Like many readers, I’m one who’s “sad” when I finish a good novel, sad that the ride is over. For a few days I find myself missing the characters and their world. But I’m also in awe of that mournfulness. How do authors do that? What kind of sorcery is this??
I recently finished reading Lily King’s novel Heart the Lover. I enjoyed it so much I immediately read Writers & Lovers next, then added her other works to my reading list. King is masterful at creating characters and moments that make the reader feel exactly what her characters are experiencing. She uses subtle yet relatable details to completely transport a reader. I connected with her narrator Casey from the get go and felt like I was living the story—all the anxiety and the struggles and the joy—right along with her.
Included at the end of Writers & Lovers is an essay by King called “Worm, Eggs, Sperm and Other Thoughts on Writing.” I of course devoured this too, trying to learn as much as I can from her. Her discussion about crafting experiences instead of ideas resonates with me. She was an English teacher, like I was, and she discusses her writing process:
“. . . I cannot approach any kind of writing with my English teacher brain. That’s the brain that wants to analyze, find themes and metaphors and motifs and irony and resonance, to deconstruct and reify and measure authorial distance. . . . That brain needs to be banished from the process—or at least from writing the first draft.
Because that brain cannot create a thing. All it can do is dissect and evaluate and criticize. When you are writing something new . . . all you need, is your creative, sensual, wide-open brain. Your creator, not your critic.”
Oh crap, I thought. That’s exactly my problem, and I’ve got a growing collection of rejection letters to prove it.
Thus far, my English teacher self has been approaching my children’s stories the same way I used to approach my lesson planning: What do I want my kids to know? And how am I going to communicate it? I’ve been starting with a seed idea (an overall “theme”) and working backwards. In other words, I’ve been trying too hard to say things, instead of creating experiences for the reader.
How could I have been so shortsighted? Kids don’t learn from our lectures. (I should know that well; I’m a parent.) Kids learn best through experience. By doing and playing and having fun. My approach to writing should be, What experience, what feelings, what FUN can I create here?
Less talking, more listening. To kids.
My favorite children’s writers—Jon Klassen, Mac Barnett, J.K. Rowling, Tommy dePaola, Dr. Seuss, Daniel Salmieri, Matthew Forsythe, Peter Brown, Chris Haughton, to name a few—all create stories that are so wonderfully FUN. That doesn’t mean they aren’t saying meaningful things to kids. On the contrary, they convey meaning masterfully. I don’t claim to know each of their creative processes, but like the best artists and writers, their meaning comes from an experience that was fun and thrilling and hilarious and full of feeling. And we readers finish these stories and want to take the ride again and again.
I love that. I want to create stories—experiences—like that. And I’m trying to approach my writing more from this vantage point. I’m trying to let my brain be more “wide open” when I initially create, BEFORE my English teacher self joins the party to tease out meaning and metaphors. Who knows if I’ll ever create something others enjoy too. But so far, I like where it’s headed. At the very least, it’s fun. :)
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