~ 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.