I have a small collection of early Young Adult novels from the 10s, 20s and 30s. I even have a YA novel from 1896! These old YA novels are usually targeted to girls (clubs, high school stories, cosy mysteries) or boys (outdoor adventure, sports).

My husband took me shopping at an antique mall recently. It was hard to choose but I picked out The Moving Picture Girls at Oak Farm, published in 1914. Check out this hook:

“Moving Pictures have very rapidly become the world’s pastime and in this fine series of books, any girl can learn all about the fun and excitement connected with the taking and making of Moving Pictures. This set of books revolves about a club of girls, who have organized for the sole purpose of learning about the art of taking pictures.”

It sounds like Hollywood Secrets meets YouTube filmmakers, doesn’t it?

The author is Laura Lee Hope. According to Wikipedia: “Laura Lee Hope is a pseudonym used by the Stratemeyer Syndicate for the Bobbsey Twins and several other series of children’s novels.” Exciting!

There was a companion series for boys called The Sky Buddies Series about “adventurous boy aviators.” There was also a girl aviator series, the Girl Sky Pilots! All of these series promise the latest in cutting edge tech, for savvy Jazz Age kids in the know.

Oak Farm is located in the remote country wilds of Hoboken, New Jersey. I can’t wait to read it!

– Kate

Baylee’s tree is blooming.

It’s still early in the season, but the delicate, white buds of the Bradford Pear tree in my front yard are starting to peek out. It happens every spring, but it still surprises me. I’ll be walking out to get the paper or the mail, or pulling out of my driveway and the buds will catch my eye. And I always think, “Welcome back, Baylee!”

I know Baylee in the way most people know Baylee – through a photo. Baylee Almon was the limp baby with tiny, white socks, who was carried by a firefighter away from the Alfred Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City on April 19, 1995. She was one year and one day old when she died.

I remember that night. I was hundreds of miles away from Oklahoma. The bombing was on my television, not in my Ohio backyard. But it still threw me over a cliff. This was before Columbine, when the toll was so heavy we all staggered. And it was before September 11^th, the terrible divide between Before and After.

I remember crawling into bed that April night and feeling scared, sick, shocked. It was clear someone had planned the bombing knowing full well there was a daycare in the building. How could someone do that? I wondered.  It was the first time in my life that I understood evil truly existed in the world.

Of course, I realize the world has always held evil. But I’d never noticed. Or if I did, it was still easy enough to turn away and pretend. I had a led a relatively charmed life. (Still do, for that matter.) I know it wasn’t the world that changed. It was me. I was a young mom with two babies of my own. I had carried their bodies, limp with sleep, to their beds. And then planted kisses in their tiny hands. My boys would be waking me up with their tears in the morning. Baylee’s mom and the mothers of the other eighteen children killed would be waking up with their own tears.

That night, I made a vow to plant a tree in the yard of every house I lived in. In honor of Baylee.

The first one had pink buds. I chose a Bradford Pear because they’re the ones that bloom first, the ones who call back Spring. It was a small seedling I left behind when we moved. The next one I planted, at our new house, had white buds. This one was a sapling, about 4 feet high. It took me a long time to dig the hole by myself. By the time I was done, my back ached and my hands were raw. I planted it alone because I was too embarrassed to tell anyone what I was doing, even my husband. I didn’t know Baylee or her family. Who was I to mourn her?

I watered that tree every day. Like my kids, it grew like crazy. And it grew straight and strong and made me smile. It’s this tree I’m telling you about now. Am I embarrassed to share the story of my Bradford Pear? Not really. For whatever reason, I understand, now, that mourning is okay. Life’s hard. Not all the time. But still. There’s war. There’s disease. Children go hungry and missing. Rivers run over their banks. People are treated in unimaginable ways every single day. Bad things happen. And whether or not they happen to us, they happen to us because we are together on this earth at the same time. But the world would be a terrible place only if we didn’t feel the ache of someone else’s heartbreak.

Why am I moved to write about my secret after all these years? I honestly don’t know the answer. But like I said, Baylee’s tree is blooming. Maybe this year I just paid attention in a different way.

I read somewhere Baylee’s mom, Arin, married and had two more children. Good for her. I know Baylee is in her heart and in her life in a very real way. And I know she is keenly aware her firstborn would have turned 16 this year. (As my middle child will.) I also know I’ll remember Baylee, too. After all, she taught me that if we are just patient, hope – like spring – always comes back around.

I can usually tell right from the first page of a novel if I want to keep on reading. Sometimes, the writing seems…well, too much like writing. It can contain beautiful images and subtle details that develop character. There might be a strong conflict to pique my interest or the promise of an exciting plot. But something about the writing itself keeps me from living in the story. What is it?

 I’ve tried to pin it down, because I don’t want my own writing to be like that. My best explanation so far is that the writing doesn’t sound natural enough. There’s something stiff about it, like the words have been forced there to create a good image or to evoke a specific feeling. It’s trying too hard.

 This is probably one of the things I worry about most with my writing. What helps?

1. Having a regular writing routine. When I write regularly, I can get to a place where the story starts to flow without me thinking about it.

2.  A good critique group and beta readers.  I don’t think you can always tell when your own writing sounds forced.

3. Careful revision to rout out phrases and actions that are peculiar to writing. These phrases draw attention to themselves and pull the reader away from the story.

 It’s strange how it can take such hard work to make a story feel natural. Some of us work for years to get there. It’s my ultimate writing goal—to write a story that is so absorbing the reader feels they’re almost a part of it. The kind where the writing becomes invisible.

–Andrea

Life is still getting in the way of writing this week. But I sent out another query for my young adult novel and my picture book biography to two publishers. And, oh. I registered for a revision workshop my local SCBWI chapter is putting on in April. So I guess I’m managing to get something writing related done.

Just for fun, I recently gathered up my stats on my search for an agent for my young adult novel. I thought I’d share them. Personally, I like seeing other people’s submission stats.

Hope you find these interesting!

Everything But the Flying Monkeys (YA, 45,000 words)

18 – Agents

5 – Form Rejections

5 – Requests for Fulls – all personal no’s

2 – Requests for partials – one personal “no” to date

6 – haven’t heard back from at this point

If I did the math right (that’s a big IF!) it appears I have approximately a 60% positive response rate. Is that good? I honestly don’t know.

What are your stats?

I have a drawer full of copies of manuscripts and their associated rejection letters. I’ve seen lots of ideas about what to do with the letters but what about the manuscripts that remain unpublished? The options I’ve come up with are:

 1. Toss them. With all the work that’s gone into them, that’s hard. Even when I know that for some, their main purpose was to improve my writing. I’ve just recently managed to let go of some rough drafts that were causing a paper jam in my file cabinet.

 2. Make books for the kids. I did that with some of my early stories, giving them to my nieces and daughters as special Christmas gifts, complete with my incredibly bad artwork. At least they had an audience.

 3. Put some examples on your website. A writer friend, Jody Kihara, decided to provide online access to two of her much laboured over manuscripts, after receiving positive responses from readers but no bites from agents or publishers.  A brave choice!

 Any other ideas? How long do you keep rejected manuscripts?

 – Andrea

Earlier this week, Christy had some great tips about taking our characters to the next level. Here’s a quote:

As writers, it’s our job to make our characters believable yet unforgettable.

I’d like to make something very clear here: Characters must also have a concrete motivation.

Oh, did you think I was addressing you, dear reader? No, I’d like to make this clear to the characters in my head. You know the type. They come begging you to tell their stories but on closer examination, the stories don’t hold up. Characters in my head, where are your motivations?

Freddie, I’m really sorry that a mystery person is leaving strange notes taped to your locker, but I can’t help you. I don’t know who is doing it or why. I have no idea what you should do about it. Why don’t you ask your friends, who I’d name (if I were writing your story, which I am NOT) Stella and Kim? They seem nice. You know, with such nice friends, I don’t see your life coming to a crisis any time soon, so maybe you should leave me alone.

And Regan? I don’t know why your sister is a liar. Really. No clue. So your tarot card readings come true and she takes credit for it. That’s your problem? Why does that even matter? Are you going to predict something earth shattering? If not, I don’t see how I can make a plot out of it. Maybe you should come back when you predict what your story is about.

Ruth, oh Ruth. I thought I’d hang with you for a while. You seemed interesting. But it was your setting I loved. 1899 Outerbanks of North Carolina in a hurricane is pretty interesting. I thought you’d have something to say. But all you came up with were tangents on whaling and Spanish treasure and then some wacky cousin from the mainland showed up … I don’t know where you’re going with this mishmash. What is it that you want?

Look, Characters in my Head, I appreciate you showing up and all, but I have enough problems trying to write stories for the characters with motivations. So maybe you can come back around when you have something that you want and we can figure out what your story is then. Agreed?

Earlier this week, Christy had some great tips about taking our characters to the next level. Here’s a quote:

As writers, it’s our job to make our characters believable yet unforgettable.

I’d like to make something very clear here: Characters must also have a concrete motivation.

Oh, did you think I was addressing you, dear reader? No, I’d like to make this clear to the characters in my head. You know the type. They come begging you to tell their stories but on closer examination, the stories don’t hold up. Characters in my head, where are your motivations?

Freddie, I’m really sorry that a mystery person is leaving strange notes taped to your locker, but I can’t help you. I don’t know who is doing it or why. I have no idea what you should do about it. Why don’t you ask your friends, who I’d name (if I were writing your story, which I am NOT) Stella and Kim? They seem nice. You know, with such nice friends, I don’t see your life coming to a crisis any time soon, so maybe you should leave me alone.

And Regan? I don’t know why your sister is a liar. Really. No clue. So your tarot card readings come true and she takes credit for it. That’s your problem? Why does that even matter? Are you going to predict something earth shattering? If not, I don’t see how I can make a plot out of it. Maybe you should come back when you predict what your story is about.

Ruth, oh Ruth. I thought I’d hang with you for a while. You seemed interesting. But it was your setting I loved. 1899 Outerbanks of North Carolina in a hurricane is pretty interesting. I thought you’d have something to say. But all you came up with were tangents on whaling and Spanish treasure and then some wacky cousin from the mainland showed up … I don’t know where you’re going with this mishmash. What is it that you want?

Look, Characters in my Head, I appreciate you showing up and all, but I have enough problems trying to write stories for the characters with motivations. So maybe you can come back around when you have something that you want and we can figure out what your story is then. Agreed?