It’s exactly one week away from the release day of Positively Beautiful. Woo-hoo! It’s been two years since I sold Positively Beautiful, and it’s hard to believe that it’s all about to happen. I’ve been thinking a lot about how I started this journey, about how I jumped on this train that is barreling toward a station that is now exactly ONE WEEK AWAY.
My youngest kid was getting ready to start kindergarten, and while I cherish and appreciate the years I spent at home with my kids when they were little, there was this widening hole in my heart where sticky, little boy hugs and afternoons at the park used to reside. My baby was going to school and what on earth was I going to do with the rest of my life?
Cue: lifelong dream.
I always knew I wanted to be a writer. In fact, I was a writer, because regardless of whether you are published, or not, you are a writer if you WRITE. So now what? I’d been thinking a lot about an article I’d read about a woman with the BRCA gene mutation, and her teenage daughters who would soon learn that they had a good chance (50% to be exact) of having a gene mutation that would give them up to an 80% lifetime risk of breast cancer. At the time I was thinking about writing an adult book, because up until then, that was all I had ever written. But, in the long, still nights when my thoughts wound dreamily around story ideas, all I could think about were the teenage daughters. And, truly, I’d been thinking more and more about my teenage years as I’d gotten older, so maybe…maybe I could…Maybe. I didn’t know if I could do it. I really didn’t.
But time was passing, and I needed to do something, so I took a deep breath and took a header of that cliff. The story began taking shape in my head. Sixteen-year-old girl. Flying. An island. A best friend who was all heart. A pen pal who was also facing the same struggle. A mother with breast cancer. Ah, yes, here we go.
The writing of the book took a little longer than a month. It was only 50,000 words, because at the time, I knew very little about modern young adult books. That was being remedied quickly as I dove into young adult books with voracious energy. These books were good. These book were real. How did I ever think that they were somehow second best to adult books? I was adoring the genre and feeling better about my decision.
But still, I struggled. Because while I could remember with frightening detail what it felt like to be a teenager, things have changed. A LOT. Kids are more mature in some ways than I remember being. Or maybe kids come across as mature, while in their hearts they are embarrassed, and unsure, and just plain scared? That’s how I still feel, on a regular basis. Technology, hobbies, the lingo, the world, had changed so much. Maybe this wasn’t my cup of tea after all. Maybe I should go back to writing about adults and their well-ordered, reasonable emotions. Why did I ever think I could write a book for teens?
My new agent, Sarah Davies (who is just plain awesome. Every day.) talked me down from my tree. Just write a good story, Wendy. And I realized that the basic emotions remain the same. Teens might be in a different world, but deep down, the uncertainty, the feeling that they are in a game where everybody knows the rules but forgot to mention, that will never change.
So I wrote Positively Beautiful from the gut. Perhaps that will change as I get more seasoned and become more accustomed to writing in my genre, but, honestly? I hope it doesn’t.
My youngest kid was getting ready to start kindergarten, and while I cherish and appreciate the years I spent at home with my kids when they were little, there was this widening hole in my heart where sticky, little boy hugs and afternoons at the park used to reside. My baby was going to school and what on earth was I going to do with the rest of my life?
Cue: lifelong dream.
I always knew I wanted to be a writer. In fact, I was a writer, because regardless of whether you are published, or not, you are a writer if you WRITE. So now what? I’d been thinking a lot about an article I’d read about a woman with the BRCA gene mutation, and her teenage daughters who would soon learn that they had a good chance (50% to be exact) of having a gene mutation that would give them up to an 80% lifetime risk of breast cancer. At the time I was thinking about writing an adult book, because up until then, that was all I had ever written. But, in the long, still nights when my thoughts wound dreamily around story ideas, all I could think about were the teenage daughters. And, truly, I’d been thinking more and more about my teenage years as I’d gotten older, so maybe…maybe I could…Maybe. I didn’t know if I could do it. I really didn’t.
But time was passing, and I needed to do something, so I took a deep breath and took a header of that cliff. The story began taking shape in my head. Sixteen-year-old girl. Flying. An island. A best friend who was all heart. A pen pal who was also facing the same struggle. A mother with breast cancer. Ah, yes, here we go.
The writing of the book took a little longer than a month. It was only 50,000 words, because at the time, I knew very little about modern young adult books. That was being remedied quickly as I dove into young adult books with voracious energy. These books were good. These book were real. How did I ever think that they were somehow second best to adult books? I was adoring the genre and feeling better about my decision.
But still, I struggled. Because while I could remember with frightening detail what it felt like to be a teenager, things have changed. A LOT. Kids are more mature in some ways than I remember being. Or maybe kids come across as mature, while in their hearts they are embarrassed, and unsure, and just plain scared? That’s how I still feel, on a regular basis. Technology, hobbies, the lingo, the world, had changed so much. Maybe this wasn’t my cup of tea after all. Maybe I should go back to writing about adults and their well-ordered, reasonable emotions. Why did I ever think I could write a book for teens?
My new agent, Sarah Davies (who is just plain awesome. Every day.) talked me down from my tree. Just write a good story, Wendy. And I realized that the basic emotions remain the same. Teens might be in a different world, but deep down, the uncertainty, the feeling that they are in a game where everybody knows the rules but forgot to mention, that will never change.
So I wrote Positively Beautiful from the gut. Perhaps that will change as I get more seasoned and become more accustomed to writing in my genre, but, honestly? I hope it doesn’t.
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