All The Way YA

Feedback: Too Much of A Good Thing


It’s highly regarded in the writing community, and for good reason. An experienced critique partner can catch a plot hole the author might miss because they can’t see the whole story. Grammar mistakes are easier for a secondary person to notice because they don’t know what the text says until they read it.

But feedback is dangerous if you don’t know how to handle it.

The most popular pitfall of feedback is mental drain. Criticism can be tough to take. But this post isn’t about the difficulties of accepting feedback. This post is about the danger of too much.

Two years ago, I was lucky enough to join an incredible studio full of writers who were all passionate about craft and wanted to help their peers succeed.  Everyone was excited to give feedback, which meant I got tons of it. Every page of my work was covered in grammar tips, character arc opinions, anything and everything that could possibly be covered. It was amazing!

Image result for editingDiving in with voracity, I took every suggestion to heart. My character’s drives aren’t clear? I’ll clarify! This area of dialogue drags? I’ll spice it up! Maybe a, b and c aren’t necessary? Cool, they’re tossed! I was not going to be one of those writers who was unwilling to rewrite. Writing is rewriting. Kill the darlings. I aspired to implement everything.

That was a mistake.

The problem was, all these critiques and opinions were based off 20-25 pages of a 280 page novel. These CPs were critiquing one puzzle piece, so when I changed the piece according to their ideas that piece no longer fit with the rest of the story. Week after week, I made the same error. I ended up with a pile of beautifully edited words and tight scenes that led to nowhere.

It was a disaster. How had I let this happen?

Image result for ruined books

I’d done what a writer was supposed to do. I kept an open mind, listened to other’s opinions, and was more than willing to change my words.

Writing is hard. We all want to get better. I was so desperate to avoid being one of those writers who refused help I ended up giving comments too much weight. It hurt when I came to the rough realization that I had let of go of what I was trying to build. My characters’ desires had taken a back seat. I was writing for other people.

I forgot that the story I was working on was exactly that: My story.

Putting that novel in a drawer felt like locking away a piece of soul. There was so much potential in those pages, but I was caught in a feedback whirlpool and I was too tired to swim out. The novel sat in my “later” file with it’s adequate word count and inadequate pacing and plot. Two weeks later, after my mind stopped spinning, I started working on a new project.

This time, I paid attention to the craft mistakes CP’s were consistently pointing out in my work. When I took this new book to critique group I focused on my personal goals for each sample. Any feedback that conflicted with the chapter theme and direction was marked but not implemented.  If an area was brought up more than once, I would note it, but didn’t always follow their exact suggestions. Too be honest, I almost never did. But I’d mark the area: “Something is wrong here. Revisit. It’s not working.” I’d fix it, but I made sure it fit with the rest of the story.

Looking back, that feedback debacle was a blessing dressed as tragedy. It taught me the importance of sifting through comments while staying true to my story. It also highlighted the importance of picking the right CPs. A person who doesn’t like a story because of conflicting taste isn’t a good fit.

Recently, I opened the drawer and wiped the cobwebs off the tragically over-edited book. The pages of feedback I received last year now look like suggestions.  It’s easy to see where I went wrong because I’ve finally figured out how to handle the comments correctly. Pacing is important. If a scene is slow, fix it, but it can be fixed in many ways. Plot holes are an issue, but story is a matter of taste– a sweet romance writer might not like dark fantasy; in return, a fantasy writer might think a sweet romance is too slow. Style varies. Characters are important–if no one likes them or they’re acting outside of their personality, there’s a problem.

But the best lesson I learned is a happy one: everything can be fixed.

The “drawer book” is different than it was when I first started, but all books go through metamorphosis. It’s a better book because of the journey it went on, even if it was a painful one. I’ve added many of the old scenes back, but they’ve been tweaked to a higher level. Several scenes were tossed, because critique partners are often right. That’s the key to feedback. Balance. At the end of the day, the story belongs to the writer.

312185_2077885938c24faca78ead0529a48c82-mv2Jessica Grace Kelley is an accountant by day and writer by night. She greatly prefers her night job. She’s an author and poet, and her young adult novels have received over a dozen awards and contest wins, including the Daphne du Maurier, the YA Authors.Me contest, and the Emma Merritt. Jessica holds a BA in Finance and Accounting. When she isn’t buried in books she spends her time writing music and co-teaching a teen writing class. Sometimes she tries to be a painter, but the product of her efforts proves it’s all in her head.





When you receive multiple offers from agents, how do you choose?



Too Stressed To Be Excited


Dear Too Stressed To Be Excited,

What a good problem to have! Firstly, congratulations on attracting the interest of not one, but multiple agents. This is a very important relationship you’re embarking on and it pays to be choosey. There are a few things I would do right away if you haven’t already:

  1. Check their recent sales and existing clients at Publisher’s Marketplace.
  2. Stalk them on social media.
  3. Ask for a couple of their current authors as references.
  4. Schedule a telephone call to talk about your project and their vision for it.

To expand a little on number 2, social media is a mere glimpse into a person’s personality, but the more important thing, is to be on the watch for red flags—Are they professional? Do they keep author information confidential? Do they seem to have a good online reputation? Are they a “good” person?

Along a similar vein for number 3, you want to ask their references about their working relationships—Are they respectful? Do they give good feedback? Are they timely and transparent in their communications?

For your telephone interview, I would ask some in-depth questions focused more on your story and their long-term vision for your career. Some agents have a short-term view of “I can sell this story” and some agents are more focused on building your career over time. It may seem far into the future, but I would challenge you to take a long-term perspective on this, and ask yourself where you’d like to be in ten years. You might also ask the agent for a couple of examples of their authors’ trajectories to get a glimpse into how committed the agent is to helping their authors build a base over time. Another way to put this, is that it’s easy for an agent to point to their shiny bestseller success stories, but you might learn more from how they manage an author with a slow build.

Some other things to consider are the agent’s experience, years they’ve been in the business, whether they are full-time or part-time agents, and whether their agency has added bonuses like foreign sub-rights or connections with film studios.

There are advantages and disadvantages to both seasoned and baby agents. A seasoned agent will likely have built a solid reputation and long-standing relationships with editors, but they might also have a full list of clients and not a lot of time for one-on-one attention. A baby agent may still be elbowing their way into a crowded room, but they are likely hungrier and more willing to invest the time and attention in your career because their success is more closely linked with your own.

These are generalizations, of course, and there are certainly veteran agents who stay hungry and baby agents who have connections, but these trends may help you in thinking about how to frame your questions: How much feedback do you tend to give to authors? What do you do if a project doesn’t sell?

This is a bit of a tangent, but something I wish that I had asked my agent: in looking at the story I sent you, how would you try and shape my career and build my readership over time? If your debut novel is successful, likely the publisher will want more of the same, only a little different. So if, for instance, you are a genre jumper, it would benefit you to have that conversation with your prospective agent at the outset. The more you know about yourself as an artist, the better equipped you will be to find an agent that suits you.

I would also impart as a last bit of advice, to go with your gut. This is perhaps harder to quantify, but in reflecting on your conversation with a prospective agent and the email exchanges you might have had, do you feel like you can trust them? Do you feel safe? Do they seem to be responsive to your needs? Of course sales matter, but so does personality, and if something the agent said or did rubbed you the wrong way, the two of you might not be the best fit for this kind of long-term partnership.

And if you’re really bold, you can ask them their birthdate and look them up in this book or enter their information at this website to compare your astrological charts.

Good luck!

Laura Lascarso

Do you have a question for Laura? Leave it in the box below for a chance to have it featured in June’s #DearLaura post!


Laura Lascarso is the author of several young adult novels including THE BRAVEST THING, which won a 2017 Rainbow Award for best gay contemporary romance and COUNTING BACKWARDS, which won a 2012 Florida Book Award gold medal for young adult literature. If you have a burning question about writing or publishing, please tweet @lauralascarso and include the tag #dearlaura

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Living in the Arctic, World Building and Point-Of-View

Pic 1 DVL town

Greetings from 78°N and -16°C! I have been up here since the beginning of March when I arrived a few days before the celebration of the sun’s return… Longyearbyen is on the largest island of the Arctic Archipelago of Svalbard, approximately 1,200 kms north of the Arctic Circle. There are no trees, just mountains and glaciers and a relatively thin layer of snow. And not too many people either. Longyearbyen’s population is around 2,200 and the entire archipelago has less than 3,000 residents.

– um, OK… *sounds cold* but what does that have to do with world building?

Everything! Although it’s easy to see details of world building when you read about Middle Earth or Starships, a contemporary novel set in a real place also has a distinct world that the author has created – either by constructing a fictional setting or by choosing which parts of an existing setting to include or to omit.

The purpose of world building is to create a setting for your story. It is the structure in which your characters evolve and your story arc unfolds.

– But what does that have to do with point of view (POV)?

The world your characters inhabit shapes how they view the world and how they react. Whether done consciously or unconsciously, the world you create informs the story problem and its themes.

– And that connects to living in the Arctic… how?

A character’s POV and the world they inhabit are intricately inter-linked – and no place shows that better than here in Longyearbyen where some of the things we take for granted living below the Arctic Circle just don’t hold true anymore.

– Like what?

Like ‘day’ and ‘night’. Day is when the sun is up. Night when it is down. Right?

– Well, duh.

Nope. Not here. In Longyearbyen the sun dips below the horizon for the last time on October 15. And stays down until February 15 – although in Longyearbyen, because of the mountains, you don’t actually see the sun until March 8. And from April 20 to August 20 the sun stays up 24 hours a day – it circles around the sky going higher or lower, but never dipping below the horizon. Which means that when you go out with friends in the summer you stumble out of the pub into broad daylight at 2 in the morning. And when you meet a friend for lunch at noon in January, it looks like you are meeting them at midnight. Right now, the twilight goes on for hours giving a fabulous blue light.

Pic 2 DVL Blue Light

– So daylight and darkness have more to do with the seasons than with day and night?

Absolutely! And a person/character who has grown up here (or in any other community north of the Arctic Circle) will have a different idea of what it means to walk home in the dark than those of us who grew up with dark meaning night – and as a girl growing up in Massachusetts I was brought up to understand that dark meant danger.

– Yeah, but being in a big city like NYC the night doesn’t feel the same either – there are always so many people out.

True. And that’s just another example of how the place you live affects the way you see the world – or even what makes sense to have happen in a story. Take for example the idea of having a character find a buried treasure, hidden by a pirate a hundred years ago, in their backyard. For a character growing up in Cambridge, MA that would make sense. But not if your character was in NYC or in Longyearbyen. In NYC there aren’t any backyards (so the treasure would have to have been buried in one of the city parks instead?) and in Longyearbyen the city is built on permafrost (so maybe it was hidden in a nearby glacier that is now slowly moving down the valley?).

Pic 3 DVL nature shot

– Wait. You live on permafrost? Isn’t that like really cold?

Yes and no. As with night and day, it’s relative. After graduating from high school my twin brothers and I took off for college. I headed up to Alaska, one brother went to California, and the other stayed close to home. By the time we gathered again at Christmas and went out to a local bar to catch up, we realized we were all dressed for different types of weather. I had on a light sweater. The brother from California had a double layer of jackets and scarves and was still cold while the one who had stayed at home looked like everyone else walking down the street with a ‘normal’ coat, a hat and gloves. So you adapt (and get the right clothes). Just the other day, when it was only -10°C out, everyone commented on how warm it was – and went out with a layer or two less. It’s all a question of what you are used to and that’s what I meant about how world building and point of view are connected: what you experience (the world around you) shapes the way you see the world (POV).

– So if it’s like winter all the time, does everyone drive a snowmobile or something?

Pretty much, actually! But that’s also because there aren’t many roads. In and around Longyearbyen there are only about 42 kilometers of roads after that it’s just open nature. The ‘two-vehicle’ family has a different twist up here since many have both a car and a snowmobile. Basically, if you want to get out of town in the winter/spring, you have to have a snowmobile. In the warmer months, when the sea ice has melted, you can also go places by boat.

It also means that teens, when they get their first permits, drive snowmobiles to school. Snowmobiles are a real source of freedom for teens – there really isn’t much you can do in a town of 2,200 people where everyone knows everyone. And believe me, they really do know how to drive them. I went for a drive with a teen the other day and he was hanging off the side and standing on the seat as if it was a BMX – whereas I felt adventurous just standing up!

Pic 4 DVL snowmobile

– Have you seen any polar bears?

No, they aren’t often close to town even though the archipelago is home to several thousand polar bears. Which means you can’t leave town without a rifle and a flare. Since they are a protected species, the idea is to be able to scare them away. If you do shoot one, there will be a major investigation where you have to prove it was in self-defense.

But I have seen reindeer! One of the first mornings I looked out the kitchen window and saw one – and completely forgot about my coffee (which is saying a lot!). I took about a hundred pictures. A few days later I realized that reindeer are in and around Longyearbyen every day – much the way squirrels are in Massachusetts. But I still stop and take pictures of the reindeer when I see them, marking myself off as someone who isn’t from here.

Pic 5 DVL Reindeer

So, when writing a book about a high school kid living in Longyearbyen, I’ll have to have them ignore the reindeer, drive a snowmobile to school, know how to tell a fox track from a husky track and to wear jeans around town even when it’s -18°C. And to have them find something long buried in the ice when they are out on a glacier…

Born in the US, Dina von Lowenkraft has lived on 4 continents, worked as a graphic
artist for television and as a consultant in the fashion industry. She
is the Regional Advisor for SCBWI Belgium, where she lives with her
husband, two children, three horses and a cat. Her debut YA Fantasy,
DRAGON FIRE, was a finalist in ForeWord Reviews’ 2013 Book of the Year
Award, in the 2014 Eric Hoffer Award and in the 2014 Readers’ Favorite

Shelving My Emotions

The Order of the Key was my dream novel, the book of my heart. I invented the idea for it when I was fifteen years old and I never expected to be shelving it, unpublished, twenty years later.

Jeez. Twenty years later. I don’t think I ever thought of it in those terms.

To be fair, I haven’t been working on it this entire time, and the book I’m stuffing in the musty shelf of my mind is definitely not the book I started with. The version I’d created at fifteen contained a completely unlikeable, hormonal, emotional (possibly based on myself) super-cool highly powerful sorceress teen, and she hunted vampires as she romanced her way through a team of stalwart heroes. Hey, cut me some slack. It was the age of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and it showed. The current, much cooler, much more mature version involves a fun and likeable geek who blunders her way through a semi-corrupt organization that fights interdimensional monsters and manages to find herself leading the rebellion to overthrow the corrupt portion of it.

When I say it has grown by leaps and bounds, I’m not just talking about its intriguing premise. The writing of the original novel was horrid. But it was the first thing I’d ever finished. I was proud of it.

I took a long break after the initial trilogy I wrote, always planning to write a book four, but college got in the way. I majored in Creative Writing and quickly learned all the reasons why Origins of a Hero (the original title) sucked horribly. It definitely needed a rewrite, and I would get around to it. One day.

And then I gave birth to a baby, who suffered through colic while I suffered through post-partum depression. The first six months of his life were honestly the hardest of mine. When we both thrived, I realized I could do anything–I returned to writing in earnest.

That’s when The Order of the Key was born in its true form. It was accepted by a small publisher after only a few months of querying. Then that publisher crashed. I jumped to another small publisher run by people I had met at the first one. That time, my book was sorely mistreated, sometimes put on the backburner, other times edited in a way that tore at the heart of the story. The arguments over the direction of the story (and the direction of the company, as I had taken a job there) eventually came to a head, and I requested my way out of the contract. Shortly after I left, that publishing company folded.

I was heartbroken. I had wasted over a year promoting a book that never came out, and that now, may never come out. I had signed with both publishing companies out of an emotional need to see my book in print–no matter what it took.

But that’s the wrong way to go about all of this.

Leading with my emotions, with my intense love for these characters who had dogged me since I was a teenager, made me make foolish decisions with my work. All at once, I understood where I had gone wrong. By being desperate. Desperate never got anybody anywhere but humiliated.

I shut down my fear and entered Order in a contest called Pitch to Publication, where you work with an editor and get your story showcased in front of agents…and I won.

It returned my confidence to me. Suddenly, I just knew I’d be on the way to publication in 2017. I’d worked with a professional editor and the book was better than I’d ever envisioned. I had honed my query until it was sharp as a spear and was ready to take aim. 2017 would be my year.

2017, as it turned out, was not my year.

I queried. And queried. And queried. And got all of two requests for more. I wanted to keep trying. This was the book of my dreams. The book I most wanted to see in print. But I’d sworn to myself that emotions were where bad business decisions lived.

I’m shelving the book. It’s the hardest writing choice I’ve ever made. For two decades, my main characters shared prime real estate in my noggin. I cared about these characters. I wanted everyone else to get to know them and to love them as much as I did. But I had to accept that the market simply wasn’t interested in the book I was trying to sell. At least not now.

I’ve written a new book. I’m editing it now, and I’m also excited to get this book out into the world. It’s not the same excitement.

The Order of the Key was like my first love. Exciting and new and wrought with tension and a roller coaster of emotions. It may never see the light of day, and despite the pain that causes, I’ve gone through my grief stages. I’m ready to move on. I am a widow remarrying, and my journey is far from over.

Justine Manzano PicJustine Manzano lives in Bronx, NY, with her husband, son, and a cacophony of cats. Her short fiction has appeared in the anthologies Things You Can Create and Best New Writing 2017, as well as Sliver of Stone Magazine, The Greenwich Village Literary Review, The Holiday Café, Twisted Sister Literary, The Corvus Review, and Fiction on the Web. She received the Editor’s Choice Award for her work in the Best New Writing anthology. She currently maintains and runs a free editing service, The Inkwell Council, and her own blog at, where she discusses her adventures in juggling motherhood, writing, and the very serious businesses of fangirling and multiple forms of geekery.

How (Not) to Get Past Impostor Syndrome

I used to think I’d feel like a real writer the first time I finished a book. For a long time, I could never stick with a project past the 30k mark, so getting all the way to the end of a novel-sized project would make me a writer, right?

But when I had my finished and revised book in my hand, I still didn’t feel like a writer. This time, I was sure being unagented was the issue. Having an agent would mean someone believed enough in my work to tie their name to it in a professional capacity. Surely that would make me feel like a writer, right?

Now I have an agent, and I’m seeing all these people announce their book deals, and I just know once I sell my book I will feel like—


Do you see the pattern?

It’s often said writing is a marathon, not a sprint, and I could not agree with this more. But people often fail to mention that it’s a marathon where the finish line is moving faster than you are. First you think it’s about having the book, then the agent, then the book deal, then beating the sophomore slump, then winning awards, then maintaining an established career and so on and so forth. It doesn’t help that thanks to social media, we see—or think we see—where every other runner in this race is. Someone who started their book after you has their agent before you? Someone who writes in the same niche genre publishers have rejected you for eight million times is now winning piles of awards?

Clearly they’re doing something right and you should go sit in a hole and weep for a few hours.

But having talked to people at so many different stages of the process (querying, agented but revising, agented but on sub, preparing their debut, established, etc.) I’ve come to a simultaneously sobering and freeing realization:

The impostor syndrome never ends.

In some weird, reverse psychology-esque way, this realization has made me feel so much better about where I am in the process. If I’m never going to feel like a real writer, then I may as well keep doing what I’m doing anyway. Instead of letting the feeling consume me, I let it move alongside my process like an ever-present companion.

As writers, it can be difficult for us to internalize our accomplishments because there is always another step ahead of us. But most people never get to the stage of even trying to write a book. There is value alone in the attempt. This is doubly true for marginalized peoples who have extra institutional powers keeping them from devoting the time or advancing forward in publishing as a career in any capacity. In a world that devalues our work and sneers at our profession or tells us our genres are frivolous wastes of time, there is power in simply putting the words down and not stopping no matter how long it takes.

That isn’t to say there is no power in outside validation. There is no guarantee of anything in this line of work, so it’s important to celebrate milestones. Yay, you got an agent! Yay, your book sold! But it is important to remember the smaller milestones that may not stand out on social media are equally worth celebrating because they are markers of progress all the same. Yay, you finished your first draft! You, you revised your query! Yay, you wrote 500 words you don’t hate!

It’s been said a million times, but that’s because it’s true:

Writing makes you a writer.

So let yourself feel the impostor syndrome. Let yourself feel like you’ve fallen behind everyone and you’ll never catch up.

Then keep on going.

You have writing to do.

New HeadshotRosie Brown is an immigrant from the West African nation of Ghana and a graduate of the University of Maryland, where she completed the Jiménez-Porter Writers’ House program. She was an editorial intern at Entangled Publishing, and her work has been featured by Voice of America among other outlets. She currently teaches in Japan, where in her free time she can usually be found exploring the local mountains or thinking about Star Wars. She is represented by Quressa Robinson of Nelson Literary Agency.




Why Do I Do It?

When I was much younger, I wanted to be professional soccer player. My favorite team was the now defunct Pittsburgh Spirit. I loved going out in the yard and kicking my soccer ball all around the grass. I imagined myself scoring the winning goal in the championship game. I loved it so much that I joined up for my school team. As it turned out, the talent I had in the yard against invisible competitors didn’t carry over to the field when the action was live and the people real. Never mind the fact that I failed to realize actual games lasted more than the half hour I would play in the front yard. It was real work to play a full game, and that wasn’t my thing. I just couldn’t keep up, and in the end, I didn’t really want to. I ended up sitting on the bench most games and passed out the Gatorade to the better players. I did this for one full season and then retired the cleats for good. To this day, I don’t know why I didn’t just go back to playing in the front yard and dreaming the biggest of dreams in my head like I did before. I mean, the joy of just kicking the you-know-what out the ball was what I really liked. I should’ve just returned to that. But I quit completely because I wasn’t recognized as having talent or doing anything great on the field. I have never kicked a soccer ball since.

Now this article isn’t about quitting and giving up, rather it is about establishing and identifying what your true goal really is. I am sure you’re asking yourself: What does my quitting soccer have to do with finding your true goal? Well, maybe it has nothing, but then again, maybe it has everything to do with it. Quitting is very similar to rejection. When you quit, you are rejecting something. We writers know everything there is to know about rejection. It’s an everyday occurrence for me in some shape or form. Maybe its an idea I’m rejecting, while other days it’s an actual rejection letter from an agent or editor.

I wrote my first story around the same age I started soccer. I showed it to nobody as it wasn’t very good, but I kept writing. In the early stages, I didn’t open my work up to critique out of fear that it wasn’t any good. I was worried that I would quit just as I did with soccer. I so wanted to have talent, but I didn’t want to bear the thought of someone telling me I didn’t have any. So I kept things incognito and wrote in silence.

When I was much older, and after I got married, I decided that I wanted to try to be a writer. I wanted to be published. I wanted to see my name on the bookshelves. I had practiced my craft for years, surely by now I was ready and had done enough to warrant being published. Those years of sitting alone in my room scribbling on tablets made me want people to recognize what I had done and the talent I surely cultivated. I started sending my work out. But was I prepared for the outcome of such an act? Not at all.

The rejection letters piled in. Over the first few years of sending my work out, I got thousands of rejection letters, and each one hurt a little more. I could hear them saying: “You’re no good. Just quit. Give up like you did in soccer. You have no talent.” The editor or agent writing the letter didn’t mean for his/her words to hurt, and deep down, I knew they weren’t rejecting me as a person. It was purely a mental thing. But I couldn’t keep myself from dwelling on each and every letter. I read them over and over again searching for some nugget of goodness to attach to. I never found one. I grew frustrated. I ended up quitting writing just as I quit soccer all those years ago.

Two years clicked by without me writing a thing, until one-day things changed. My then 12 year-old son found one of my manuscripts. He liked it, and he was exactly my target audience. I was thrilled. His words made me try again, and they also made me think differently. Rejection letters still poured in like rain through a ripped screen door, but my reaction was different. The words on the page didn’t hurt anymore. Why? The answer is simple: My perception changed. In the time I stopped writing, I gave up on the entire “being published” thing and learned the true reason for writing. It is not for the agents or editors that I write; it’s for the little boys and girls of the world. It’s to make them smile, laugh, and even cry sometimes. When I write now being published doesn’t even enter my mind. Sure, it’s still a goal that I’d like to happen, but if I’m not happy and content without it, I’ll never be happy and content with it. In the end, I write to make me smile.

Writing and being published are two very separate things. One can be a writer without being published, but one can never be published without first being a writer. It’s the latter that we should all strive to be—the writer. Sounds simple, right? It wasn’t to me early on. I thought being a writer meant you had to be published. I was so focused on the end result or “the prize,” I neglected or forgot about the love for the thing I was doing.

I still write today. I still send out submissions. I still want an agent. And I would like to someday be published. But I no longer write just to be published. I can be a writer and a very good one without ever being published. One day, I am going to leave this earth. And when I do, there will be stacks of manuscripts waiting to be read and enjoyed by those who love me most. And that is enough.

So if rejections bother you to the same extent they did me, ask yourself this question: Why do I write? The answer may surprise you. Stop focusing so much on the end goal and just enjoy the moment. Live in the pure joy that you created something special and unique. The rest simply doesn’t matter. Don’t let the rejections stop you from doing what you love to do. Perhaps one day I will get to see my name on the bookstore shelves. Perhaps you will too. But if not, knowing that we just wrote a great story should be good enough to keep the blues away.


image1Thomas Wright is a writer of middle grade and young adult novels. His first book Ansburry Tales: The Redeemer was published in 2013. Book two of this five-part series is scheduled for release in 2018. Other completed projects include a YA novel, Catching Tomorrow, and a middle grade series entitled, The Adventures of Spikehead and Fred. He currently resides in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania with his wonderful family and far too many dogs.

Roller Coaster Ride


The first novel idea that I seriously followed through with was a YA contemporary. The idea came from my own experiences as a school principal and a football parent. During the time I wrote the book a few years ago, I was immersed in football with my youngest son. I sat every afternoon surrounded by teens, in carpool line, at the football field, at games.

My motive was to put a book into the universe that allowed kids to talk about the hidden epidemic of drug abuse among athletes.

Not a huge amount of adults are aware of it but student athletes in many schools have huge pressures to use “a little something” to help them out. People have heard about the problems at the professional levels of athleticism—Olympics, national leagues—but I wonder where parents think that pressure begins. It begins in high school. The story isn’t didactic, but realistic, and approved by the football players who were on my writing team.

That manuscript’s opening pages recently won first place for awesome openers with RateYourStory, a lovely recognition of my writing. And, the only recognition that manuscript may ever get. Anyway, that let me know that at least the opening was compelling. Beta readers and critique partners had helped shape it up over a period of years. That was an affirmation I needed.


I was excited beyond belief when I got an offer from a publisher last year through an online conference. I assumed it was a legitimate offer since it came through a trusted venue. And, it was legitimate, nothing shady at all. But, it was a brand spanking new publishing company. And when I sent the email to agents who had my manuscript or a newish query, one agent (very kindly) walked me through all of the problems associated with such an offer. She pointed out that New Publishing Company’s web site was less than perfect, their only books had been written by a company owner, etc. Kind agent said I’d be better off self-publishing and keeping ALL of the profits since they could offer so little. Never be first with a new company. I heard that again recently from another agent I respect.

For me, the most important factors were two:

  • Could they get the book into schools?
  • Were they a PAL publisher with SCBWI?

For that book, at that time, those were important factors to me. Now, my factors might be different. I’m at a different place than I was a year ago. The answers to both questions were negative. So, I reluctantly turned down a publisher who sang great praises for my manuscript. And, doing it by email, to this day, felt cold. I still feel terrible, but also I know I did the right thing—for me.

Another request for a full came through that same conference. Disappointingly, although they loved it, it wasn’t dual perspective, which they wanted. They asked for more work with the same voice and characters, and dual POV.

This time life got in the way. I had started going blind with early, fast-growing cataracts. Two lens placements, and two additional surgeries later, my vision is not great. It will only get worse from here—it’s just a question of how rapidly that will happen. Writing is harder, so more valued!

My first serious consideration of an offer on that YA manuscript taught me a hard lesson. Don’t assume anything about a publisher.

I’m beyond proud to be releasing a picture book series, and a chapter book series with a small publisher. But, I did my homework. And I made the decision that was right for me.


That manuscript has been SO close, and I may pursue it a bit more—enjoy the roller coaster ride. I may not. I change my mind daily. I started the dual POV with the same characters, and have a good start on it. I’ve queried the manuscript more and had full requests, but nada. I’m not patient with querying, and I haven’t done enough. I get way more discouraged when I hear how saturated the market is than I do by the ups and downs. Or I get sidelined by life—as we all do.

3ECA6BAF-06CB-40FC-9D5B-51CCE82703E5Sherry Howard lives with her children and crazy dogs in Middletown, Kentucky, a stone’s throw from the beautiful horse farms her state is always bragging about. She was an award-winning educator, serving as teacher, consultant, and principal in one of the largest urban-suburban school districts in the US. Sherry loves to read, write, cook, and sit in the sand watching the waves when she can. Her poems and stories have appeared in multiple journals and anthologies. Her picture books and chapter books release with Clear Fork Publishing this year.


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Fall Down Nine Times, Get Up Ten

By the time I post this, I will have missed a writing deadline. Here’s what I learned.

I am only human. I am full of excuses. Even if there were enough hours in the day, I probably wouldn’t have made it on time.

There is something about a ticking clock that freezes me. I work best under pressure, it’s true, but where do we draw the line? I needed to finish my manuscript by February 28, and I didn’t. I found myself at 55,000 words, cruising along steadily, only to be smashed by a million unwoven plot threads. It was like holding a hundred balloon strings on a windy day.

I faced a choice. I could forge ahead and write another 20,000-30,000 words that would need heavy editing. Or, I could stop, reassess, and make the changes now, forgoing my deadline. As much as I want to be superwoman, I had to take a step back.

Then, knowing what needed to be done and how much rewriting I needed (after the rewriting I was already doing), I found myself stuck again. This time by a different feeling: Guilt.

Why am I not the person who writes 30,000 words in a weekend? Why am I not the person who writes flawlessly the first time? (And honestly, WHO are these people, and what voodoo magic do they possess?) Why do I suck? Why, why, WHY?

As if I don’t have enough things in my life to worry about, I proceeded to beat myself up for not being creative in exactly the right way to instantaneously achieve my dreams. (Who the heck do I think I am, anyway?) Creativity it tough. And fickle. Sometimes I sit, and brilliance comes from my fingers. Other times, I write utter garbage. Problem is, I can’t predict when that will happen. So, I sit, and I hope.

I knew I wouldn’t make my deadline sometime last week. Still, I pushed forward, hoping against hope my garbage would turn to brilliance simply because it was on the page. How wrong I was. I spent the last few days deleting and cutting and pasting, salvaging what can be salvaged, and rewriting the rest. I’m still at 55,000 words, but you know what I no longer feel? Guilty. I feel accomplished.

Somewhere along the way, I made a conscious decision to forgive myself. Not only for missing my deadline, but for being less than perfect. And then I got to work.

I love writing, but sometimes it doesn’t love me back. Sometimes it means late nights and rejection and tears. Sometimes it means hating myself and every word I’ve ever written. Other times, it means losing myself for hours in a manuscript I’ve poured my heart and soul into.

But no part has ever been perfect, including the person sitting at this laptop.

So, this week, as I watch my deadline come and go, I’ll sit myself right back here at my laptop and chip away at my manuscript. Does the failure hurt? Of course it does. But this too shall pass, and failure is just another learning experience.

Be gentle with yourself. Sometimes you need to fail, to fall, but it’s the getting back up that matters.

Author photoKacey Vanderkarr writes about brave teenagers and unfortunate situations. Her short story, “Distraction,” is featured in NYC’s Subway Library and the inaugural issue of Ember: A Journal of Luminous Things. By day, Kacey is a sonographer, coffee addict, and proud member of SCBWI and the Flint Area Writers group. @kacimari

Be(ing) a Writer

No writer I’ve ever met thought that the writing journey would be hard when they first started. Or not hard in the way that we all, eventually, discover it is.

When you first start writing, the idea, the masterpiece that is your world, your characters are all bright and shiny and oh, so exciting! The only thing you think about is how to write faster, write better, write what you see or feel or need to write.

And yes, there are snags (that you knew would come), but they are okay. That’s all part of the writing process, right? But once you get your agent (or book deal, or self-pub your manuscript) it will all go smoothly. It’s like our vision of marriage: there’s a countdown to the wedding but nothing for after. And yet the after is just as important as the before and the big D-Day. If not more so. And the same is true of being a writer.

Pretty quickly we all discover that getting an agent is tough. So we focus on that (because everything will be fine after that, right?). And, eventually, many do get agents. But then you have to get the book deal (why didn’t anyone ever tell us that would be so hard? we have an agent, right? everything should be fine now, right?). But no, getting a book deal is just as hard as getting an agent (and maybe even more frustrating because you already have an agent and no one wants to hear you complain about not getting a book deal when they can’t get an agent, so who can you talk to about it?). So you push your frustration to the side, write a second manuscript that your agent loves and… still can’t sell it. Even though you have a great agent. Even if your book is your heart book and rings true and is even better than the book your agent signed you on for.

Because the truth of the matter is, the market – especially for YA right now – is tough.

Getting an agent is tough.

Getting a book deal is tough.

Getting sales and meeting your sell-through is tough.

Getting a second deal is tough.

Getting – and keeping – an audience is tough.


So what can you do? Switch to MG? or adult? become a painter?

No – not unless it’s already in you! But even if you did, those markets are tough too. There is no ‘easy’ way to success (in this case meaning getting published and selling books regularly) as a writer.

And it’s this part of the journey that is hard. Because it’s out of your control.

If you’ve written a book, you know you are a writer. You can plot and revise and create characters. You can see a huge undertaking all the way through it’s many circuitous and sometimes frustrating routes. You have the internal strength to actually produce a finished manuscript (or two or three or four). And that’s no small achievement because not everyone can.

But no matter what you do, you can’t make an agent sign you, make an editor offer you a contract, or make a reader buy your book. Nope, not going to happen. And with the market as it is, with so many talented writers not getting signed on by agents, or once they are signed on, not getting the book deal, or if they’ve self-pubbed not being able to get readers to buy their books, it becomes insanely frustrating – if you let it.

But you can’t let it get to you or it will pull you down.

What I’ve come to learn is that being a writer isn’t actually about getting an agent or a contract or making sales (even if all those things are great). Being a writer is about writing. About allowing those creative ideas that you have to materialize. To put words down on paper and then to stroke them until they actually tell the story you wanted them to tell.

So what can you do when the business of publishing is tough?

Keep writing.

Keep letting your ideas flow.

Keep yourself open to all options.

Find what’s right for you.

And write.

Always, write.


And have faith.


If you have a deep rooted desire to write, you need to continue writing.

No one but you can give you legitimacy.

You are a writer because you write.

And that will be true no matter what happens on your journey,

no matter how many of your manuscripts do or don’t get published,

no matter how many agents reject or accept you,

no matter how many people read your books…

It’s just who you are.


So be a writer.



Born in the US, Dina von Lowenkraft has lived on 4 continents, worked as a graphic
artist for television and as a consultant in the fashion industry. She
is the Regional Advisor for SCBWI Belgium, where she lives with her
husband, two children, three horses and a cat. Her debut YA Fantasy,
DRAGON FIRE, was a finalist in ForeWord Reviews’ 2013 Book of the Year
Award, in the 2014 Eric Hoffer Award and in the 2014 Readers’ Favorite

Mirror, Mirror

Recently, I participated in a chat on Twitter. This was a good thing for at least two reasons: 1.) there was lots of lively, if compressed, conversation; and 2.) it proves that I’ve mastered hashtags.

But anyway, we were discussing beginnings in YA novels, and inevitably the subject of what NOT to do in the beginning of a novel came up. And equally inevitably, someone dropped the “never start with a character waking up” rule.

The problem with this particular “thou shalt not,” of course, is that lots of successful novels violate it. (Nine Princes in Amber, The Hunger Games, etc.) If it were really an ironclad rule—like, “never squash your head under a pneumatic press”—then we wouldn’t see people ignoring it all the time and living to tell the tale.

But it’s not a rule; it’s a preference, and that’s very much not the same thing.

When I pointed this out, another Tweeter argued that you should only break the “no waking up” rule if you have a very good reason to do so.

I couldn’t agree more. But then, you should never do anything in writing unless you have a very good reason to do so. Thus, once again, we’re not talking about rules versus non-rules; we’re not saying “no waking up” is a rule that can be broken only under the right circumstances while, say, “no character putting his or her head under a pneumatic press” is a non-rule that anyone can ignore with impunity. If you have a character put his or her head under a pneumatic press, you’d better have a good reason for it, just as you’d better have a good reason for inserting a conga line of elephants dressed like Groucho Marx.

Do you see what I’m getting at here?

Writing doesn’t have rules the same way reality does.

It has parameters and possibilities, and anything is possible within the right parameters.

Which brings me to another supposed “rule,” one that came up in the conversation as well: “no first-person narrator describing her or his reflection in a mirror.” There’s what we might call the “soft” version of this rule, which says never do so in the opening chapter, and the “hard” version, which says never do it anywhere, ever, for any reason, under pain of death (or at least, exile from the Eternal Order of Rule-Bound Writers).

But the problem with this “rule,” again, is that it’s violated on a regular basis. For example, I find the following passage in Margaret Stohl’s quite well-written and successful YA book Icons:

I watch my reflection in the window. My brown hair is dark and loose and matted with dirt and bile. My skin is pale and barely covers the handful of small bones that are me.

Nice writing, nice description, nice moment. Nice mirror (or, technically, window, but one that reflects in the manner of a mirror).

Plenty of books, YA or otherwise, allow the first-person narrator to engage in mirror-gazing. It’s a common technique for the very reason that it’s consistent with the reality readers know: one of the few available ways in which we can see ourselves is by looking into some reflective substance, whether that be a mirror, a window, a pool of water, your lover’s eyes, or the blade of a knife. Especially when you take photography out of the equation—which most fantasies do—how else are you supposed to see yourself?

I’m not being disingenuous here. I know that many writers make their first-person narrators look into mirrors because they don’t know what else to make them do, and somehow this convention has slipped into their minds as a good thing to have first-person narrators doing. I’m not saying you couldn’t describe your first-person narrator in some more interesting or original way, a way that’s more in keeping with the actual novel you’re writing. (I tried to do that in my deep-space adventure Freefall, where my narrator reads personal data on the screen of his life pod.) So I’m not defending every instance of first-person-narrator-mirror-gazing that’s ever been written. Some of these instances are no doubt poorly written, poorly thought out, poorly motivated.

But many are not. Many are brilliantly written, cleverly thought out, ingeniously motivated. And thus they’re fine. They’re exactly right. They belong.

In writing, each beginning, each scene, each word needs to find its own rightness, its own reason for existence.

If it can do that, keep it. If it can’t, lose it.

So let’s put an end to punitive novel-gazing. Let’s put an end to the literary correctness police. Let’s put an end to absolute writing rules, when we all know that, like mirrors, they were made to be broken without the slightest bad luck ensuing.

Bellin GandalfJoshua David Bellin has been writing novels since he was eight years old (though the first few were admittedly very short). He is the author of three YA science fiction novels: Survival Colony 9, Scavenger of Souls, and Freefall. Josh loves to read, watch movies, and spend time in Nature with his kids. Oh, yeah, and he likes monsters. Really scary monsters.