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What If I'm Not Really Pretending?

2/27/2014

I’ve always wanted to write children's books. Even as a child.

My nine-year-old self wrote pages and pages of a story entitled “Video Visitors," which told the tale of the mischief and mayhem that results when alien siblings named Cosmos and Cadette transport themselves to Earth via VHS tapes. It probably (totally!) would have won me a Newbery Award, but it remains unfinished, the victim of distractions so pertinent as weaving potholders or making friendship bracelets or attending soccer practice.

Fast forward to today. I’ve read hundreds and hundreds of picture books as a parent and as a teacher and now I'm chasing that forever-old dream of writing them. These days, I spend a lot of time alone at a computer. I sit and I think and I write and I smile and I send and I get a rejection and I frown and I suck it up and I sit and I think and I edit and I write some more. I try to learn and grow and get better. I try and I try and I try. It’s usually a lot of fun but it can also be pretty discouraging and lonely at times.

Lately, especially so.

Maybe it’s this winter, so cold and dark and gray. Maybe it’s the uncertainty of this new writing life I’ve started, this dream-chasing and the question marks that float all around it like week-old party balloons. Last week, I was in desperate need of a pick-me-up. I needed to know I’d made the right decision when I decided to write. Chasing a dream can be really scary, especially when the path to that dream is dotted with so many unknowns. Along with my countless cups of coffee I have my daily doses of self-doubt, fear, and Am-I-crazy-for-doing-this? moments. I prefer the coffee.

As a teacher, I could turn to other teachers when I hit a slump. Teacher conferences always gave me that get-up-and-go, that little surge of inspiration, that reminder that I was where I belonged, doing what I should be doing. But, as of last week, I didn’t know many other writers. And I certainly wasn’t sure that I was doing what I should be doing.

Timing is everything.

Last weekend, I packed up my gorgeous new business cards, thanks to Minted.com and my dear friend MJ at Pars Caeli. Seriously, they're gorgeous! I felt so professional. I know you shouldn't judge a book by its cover, but I was fine with being judged by these.

And I packed up my cute little notebook, a gift from former student. (Thank you, Iris!)

And I headed to the SCBWI Winter Conference in New York with a heart and head full of nervous excitement. Would they know I was new? Would they think I was just pretending? How can I call myself a writer when I’m not even published (even if I do have gorgeous business cards)?

And then the conference started.

The Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators are my people.  I hadn’t the slightest notion of the brilliance and openness of the community that lives at the heart of children’s book writing and illustrating. Until this weekend.

And they welcomed me. Me. With all my doubt and question balloons.

Parents and teachers, rest assured: there are amazing and incredibly talented people who love children – really, truly love children – behind the books your kids love to read. I just met a whole lot of them in New York. Some were really famous. Some weren't at all. All work really hard to create good, beautiful, meaningful words and pictures for kids to embrace. They want to touch lives - and maybe even change them - with their work.

Wow.

The wonderful Kate Messner, author of many fabulous books, presented a keynote on the power of failure that was most certainly the antithesis of a failure (and, oh, it was like she was speaking directly to me!). In it, she shared this poem. Like every author and illustrator I met, I want to write a book like the one Kate's poem describes, one that a child feels was written “just for me.” So I’ll keep at it, even if I still sometimes feel like I'm pretending.

Because, really, I often felt like I was pretending as a teacher. Even after years and years in the classroom. Don't we all feel that way sometimes?

They themselves “the Tribe.” Their words of encouragement lifted me. Their emphasis on patience and persistence and, above all, hard work bolstered me. Their talent and willingness to share inspired me. And, believe it or not, I met quite a few others who didn't think they could yet be called "writer." And just as many who said, "Yes, you can. And yes, you are."

It’s good to belong.

Thank you, SCBWI. Thank you, Kate Messner. Thank you to everyone who’s been supporting me in my dream-chasing adventure and even to those who’ve so far told me no.

I’ll keep working on my words. Because someday a kid somewhere will read them.

Here’s to writing, reading, smiling, and gorgeous business cards. Gorgeous business cards can help you feel a little less pretend-y. At least on paper.

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Monkeys, Angry Birds, and Getting Out of the Way

2/18/2014

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When I was a teacher, lots of parents would ask me how to get their children to love to read. I worked at schools with wonderful librarians who had wonderful insights and wonderful ideas, and together we’d suggest all sorts of wonderful books that might work.

Sometimes they did, and sometimes they didn’t. Every kid was different.

The reality is that not everyone loves to read. While book lovers (and, especially, book lovers who are also parents) have a very difficult time understanding this, it’s not the end of the world.

A child might not love to read, but that doesn’t mean they have to hate it.

And so we’d tell parents to let their kids read what they like: magazines, comic books, newspapers, and so on. Reading is reading.

My daughter, who is just shy of two, loves books. She brings book after book to pretty much anyone who’s not the dog, offering a smile and a “Read dis” request. She sits alone in her crib and lines up her stuffed animals and baby dolls, tells them to sit down in her fierce, almost-teacher-y toddler voice, flips the pages, and shouts, over and over again: “No more monkeys jump on BED!” While she’s not really reading, she’s reciting from her little-girl memory the parts of the books she likes best with such passion and enthusiasm that it makes me want to read my own book right then with the hope that I can share at least part of her excitement.

This little girl will probably be a passionate, ravenous reader. She can’t get enough. And she wants her friends (even the inanimate ones) to love her books, too. Maybe someday she’ll bring bags of coins to the bookstore to buy the latest book in a series, like I did when the newest Baby-sitters Club book came out. I was that kid.

My son, a very active and highly imaginative four-year-old boy, likes books and loves to be read to, but if given a choice between Legos and sitting down to read, like most boys I’ve known, he’ll go with Legos 99% of the time. He’s become particular, too, about the books we read, preferring plot-less stories about a Lego town or books that have no story but come with Legos. When he receives a book as a gift, he’s always looking for what toy might come with it and looks so sad when there isn’t one. As a former teacher and lover of good books, this hurts me a little. And I love Legos.

I want my son to love books. I want him to get lost in a beautiful story and think about the characters and why they do what they do and what he’d do if it were him.

I don’t want to spend money on the silly nonsense books, no matter how much he begs for them.

But then I remember that while he might not love books right now, he likes these ones. In fact, he begs for them. That should be enough, at least for now.

Just as we should allow children to write what they love, we should let them read what they love, too. Even if we don’t necessarily love it, too.

Pushing too hard or pushing too much “just try this instead” just might turn that tiny bit of existing interest into disinterest, or, even worse, dislike.

While not (at least in my mind) anywhere near the caliber of Where the Wild Things Are, Angry Birds Star Wars books just might awaken in a child the excitement of turning the page to see what happens next. While the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles picture book might not be quality children’s literature, it might be a tiny doorway into a future full of reading. And maybe that future will include books with a bit more substance. But we have to get through that doorway first.

So, I’ll buy the books I wouldn’t want to read. Even the ones that make my writer/reader/teacher nose wrinkle in disgust at their utter nonsense and lack of mainstream literary value. And I’ll read them to my son because he wants to read them and I want him to want to be a reader. I want him to love books, so I’ll try not to get in the way.

Because when it comes to getting kids to like reading, anything should count.

Here’s to writing, reading, smiling, and knowing when to get out of the way.

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You Look Radishing: A Love Letter to Words

2/11/2014

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I love you more than a ten-pound truck.

I love you to the moon and the stars and the arcade.

I love you more than lollipops and lemonade.

I love you as much as thirty hundred.

Sometimes I need to look no further than my four-year-old son for inspiration. He sure does know a lot about love. His enthusiasm and imagination and perspective take even the most ordinary of observations and turn them into gold.

He also loves words, which makes him even more fun to be around. He soaks them up like a sponge and pulls them out when I least expect them, big words that he’s heard grownups or cartoon characters use, words that he sometimes uses correctly but almost always spins in his perfectly preschoolish way.

“You look radishing,” he announced one morning as I came downstairs in my pajamas. Radishing. A lovely compliment for a still-sleepy, bed-headed mother, even from a child who won’t touch a single vegetable. There’s a book in there somewhere.

My little word-lover’s love for words is just the push I need when I’m writing. He reminds me of the wonder of words – how exciting and useful and valuable they can be. He reminds me that the right word can be the most perfect, flawless thing, even if the word itself isn’t an actual word in the dictionary or used in the correct context. And finding that just-right word is what makes writing for kids so much fun.

These days, I feel so lucky, once again, to be waking up each morning able to spend the day doing something I love. Writing, like teaching, invites me to sidle up close to my imagination and allows me to explore so many words, those little linguistic treasures that hide in the everyday, just waiting to be discovered, perfectly suited for a tale yet to be told.

The brilliant Ray Bradbury said this about writing:

Love. Fall in love and stay in love. Write only what you love, and love what you write. The key word is love. You have to get up in the morning and write something you love, something to live for.

Write only what you love. What if we let our kids do that, at least to start? It sure would be a whole lot more fun that way. We tend to have more words for the things we really care about, and those words are usually the best ones.

For the kids out there, I’ve posted a few more What-ifs to help them spark a little writing love and get those words flowing.

What are your favorite words? What are your kids’favorites?

Happy Valentine’s Day. Here’s to writing, reading, and smiling. And words. Love those words.

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What if... your dog ran away and changed his name?

2/4/2014

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Hi Moms and Dads! Every now and then, I’m going to share a story here based on a what-if from the Just for Kids page. In these "What if?" posts I walk through the process of using a what-if question to write a story. I’ll write the story and include some notes about how I kept it going. They're meant to help kids navigate their own writing process, but you can help, too.

Ask your child this what-if before reading the story below. Talk about the question and how they (and you!) might answer.
Help your child develop their own questions before they start writing and as they go if needed.
Talk with them about all sorts of possibilites - get creative and even outrageous if that helps. Is there anything they've ever wondered about? Something they wished could happen? Imagination is the key to making this fun.
Maybe share some of your own what-ifs - what are some things that you wished could happen? Kids love to see their parents dream, too!

This is an easy what-if for me, because it kind of really happened. But maybe not in this exact same way...

First, I asked this question: What if your dog ran away and changed his name?

Then, I thought about why a dog might run away. What if he was sad about something?

Murphy the Dog was sweet. Loving. Fiercely loyal.

But he wasn’t very smart.

No dog had ever loved a family as much as Murphy loved his.

But today he was sad.

First, he had been happy – wildly, rambunctiously happy. Happier, he thought, than any dog could possibly be.

His family had a new person. A new, tiny, wiggling, noisy little person.

She didn’t do much other than cry. But she didn’t seem to mind his kisses, which made her all right. And he thought she smelled nice, even when his other people didn’t seem to think so.

Murphy was excited to have her around. Perhaps a little too excited, because he knocked over a table and was sent directly out into the backyard.

Murphy moped a bit. He lay in the shade of a tree, wondering why he wasn’t welcome.

Now I asked myself: Why would he leave the yard? What if he chases a squirrel?

But then he stopped worrying. Instead, he spotted a squirrel leaping off the gate into the front yard.

So, of course, being a dog and also being not-so-smart, Murphy jumped over the gate after that squirrel.

So, now that we know why he ran away, we need to figure out why he changed his name. What if he takes a little walk first?

Over-the-gate was an exciting place. Murphy had never been there without a leash. He felt so free!

He looked all over for that squirrely squirrel, who at this point had already climbed the tallest tree and was chattering at him in a teasing tone.

Murphy decided instead to do a bit of exploring.

Now – where can he go where his name might get changed? What if he meets a child?

He sniffed trees, fire hydrants, flowers, and bushes. He trotted and stood still like a statue and then trotted some more. He looked and listened and lifted his leg where he probably shouldn’t. And then he heard a voice.

“Come here, boy!”

Murphy, who was, as we’ve said, sweet, loving, and fiercely loyal, saw the boy he’d never seen before and scampered over to him, his tail wagging so quickly it could propel a boat. The boy, who’d just moved to the neighborhood, had always wanted a dog.

The boy wrapped his arms around Murphy’s neck.

“Mom! Can we keep him?” he called into his house.

“Sam!” the boy’s mother replied. “He has a collar. I’m sure he has an owner. Let’s see what his name is.”

As his mother looked for Murphy’s tags, the boy announced, “I think I’ll call him James.”

“James,” thought Murphy. “That’s a nice name. I like it.”

Now that we know how he changed his name: How does he get home? What if his family finds him?

“Sweetie,” the boy’s mother said, jingling Murphy’s tags. “His name is Murphy. He lives up the street.”

Just then, Murphy heard his other name – his real name. His family ran frantically toward him. His tongue bounced from his slobbery mouth as he watched.

“There you are!” they cried. Murphy got more hugs. All of this attention was nice. He wasn't feeling so sad anymore.

“Oh, James.” Sam had tears in his eyes. “I mean, Murphy. I’ll miss you.”

“You can come visit,” said Murphy’s person, introducing himself to Sam and his mother. “You're welcome to play with him anytime. Hey, James is a pretty good name. Maybe we can call him Murphy James. Thank you for finding him!”

Sam nodded happily.

“Murphy James,” Murphy thought. “I like the sound of that.”

What a fantastic day! He had two new people to love. And now he had two names!

Murphy James headed home, proudly carrying his new name with him.

See! Writing isn’t so hard if you keep asking questions as you go. What if you tried this one on your own? What would happen? Give it a try!

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Outsmarting Mr. Freeze

2/4/2014

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My four-year-old son, quite predictably, loves all things superhero. Lately he’s been crazy about Batman and his battles with Gotham City’s most vile villains. He’s partial right now to the stories in which Batman defeats Mr. Freeze.

Mr. Freeze’s criminal technique involves – you guessed it – cold and ice. He often freezes his victims with his ice gun, or, far worse, his ice cannon. Because of his not-so-gentle, icy approach, he tends to work alone.

I, too, really like to see Batman win in this particular matchup.

Because I write for a living.

When you’re writing, Mr. Freeze can come along at any time. Not knowing what to write about – either at the beginning, middle, or end of the process – can be a lot like getting stuck in a torrent of ice from Mr. Freeze’s ice cannon.

And man, is it cold.

And when you’re a kid, it’s even worse – even colder – because you’re often sitting in a classroom full of distractions, doubt, and deadlines dictated by a bell hanging in the hall.

As a teacher, I often tried to make writing easier for my students by giving them a lot of choice in their topic. Sometimes I’d leave it completely open-ended within a genre of writing, sometimes I’d narrow it down a bit more, but I always wanted them to have some say in what they wrote about.

Because we do our best writing when we really love what we’re writing about.

Most people do, anyway.

Kind of like reading, we’re only really invested if we actually enjoy the words and the subject. We have to care.

But I realize that even tons of choice doesn’t always help, because sometimes too much can be overwhelming. Mr. Freeze can still cause his chilly chaos.

But we can practice.

We can write about lots of different things.

And that can be fun, no matter how much you like or don’t like or absolutely hate to write.

And maybe then imagination and fancy can take over, thawing away the icicles of doubt and uncertainly and not knowing that occupy our brains.

Practice. Imagine. What if?

The section of this website that’s Just for Kids is meant to help kids figure out something to write about when Mr. Freeze pays a visit. It’s also meant to help kids practice their writing, sharpening their skills, looking at things from a different angle. Because all it really takes is a good what-if.

Young (and not-so-young) writers don’t need Batman.

They just need to ask some questions.

Take that, Mr. Freeze!

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How We Got Here

2/4/2014

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So here we are. My first official, not-directed-only-at-my-students-for-poetry-homework-purposes blog. Thanks for reading, even if you don't get past this part.

Sometimes I wonder how I got here, how I became Kelly Hochbein, Writer. I'd always dreamed of this, but other dreams came first.

I was a classroom teacher for thirteen years. I lived, breathed, and (barely) slept teaching. When I wasn't a classroom teacher, I was working at a university with classroom teachers. So, up until recently, I was three things: mother, wife, teacher. I was these things all the time, and "teacher" was the one I'd been the longest. I loved teaching, but I'd also always wanted to be a writer. I'd read children's books day and night and think, "I'd love to do that. I think I could do that." But there was never enough time to do it right.

So when my family relocated and the teacher part didn't really fit into place in our new place, I suddenly had time. More time with my kids, more time to write. So I became mother, wife, writer. And I am writing. A lot. And I love it.

Writing, though, is scarier than I thought it would be. As a teacher, I tried new things all the time - new lesson plans, new approaches, new corny jokes. Some succeeded, some didn't, but as a teacher, you learn to brush that stuff off and try again. It seems a bit harder as a writer. Even though you spend a lot of time by yourself, sitting at a computer or with a notebook, you put your words - yourself - out there to be judged and accepted or rejected by others. It was somehow easier to have a fifth grader roll his eyes at me than it is to wait, like a teenage girl waiting for that boy to call and invite her to prom, for an answer about the words that I've released through the internet or the US Postal Service.

Some days are really hard. Waiting is really hard. And the life of a writer can be really, really hard.

But, thankfully, I've taught some incredible kids over the years, and those kids have taught me some pretty big life lessons. Like this one, written right before my move by a very loving and hardworking child:

First of all, this makes me think of all the things those kids wrote for me. They, too sent their writing out into the world for me to judge. Sometimes it was really hard for them to do that. I hope I was always kind.

Secondly, this sentence stops me in my tracks every time I read it: "I will not give up, and I know you won't either!"

The hard stuff doesn't seem so hard when I think of this child never giving up and believing that I, too, will follow my dreams.

This letter hangs right above my desk, a constant reminder to keep writing, keep growing, keep trying. It makes me smile every single day.

This blog is a place for me to write about the things that keep me writing. It's about sharing stories and sharing myself and sharing ideas. It's about helping kids love to write and writing things that kids and parents will love to read.

Because we all want to make someone else smile.

Here's to writing and reading and smiling. And waiting. Lots of waiting.

Kelly

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What If I'm Not Really Pretending?

Monkeys, Angry Birds, and Getting Out of the Way

You Look Radishing: A Love Letter to Words

What if... your dog ran away and changed his name?

Outsmarting Mr. Freeze

How We Got Here

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