learning and apply what you have learned. You need to write. So that is what I did this spring. I poured over those great notes and applied suggestions on voice, editing, and character to three picture book manuscripts. I employed those fantastic writing prompts to flush out characters and plot in two developing picture book ideas. I still need to write the synopsis for my middle grade novel, but now those motivational quotes feel more like congratulatory toasts.

Don’t be afraid to take a pause from learning.

I recommend that you shut your door, quiet your brain, and let yourself write. Relax and know that you have skills, that you have worked on your craft, that your mind is open and ready to be creative. Use all your time, energy, and focus to create.

The conferences, the lessons, the writing community will be there – but take a moment to just be you and your writing.  A productive pause, to apply all the knowledge that you have collected, can be the most rewarding conference you have ever attended.

You, your knowledge, and your desire to write – a private conference for three.

Have a great conference.

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