WELL-ROUNDED CHARACTERS

For the past few months, I’ve been doing workshops at Writopia Lab. As a published author, I’m supposed to be the leader. But I learn as much as I teach.

Click here for more info about Writopia!

One young writer wrote a piece in which a woman fell in love with a passionate composer. The woman was supposed to marry another man who was more practical. I assumed the young writer wouldn’t care much about the boring guy. I was wrong. The young writer said that she actually liked that character. She could see the good in him. I was the one who had succumbed to a preconceived notion.

Any piece of writing is much more interesting if the characters are a mix of likeable and disagreeable traits. Then something surprising can happen. Those unexpected twists are what readers crave.

In my first novel, Nature Girl, I wrote about a girl who was mad at her family. That provided a lot of the humor, but some readers wondered if she had to be quite so angry. Maybe she didn't have to fight with her family all the time?

When I started writing my new book, The Desperate Adventures of Zeno and Alya, I fell into a similar trap. My amazing editor Liz Szabla helped me find ways to enrich the relationships. The novel is much stronger because there's real affection between Dr. Agard and his parrot Zeno, even though Zeno still believes his owner is his servant.

I can’t help but think that I need to apply this lesson to people I meet. I live in New York City--I’m going to get annoyed. (Don’t get me started on the people who throw trash on the subway tracks!) But wouldn’t we all be better off, as writers and readers and children and parents, if we treated everybody as well-rounded characters?

What's in a Name?

WHAT’S IN A NAME?

The girl spoke angrily to me. “Don’t change my name!”

Luckily it was only a dream. But when I woke up the next morning, I felt so badly. Maybe I shouldn't have changed that character's name after all. 

It seemed so simple - just do a global. (Don’t forget to proofread. That new name will pop into other words by mistake. If you just change every Tom to a Ben, you’d get an aBenic bomb.)

But let's face it. Names are important. A rose called “yuck” would NOT smell as sweet. Names evoke in so many ways. Lots of consonants can sound harsh. Lots of vowels can be musical. The name can remind you of something -- like a hurricane. Or a kid who picked on you in high school. Or another character created by another author. Which was the reason I decided to make the change. I didn’t want my girl to be compared to the other one.

Sometimes people ask me where I find the names for my characters. There are so many things to consider that I postpone the decision as long as I can.

I usually write an entire first draft without names. In The Desperate Adventures of Zeno and Alya (my novel that’s coming out on October 15th), the names of the main characters started as the initials Z and A. Eventually the African gray parrot Zeno was named after a Greek philosopher because his “servant” (as Zeno prefers to think of his owner) was a professor of Greek literature. That choice inspired me in other ways. Zeno the man had lots of great quotes, like - “Two ears, one mouth!”  Which means, humans should listen more than they talk. So many of my favorite parts wouldn’t have been in the book at all if I had named Zeno something like Adam.

Switching names is very hard. Even when the characters don’t complain. However I did it. But first I rather superstitiously consulted my oracle. I offered Blackberry two pieces of food - having predetermined that one would be linked to the old name and the other to the new. She chose the new name. Two times in a row!

And so Lanora is now Lanora. Whether she likes it or not.

Dogs v. Cats?

Stormy, photo by Hope Weber

Dear Two-legged One,

You recently wrote about someone who said he was a dog man. I think his name was James Thurber?

Obviously I don’t know this person. Anyone who knew me would not prefer dogs to cats.

I believe you also mentioned this person was a writer? He must have been a rare genius who could arrange words properly on the page the very first time. His ideas must have been so amazing that he deserved to have his dog look at him in this adoring fashion.

You, however, are not a genius. You feed me and your lap is warm-–at least warmer than the sofa. But you are not nearly as clever as I am. It’s only because you are mine that I bother to tell you the truth.

You're lucky to have a cat like me because you need to rewrite. Many times, in fact. You must dig deeper, delete those second rate sentiments, and above all never be satisfied with your first thought. Lucky for you, I'm here to tell you that whatever you've written today isn’t quite good enough. You can do better. If you ever forget that, my stare will remind you.

 
Go on. Get back to work. After you’ve given me my dinner.

Children's Writer in Residence at Thurber House

Thurber House in Columbus, Ohio

I have the honor of being chosen as the Thurber House Children’s Writer in Residence for 2013. For one month, I will stay in this amazing house in Columbus, Ohio, where James Thurber used to live with his family. Some of his most famous stories were inspired by events that took place in that house. The ghost walked up those steps. The bed fell on his father - in the attic where I will be sleeping. The house has been preserved as a living museum where, as Thurber House says, “laughter, learning and literature meet.”

Naturally I can’t wait to be inspired by the setting, but I also look forward to teaching the students who come to study writing at Thurber House. I know I’ll learn as much if not more from them. That has been my experience as an instructor at Writopia Lab.

Kids’ minds are so fertile. There are no limits to what they can imagine. That ability reminds me of something Thurber wrote. (He had suffered an eye injury when his brother shot him with an arrow while they were playing William Tell.)

“With perfect vision, one is inextricably trapped in the workaday world... For the hawk-eyed person, life has none of those soft edges which for me blur into fantasy; for such a person an electric welder is merely an electric welder, not a radiant fool setting off a sky-rocket by day. The kingdom of the partly blind is a little like Oz....  Anything you can think of, and a lot you never would think of, can happen there.”


That is exactly what I hope happens whenever I sit at my desk. I try to remember what it’s like to be a kid where anything is possible. I try to escape the workaday world and look for radiant fools. I know I'll find something equally amazing at Thurber House!

It’s hard to stop quoting Thurber, but I will -- after sharing one last thought from him.

“I am not a cat man, but a dog man, and all felines can tell this at a glance - a sharp, vindictive glance.”

He must have met the one with whom I share my writing space. I’ll give my cat Blackberry a chance to respond soon.

a message from Blackberry

Dear Two-legged one,

Oh how you have betrayed me.

For years we have shared our morning rituals. First you give me my breakfast (which, by the way, is never enough). Then we watch the pigeons prancing along the roof across the street.

Recently I found out the real reason that you have been studying the particular way they bobble their heads as they walk. You are writing about them! In your new novel!  Which apparently is full of birds––including the hero, an African grey parrot named Zeno. If you can call a parrot a hero.

Why would you elevate an animal who isn’t a cat to such a lofty position? Just because he can talk your language? That is very arrogant––even for a human.

As a writer, you should be paying attention to all kinds of communication. Especially the non-verbal type. Isn’t that the real meaning of show don’t tell?

I can tell by your pacing that you are doing rewrites. You have been muttering that you can’t find the exact right ending for your novel. You need a final image that will resonate with the reader, long after she has shut the book.

I have a suggestion. Maybe your parrot should encounter a strong, wise, beautiful black cat.

Sincerely,

Blackberry THE CAT

32 miles. 12 1/2 hours. The Great Saunter.

On May 5, 2012, I walked around the island of Manhattan with my friend Nancy Johnson and about a thousand other members of the Shorewalkers Hiking Club.



See our smiling faces? This photo was taken when we had completed about a third of our journey. We’re under the George Washington Bridge -- right by the little red light house of children’s book fame. 

A few miles after this photo was taken, sauntering ceased. (According to the dictionary, to saunter means to walk in a slow, relaxed manner without hurry or effort.) A few more miles later, our hike felt  more like a forced march. During the last third of the 32 miles, we didn’t dare sit down. The effort to resume our slog far outweighed however welcome the rest would have been.

WHY oh WHY would I subject my feet and my psyche to such an ordeal?

When Nancy first suggested that we “saunter” 32 miles, it didn’t sound that difficult. I felt confident that I could do it. I had walked plenty of miles in Manhattan before. But at the 20 mile mark, I was ready to quit. My joints ached. My feet seemed to be one big blister. At the 25 mile mark, when we were on city streets, a few yellow cabs followed our straggling group. If Nancy hadn’t been there, I might very well have succumbed to temptation and yelled, “Taxi!”

I didn’t.

The sun was setting as we reached South Street Seaport, the point at which we began. People in sombreros were out celebrating Cinco de Mayo. The contrast would have made me smile if I had the energy to move one extraneous muscle.

So why oh why DID I do it?

I wanted to see if I could. And I am extremely proud that I did. Yes writing a novel requires a huge amount of stamina. Any long term creative project demands energy, mental tricks, motivational techniques--and lots of coffee. This was the first time I had ever pushed myself to do anything physically strenuous. Now I have a deeper respect for people who put themselves to physical tests.

There’s one other reason I (why not say it again) walked 32 miles in 12 and 1/2 hours. I wanted to know if I could accomplish what I made my poor character Megan do in my novel Nature Girl. Well, could I?

Yes––but just barely.

Nature Nurtures Me

I grew up right next to a woods. My mother said this was a good thing––girls need a place to go and cry. She was wrong. Oh sure, she often saw me running toward the trees with a thunder cloud across my face. No matter how miserable I was, I never cried in the woods. As soon as I was among the trees, I felt what the adult me now knows was peace.

Sadly there aren’t as many wild places anymore. Children no longer have much unstructured time or unstructured places in which to spend it. As a result, they have what Richard Louv describes as a “Nature Deficit Disorder.” He believes that lack causes all kinds of health and learning problems. According to Dr. William Bird, the chair of Britain’s Outdoor Health Forum, a person’s stress levels fall within minutes of seeing green spaces.  

The same is true when I see blue oceans, brown deserts or even a vast grey sky. When I'm in nature, I don’t dwell on my own problems. I gain perspective. The woods, the sky, the ocean, the desert are all much larger than I am. The abundance of life outside myself doesn't diminish me. It expands me. When I am in nature, I feel part of the world. 

Now that I’m an adult, I live in a city of 8 million people. When things go wrong, when I feel bullied or disappointed or discouraged, I walk to our nearby park. I find a spot where the grass isn’t mowed and the bushes aren’t trimmed. A hawk flies by. The wind rustles the branches. Two squirrels play chase up a tree. Life continues there, in a crazy profusion, so I feel like I can too.

You’ve probably heard a lot about saving the environment. Let’s not forget that when we save the environment, we are actually saving ourselves.