Teaching

My letter of introduction, 2017

Each year I write my students a letter of introduction that I read to them on the first day.  Their first homework is to write me a letter back.  This is my 11th letter, and one I’m proud of.  Enjoy.

August 23, 2017

Dear Students,

I’m getting comfortable with failure.  Failure is the wrong word, though.  Failure is so final, it denotes an ending with nothing beyond it.  Struggle is the word I prefer.  Struggle isn’t over; struggle can continue; struggle keeps trying.  So, I will say that I’m getting comfortable with struggle.  Except comfortable is also the wrong word.  Struggle is never comfortable or easy.  But I’m getting better at struggle, at not letting struggle equal failure.

I’m getting better at struggle by being a writer.  I’ve written two novels (which add up to 130,000 words, not counting all the words I cut or rewrote) and 5, 6, or 7 picture books—fewer words, but more agony over each one.  And I’ve submitted my writing to strangers 400 times.  I copy the email address and I click send, hoping I didn’t miss a typo, didn’t misspell the recipient’s name or (gag!) my own.

The letter a writer sends out with her sample pages is called a query.  Query, which shares a root with inquire and question.  I am asking a question: do you like this?  Do you want to help me make this into paper and ink that will be dog-eared and underlined, carried in backpacks, passed from hand to hand?

What I’m really asking is, “Is this any good?”

But I write cool, collected query letters.

“I think you might like this…”

“I’ve attached the first ten pages…”

“I’d be happy to send the full manuscript…”

I try not to let my longing show through in these emails, like love letters stripped of their love.  I don’t tell them that I’ve sent them a piece of my soul, hours and hours and hours spent clicking away at my desk in a closet, during babies’ naps or after bedtime kisses.

I sign my letters “Sincerely,” but “Lovingly” is a better fit.  I’m sending the child of my brain in 0s and 1s across the air, flashes of light in fiber optic cables; sending a signal that I hope will materialize in the mind of the reader, and tell a story they didn’t know they wanted to hear.

I told a friend about waiting months for a response to arrive.  She said, “It’s teaching you to hold things lightly.”  Perhaps that’s it.  In front of the blank page I don’t hold back, I jump Geronimo off of outline bridges into streams of Times New Roman.  But then I release my words into the world accepting that maybe no one will read them, or the ones that do won’t like them.

But I keep thinking of that lottery slogan, “You can’t win if you don’t play,” and playing in this case means making something out of nothing and then accepting that that something might truly be nothing, nothing I can control, so something only for me.  Maybe?

I wonder if you, dear students, add up all the quizzes and the tests and the papers, the rewrites and the early help sessions, the red pen slashes, the “come see me’s” and the “this needs more work.”  Have you reached 400?  Double that?  We ask you each day to put some part of you on the page or the board and we tell you what didn’t work and maybe what did.  So who am I to be sad or discouraged?  Perhaps I’ve just gotten too far away from being a student, I’ve forgotten how to struggle and continue, as you do each day.

Because there’s no way from here to there without going through this.  No shortcuts.  You have to cut through the red pen and the paper with the machete of your mind.  Hack a path, all on your own.

But you, you’ve got me.  I’m just ahead of you, I’ve made it through this particular jungle and I’ve sketched a map that will help me to help you.  Sometimes maybe you can see me and sometimes you can’t, and you’ll wonder what I know anyway.  Maybe you’d be better just to set down and quit struggling.  You’ve had to double back, you’ve hit dead-ends, maybe none of this is worth it.

But, I know.  I know that you will make it. I know this even when you doubt.  I believe when you won’t.  If you will just keep swinging the blade, inquiring of the universe, asking the question again and again.

What I want is for you to be willing to struggle.  Don’t ask me to lie to you and just tell you that you’ve arrived, that you don’t need to go any further.  Don’t ask me to tell you that the struggle is over.  Maybe you hope you’re different, that you got lucky and landed right near the end and soon you’ll get to rest.

“Oh baby,” (I croon in the voice of Billie Holiday) “there is no rest.”  But you’re moving forward, I promise.  Sometimes it’s slow, and sometimes it’s fast.  Sometimes you’re even backtracking.  But sometimes you gotta go back to move forward and I won’t quit you if you don’t quit yourself.

Who am I anyway?  I’m Mrs. Griswold.  I’ll be your struggle guru teacher this year and this is my lucky 7th year at Harpeth Hall—that must be good omen.  I have three kids whose pictures dot my bulletin board.  I have an old dog who’s afraid of thunder, 6 chickens, and I keep bees in my backyard.  I’m a slow runner, but I like to do it.  I’m a theater major who now performs for audiences of 16 and gets to analyze plays every year.

Before I lived in Nashville, I lived in New York City.  Before that, London and Cleveland.  Back even further I lived in Caracas, Venezuela from 7th grade to 12th, and Mexico City for 5th and 6th grade.  I speak Spanish fluently and enough Portuguese to have conversations in the present tense.  Until age 10 I lived in Cincinnati.  So where am I from?  The answer is complicated but I’m happy to call Nashville home now.

Before we begin, would you write me a letter?  Tell me about who you are.  What are you struggling with?  How does struggle feel to you?  Where are you going?  How can I help you?  What do you love?

Sincerely (Lovingly),

Meg Griswold

Teaching, Writing

Lab Girl Review

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I remember really well when I first heard about Lab Girl by Hope Jahren.  I was driving across town between teaching classes, trying to make it to a PreK tour on time.  I was listening to On Point on NPR and I heard an interview wherein Jahren read an excerpt of Lab Girl.  I had been swearing at the traffic that was making me late, but listening to Jahren read aloud from her book, I burst into tears.  She has a line that just cut me right to the quick.  It’s from a passage that is a few pages long where every paragaph begins “My lab is…” Here’s the quote I remember bringing me to tears:

There is no phone and so it doesn’t hurt when someone doesn’t call me.  the door is locked and I know everyone who has a key.  Because the outside world cannot come into the lab, thelab has become the place where I can be the real me. (19)

I had to jog across the street to the school from my parked car, wiping my eyes and sniffing.  I made it to my tour just a few minutes late, and I knew I needed to read that book.

I had a baby in December of last year and I finally got my chance to read it this summer when I used my Christmas gift card to Parnassus from my in-laws.  It did not disappoint!

(Sometimes I find it extra hard to write about a book I really loved.  It’s almost too hard to articulate what my heart is saying, so bear with me.)

Lab Girl is the memoir of a Paleobotanist.  She studies ancient plant fossils, and sometimes living fossils.  She does some geology, too, but plants are her passion.  Her book begins with her as a child in her father’s lab, but it quickly zooms forward and follows her in college, grad school and then working as a researcher and professor at a bunch of universities.

I love the structure of Lab Girl.  The chapters alternate between botany and memoir.  So, the odd numbers would be chapters about how plants grow, how roots work, how plants communicate.  Some of it was basic science, but usually she jumped off of the well-explained basics to talk about cutting edge plant science.  But these chapters weren’t like a text book, they were like poetic love letters to trees and plants.  I loved reading them.

I also enjoyed the memoir sections.  The big themes were never having enough money, being lonely, impostor syndrome, staking your claim as a woman at the table.  So, you know, the same issues most professional women I know deal with.  That was what was so great and relatable.  She was really honest and open to her readers.  She talked about her struggles with mental health as well.  Those topics didn’t dominate the book, and there were times when she was holding back a bit, but I think she balanced the elements well.  The variety made this book a very enjoyable read.

I’m going to use a few excerpts from this with my AP Language students next year.  AP Language and Composition focuses on argument, rhetorical devices and language.  This book is chock full of lyrical, narrative nonfiction that uses language in powerful ways.  I’m actually going to pair a chapter she has on trees to a chapter of Sandra Cisneros semi-autobiographical novel The House on Mango Street, “Four Skinny Trees.”

What I really love about this book is that she is a very poetic, creative scientist.  At schools, the disciplines tend to get so segregated and I think that sometimes students feel like you can’t be a creative writer if you are good at math and science, and all poets must hate numbers.  Not true!  I don’t bring it up often, but I was a very strong math and science student both in high school and college.  I got A’s in Chemistry and Calculus in college and loved those classes.

Jahren has a strong sense of character as well.  Bill is a huge part of the story and I enjoyed getting to know him.  The chain smoking lab tech of her college days was also really vivid and alive on the page.

I also love a book that uses swearing well.  This definitely falls into that category.  I found myself repeating some lines of dialogue or narration out loud, either because they moved me or made me laugh.

Lab Girl is an excellent read and I highly recommend it, whether or not you’ve ever enjoyed science.  In fact, Jahren begins the book by telling you to think of a tree you know or look out your window at a tree.  Observe it.  Tada!  You’re a scientist.  Her book was welcoming and warm and I loved it from start to finish.

Uncategorized

When primary sources make you cry

I’ve spent the last year getting to know Elizabeth Tudor.  I have many posts coming about what I read and learned.  But, I feel as though I’ve come to know her.

In particular, I’ve focused on Elizabeth from age 13-15, from Henry VIII’s death to the year after Katherine Parr’s death in childbirth.  I teach English to girls of exactly that age, and after 10 years of teaching, I think I’ve learned a lot about the developing minds of teenage girls.  I adore teaching in an all-girls school, and I really love watching my student make discoveries and find their voices.  They are so smart, so funny, so hard working.  If you need a little hope for humanity, come to my classroom and see the women of the future leading a discussion around my big oval table.

So, my lens when I’m researching and writing about Elizabeth Tudor is to imagine her as one of my students.  Let me lay out what a whopper of a life this particular teenager would bring to my classroom:

  • Mother dead, beheaded for adultery and treason.
  • Beheading was ordered by father.
  • Father just died.
  • Blended family: total of 3 kids, all with different moms, all those moms are dead.
  • Little brother just became king and is now totally distant and inaccessible.
  • Older sister is 17 years older and there’s some personal and religious tension.

Over the course of those years, 1546-1549, Elizabeth would move in with her stepmother who would then die in childbirth.  Her governess, Kat Ashley, who’d been with her since she was 3, would be thrown in the Tower, and Elizabeth herself would get accused of treason.  Starting in January 1549, Elizabeth was interrogated daily by a grown man living in her house for 2 months.  Friends, she was only 15 at this point.  Can you imagine a student in your classroom with that kind of home life?

In the course of my research, I read transcripts of two letters Elizabeth wrote while being interrogated under suspicion of treason–and remember she was without a parent or even a governess for support.  One letter in particular was written on the 7th of March, 1549 and was written to the Lord Protector.  Elizabeth’s brother was king, but he was still very young, so a Protector was appointed to rule while he came of age.  The purpose of her letter is to argue for the release of her governess, Kat, from the Tower.  Kat Ashley was like a mother to Elizabeth, not a perfect one, but the only constant she’d had in her tumultuous childhood.  There had been no evidence to formally charge Elizabeth with treason (not that Sir Robert Tyrwhit didn’t try to wring some out during her daily interrogations) and yet still her governess was locked in the Tower.  The same Tower where her mother had awaited execution 13 years earlier.

Can you imagine the agony of waiting and wondering what would come of Kat, the agony of a 15-year-old girl uncertain of the way forward, whose reputation had just been publicly dragged through the mud?

All I could find of this letter was typed transcripts.  I’m not joking when I say I found the edge of the Internet.  I found it.  There was not a digital image of that original manuscript anywhere on the Internet.  So, I went to that good ole citation in the back of the books I had been reading.  The manuscript was at the British Library.  Not all of their collection is digitized, so I had to make a special request to have the letter photographed and sent to me.  It took a little longer because they had to assess the state of the manuscript to make sure it was safe to handle without damage.  I’m guessing that had to be handled in one of those special temperature and humidity controlled rooms (I assume) and I am sure the person touching it used gloves and a gentle touch.  O that it had been me!  (Someday, friends, someday.)

A few weeks ago, I opened my email and saw the attachments–my images had arrived!  I opened them hungrily and started reading.  To see Elizabeth’s handwriting, the evidence of her frantic thoughts, to hear the scratch of the quill in my mind, trying to keep a cool head so that she could effectively write and persuade the most powerful man in the kingdom to listen to her.  And a life was riding on it.  Add to that the fact that Kat would not have ended up in the Tower if not for Elizabeth, and the guilt and fear must have been paralyzing.

Except Elizabeth wasn’t paralyzed or helpless.  That’s what’s so remarkable.  She didn’t quit.  She didn’t lay down and cry into the rug.

But, dear reader, I cried.  I cried at my laptop looking at the images.  My heart broke for that girl who could have been just another redheaded girl sitting around the table in my classroom.

Here is what it boils down to: I don’t think Elizabeth would have been the queen she was had it not been for this formative experience in her early teenage years.  These letters are the evidence.

If you’re wondering if you can see these letters, the answer is yes!  I am working with a history colleague on a digital humanities project with a website platform.  I’m going to teach a unit called “The Power of Persuasion” next year in my AP Language and Composition class that uses Elizabeth’s letters and speeches, in addition to the letters and speeches of a modern woman in politics.  Students will analyze the rhetorical devices and arguments presented by both Elizabeth I and the modern woman of their choosing.  I can’t wait to share these manuscripts with students next year.

And I will share those manuscripts with you as well.  I’m working on permission and rights currently.  I want to make sure I’m going by the book.  Stay tuned.

Writing

Writing my second novel

For the past year I’ve been simmering a few different ideas for my next big novel project.  I’m learning that I do best when I let lots of ideas hang out in my head until eventually one steps forward and takes the lead.

Right before I had a baby last December, I went to my local bookstore Parnassus (such a gem, Nashville is so lucky to have this place) and bought a new Elizabeth I biography, Elizabeth: Renaissance Prince by Lisa Hilton.  I have written an Elizabeth I picture book biography, and I was interested to see Lisa Hilton’s focus on gender, imagery, and education.

A few weeks after Everett was born, I was mentally ready to read a book, so I started hanging out in his nursery with the space heater keeping it nice and toasty, and the noise machine whirring away, and reading while he slept.  I called it my warm cave of silence.

I adored the book.  Lisa Hilton writes with great style and her sentences would often knock me over, like this one: “How often in her childhood did Elizabeth hear the word bastard?” (Lisa Hilton 40).  I had to stop and read that one aloud just to let it sink in.  I really loved the way Hilton zoomed out frequently to consider the big ideas and larger context, and the way she approached each of the “characters” in Elizabeth’s life.

I realized then how much there was to Elizabeth’s life that I wanted to explore.  I bought Alison Weir’s The Six Wives of Henry VIII, The Children of Henry VIII, and The Life of Elizabeth I.  I started listening to podcasts while I pushed the baby in his stroller during maternity leave, in particular I was so happy to stumble onto The History Chicks.  They, and many others, mentioned David Starkey’s biography of Elizabeth.  So I ordered that.  Then I ordered the beautiful The Public and Private Worlds of Elizabeth I by Susan Watkins, so that I could see some images of the places and things in Elizabeth’s world.

I also realized that I needed to know more about the details of Katherine Parr’s life.  For that, I read the lovely biography by Linda Porter, Katherine the Queen: The Remarkable Life of Katherine Parr, the Last Wife of Henry VIII.  As someone who has fallen down a rabbit whole of Tudor and Elizabethan era bios, I have to say that this one was my favorite and I enjoyed Ms. Porter’s writing the best.  (If I ever met her, I think I’d be too starstruck to speak.)

I was now becoming quite the consumer of biographies of Elizabeth and those associated with her.

The most intriguing part was the differences I started to notice between the different biographies.  I started reading completely different interpretations of, say, a letter to Katherine Parr in 1544.  How could that be?

The logical next step was to read the primary sources and decide for myself.  So, I ordered The Collected Works of Elizabeth I and The Word of a Prince: A Life of Elizabeth I from Contemporary Documents.  In reading those, I started to wonder what the original manuscripts looked like.  Now I was searching out images of original manuscripts in Elizabeth’s own hand. There really is something special about seeing words that she herself put on paper.

I also started looking for the original state papers and privy council documents that I read snippets of in the various biographies I’d read.  What other parts of the letters and documents was each biographer leaving out?  Maybe there was something in those unquoted parts that would tell me something that I might find significant.  I’ve now learned how to use the British Library’s digital collection, and the British History Online‘s collection of state papers.  I really knew I’d hit the big time when I put in a special request to the British Library for digital images of some of the original manuscripts that weren’t available online–and I have to wait longer because the librarians need special permission to access those manuscripts.  Oh for a plane ticket to England and white gloves!  (Side note: I am still shocked that there are things that aren’t on the Internet.  I will tell you, there are things that aren’t on the Internet, including digital images of all of Elizabeth’s original letters.)

And then something funny happened as I researched.  I developed an opinion of my own.  Read one biography and you will presumably accept that biographer’s take on the subject.  Read a second, and you will notice the contradictions but feel somewhat flummoxed by it all.  By the time I was transcribing and translating 16th century primary sources and zooming in on JPEGs of manuscript photographs, I started to hear a new voice among all the clamor of biographers I’d read: my own.

This was a new experience for me, as far as researching a historical figure.

Through all this reading and research, I was outlining my story.  I put Elizabeth’s life up to her coronation into an outline.  After I did that, though, I realized that I was particularly drawn to her life from age 13 to 15, namely the Thomas Seymour incident.  Most people have never heard of this, and even most historians, unless this era is a focus, have not delved into these events.

When I realized this was becoming a focus, I got another biography, The Young Elizabeth by Alison Plowden which focuses in on Elizabeth’s younger years.  This was helpful as I really worked hard to make sure that I was right on all of my details.

As I was outlining these years of Elizabeth’s life, it just so happened that a teenage girl from my state made the national news when she was abducted by her 50-something high school teacher and a nationwide manhunt ensued.  I had an eerie feeling when I recognized the similarities between what was happening on the news and what Elizabeth went through at that age herself.

This Spring I had lots of conversations with students and colleagues about this project.  When I summarized the Katherine Parr/Thomas Seymour events when she was 14, it seemed to strike a chord.  Maybe I was on to something.

I returned to my outline and zoomed in on those two years, stripping everything else away.  And then I started waking up in the night with a sentence or two in my head that I’d quickly type into my outline.  I would have ideas at red lights that I would dictate into my phone.  I started to feel like a racehorse in the gate at the Derby, the ones who start getting restless before the gun goes off.  (Those are always the horses I cheer for.)

And when the school year ended, the gates opened and I started writing.

But what, exactly, was I writing?  If I said “historical fiction” people immediately mentioned Philippa Gregory.  No disrespect to Ms. Gregory (I love her books), but that didn’t feel like what I was trying to do.  I also couldn’t really say “Oh, I’m writing Hamilton, except not a hip hop musical,” because that’s like saying you think you’re the next Hemingway.  It makes you sound a big like a yahoo.

It came to my attention that a book was recently sold that was billed as a biographical novel. It was about a famous woman, but it focused on her teenage years.  I’ve done some more research and I’ve seen some other projects also categorized as biographical novels, and that feels like a good fit.

I could really get into a great discussion about the shifting line between non-fiction and fiction is.  Because here’s what I’ve learned this year: there isn’t one agreed upon Truth.  There’s discrepancy and different interpretations among the biographers.  So, isn’t there an element of choice and fiction in each of their biographies?

My other priority is my audience.  I’m writing for teenagers, and I know that from my experience as a teenager, and now teaching them every day, they don’t really love biographies as a genre.  There’s the occasional student who enjoys them, but she tends to be the exception.  But they also love Hamilton, because Hamilton made a founding father feel real, current, and relatable.  So, I’m not Lin-Manuel Miranda, but I’m trying to make Elizabeth I feel like that for teenagers.

So, I’m writing a multi-genre, modern vernacular biographical novel with primary sources woven throughout.  I am approaching this project the way I approach my teaching.  Next year I’m going to teach a series of units on Elizabeth I in my World Literature and AP Language and Composition classes.  The kinds of tasks I might assign are the kinds of things I’ve written in my book: make a playlist for a historical figure, write a short play that dramatizes an event described in a letter, write a scene where you imagine a scenario that answers a question we have no answer for in primary sources, transcribe a historical document and then translate it into today’s vernacular.  If it helps, I’d say both Hamilton and McSweeney’s are big influences.  I have lists and satirical FAQs.  Rather than a rap battle like Hamilton and Jefferson have, I’ve written a boxing match between Elizabeth and Sir Robert Tyrwhit.

I am so excited to bring this book into the world.  Stay tuned!

Writing

Beginning again

I’ve spent the past two months querying Improbable Girl.  It’s a pretty consuming task, but I’ve reached what may be a soft stopping point.  I’m waiting.  And everyone says as soon as you send out one, you should start the next one.

And it makes sense.  The sudden flurry of submissions and research and query revisions is over and I miss the daily activity.  I’m maybe not so good at calm and bored.

It hit me that it’s been 4 years since I wrote a first draft from page one and feeling uncertain and nervous.  I’m really confident about my editing and querying abilities since I’ve been doing that for a few months.  (Remind me of this in a year or so when I haven’t queried in a while, and I feel nervous it again.)  I’m trying to recognize the natural ebb and flow that comes with the writing process.  But right now, I’m intimidated by the task, just like I was the first time.  First dates always give you flutters.

So, here we go with book #2.  Or perhaps, book #2 and #3.  I’ve got two ideas I’m feeling really pumped about.  I’ve got both cooking and we’ll see what happens.  I might bounce from one to the other, but I might really catch the wind in my sails with one and let the other idea rest.  As I said in my Process Insecurity post, I’m trying to control less and let myself find my way more.  I’ll keep you posted!

 

 

Writing

SCBWI Midsouth 2016 Conference

Last year, I told a colleague I was working on a picture book manuscript.  She’s a writer (former journalist, communications director at my current job) and she suggested I join SCBWI (The Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators).  I joined and I signed up for the conference last fall.  I entered my manuscript in the picture book contest, but I was too scared to sign up for a face-to-face critique.

My first conference was amazing.  The learning curve was steep because I knew very little about writing picture books, the market, and querying.  I didn’t win anything in the manuscript contest, but I met my current critique partner who invited me into her writing group.

When I registered for this year’s conference, I entered a new manuscript in the picture book contest and I signed up for a critique.

It was nice to meet up with members of my writing group, and meet some new friends.  I went to amazing sessions–even better than last year!

Then, on Saturday, they announced the contest winners and I got Honorable Mention!

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I told my friends at the conference that I was using this conference to decide if I needed to just bury this picture book manuscript and move on, or if there was some life left in it.  I’d spent last fall submitting it, and I got some complimentary rejections, but it didn’t go any further than that.

I was so happy to get that recognition in the contest.  I was starting to feel a little bummed about writing picture books.  I love writing them, but maybe it isn’t for me.  The market is competitive, and perhaps I needed to spend my energy elsewhere.  This re-lit the fire!

On Sunday morning of the conference, I had my face-to-face critique of the same manuscript with an editor.  I was so nervous.  I’d had critique partners and writing groups, but never any industry feedback like this.

It was amazing.  Not because she told me the book was fabulous and flawless and she was going to publish it tomorrow (that’s what we all secretly daydream about), but that it wasn’t perfect, but had some elements that were strong.  She had criticism that I thought was spot on, and some ideas for how to improve the manuscript.  What most encouraged me was that she said I was good at humor, and I should keep going with being funny.  It’s every kid-sister extrovert’s dream to be told that.  She also liked a 4th wall breaking moment in the manuscript and told me to do it more throughout the story.

The editor also told me that she didn’t love my premise.  That may sound like it was a blow, but honestly, it was somewhat liberating.  When I allowed myself to consider changing the premise, I saw how I could fix the other problems that she pointed out.  It was exciting to consider the possibilities of keeping the character and dropping the premise.  At the end, the editor said she was so glad I was willing to consider a change like that.  It reminded me that flexibility is so key and not always common.  Being gracious and flexible are some excellent qualities in both writers and students.  I love it when I make a big suggestion like that to a student and she takes it in stride.  It’s only right that I model that behavior.

One of my query rejections for that manuscript said that I had “more to discover.”  I’ve spent a year wondering what that meant–until now!  Between my critique, and a workshop on character development with the same editor, I understood.  The cow was flat and undeveloped.

[Side note: Until you try to write a picture book, you’ll think it’s nuts that you spend as much time developing those characters as you might spend on a novel.  But really, you can and you should.  You only have 500 words, so you better know that character deep down and be ready to make them come alive in as few words as possible.  You don’t have 10,000 words to “find” the character.  They need to exist in every word on every page.  Mind blown, right?]

I went home after the conference bursting with ideas.  In fact, I woke up in the middle of the night Sunday morning with a non-fiction picture book idea that incorporated some humor.  Sunday afternoon after the conference, while my youngest napped, I worked on a rewrite of The Cow Steals the Show and a first draft of my new idea.

Here’s what I think I’m learning about myself.  I’ve got humor, I’ve got plot and premise.  My characters have voice, but it’s not enough.  I’m not sure yet if this applies to my novel, but I think it’s true for my picture books.

Teaching, Writing

Process insecurity

Today I was giving feedback to students on a creative writing assignment.  For the assignment, they had to find a photo depicting human migration in some way.  Most chose an image of Syrian refugees, or immigrants at the US/Mexico border.  Some chose more historical photos of Japanese mail-order brides, or a family member who was a holocaust survival and immigrant.  They could then write in their choice of genre about the photo, story, poem, stream of consciousness, etc.

I asked for a paragraph of reflection at the end of the assignment.  One student commented on how hard it was to get started because she got hung up on finding the perfect structure and the perfect idea.  Once she started going, though, she discovered some things she hadn’t even realized were there and ultimately she felt great about the final product.

I needed to read that.  I’m having some process insecurity of my own.

Let me explain.  I wrote my novel Improbable Girl with an idea for an opening scene and that was it.  I had no outline, no ideas for the ending.  I had some characters in mind, but they weren’t fully developed.  I just wrote.  And I jumped around in the plot and wrote whatever caught my fancy that day.

When I finished, I started talking to other writers and reading about writing.  I read about all kinds of plotters and planners and outliners.  And I’ll admit, I started to feel a bit insecure.  I’m sure it was imagined, but I got the sense that writers who planned first looked at my seat-of-my-pants process (also called “pantsing”) as the inferior method of writing.

And when I sat down to edit my novel, it was a hot mess plot-wise and character-wise.  I had to make some massive changes.  I started to think that maybe some time spent outlining before writing might help me to save time on the revisions.

As I approach my next project, I’ve been doing some planning.  I’ve been Snowflaking and outlining.  The first few steps seem to work for me and then I get this feeling of dread and despair.  I can’t figure out how it should end or what the next crisis will be and suddenly I feel hopeless.  The whole idea is garbage and it’s not going to lead anywhere.

Today, I’m reminding myself of who I am.  I am a leap-and-the-net-will-appear person.  I’m a rush-in-and-find-joy-in-problem-solving person.  I think my logical brain is not quite as smart as the part of my brain that runs loose when I’m just writing my way out of things.  (“I wrote my way out…“)

I will say there is one pre-writing or extra-writing activity I find value in: character interviews.  I’ve starting doing more and more Q and A type freewrites.  I’m not controlling where it goes, I’m just asking and probing.  I did one with Jane and Daniel in the Improbable Girl editing process where I just asked them, “What do you think you’re doing?”  What came out of that was really crucial.  It helped me clarify what was happening with each of them and where they needed to go as characters through the novel.

So enough planning.  For now.  Maybe a premise is enough.  Maybe a character with a little wounded spot in her heart is enough.  And yes, I’m going to have more work on the other end to figure out how to make it work.  I’m alright with that.  I’ve been there before and I know I can make it through.

Also, I read this article by Chuck Wendig (swearing makes me so happy) and I needed it.  I joked on Twitter that I was going to make it a daily meditation.  I might not be kidding.  I might read it every day.  Even though I’ve done this once–finished a book, that is–I’m feeling that same old insecurity in my abilities.  Enough.  No more.

To write!

Teaching, Writing

Wall o’ Rejection

I teach at an independent all-girls school that attracts the most hard working young women in the area–38 different zip codes as a matter of fact.  They are driven, ambitious, and they’ve often been known as the best students in the schools they came from.  They excel in academic areas, they make amazing art and music, they play sports with fiery dedication and they have big dreams for themselves.  Then they come to our classes and we ask even more of them.  We challenge them, we ask them to stretch themselves, we give them constructive criticism.  Because they are girls, and because they are high achieving, many are prone to perfectionism.  The challenges we present them sometimes overwhelm them and some start shying away from creative risk.

Our school has a really amazing confidence committee that researches and develops initiatives on campus to increase student confidence.  They’ve taught the faculty that one of the qualities that can limit confidence is a fear of failure.  Our students want to please us, their parents, while also meeting their own aspirations.  It can be daunting and one stumble can feel like the end of the world.  The pressure on students has been growing steadily and much of that pressure results in them avoiding failure at all cost.

So, when I started querying my novel this summer, I knew I was going to share my experiences.  Querying a picture book last year, and now a novel, has been such a learning experience.  It’s taught me so much resilience and I’ve learned to embrace failure.  I have always been willing to take risks, but even this was scary at first.  But I survived.  And I didn’t quit.  I want to show students that successful adults they respect experience failure.  We don’t succeed in spite of failure, it’s because of it.

I also want to even the score a bit.  Students have 6 or 7 classes each year and every day they get grades and criticism handed down to them.  Their faults and weaknesses get pointed out, often in red pen, on an hourly basis.  Adults have it so much easier.  So, to soften the blow of grades, I have decided to make a wall of rejection.  I’ve printed out my rejection letters (with names removed, of course!) and I’ve taped them up on the wall.  All around the rejections, I’ve put quotes celebrating rejection and failure and inspiring perseverance.  I’ve also invited seniors in to see my rejections as they wait for and receive their college decision letters.

I took some pictures on Friday to share.

Here’s to glorious failure!

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Teaching

Letter of introduction 2016

This year marks my tenth year of writing a letter of introduction to my students at the start of the year.  Here is what I wrote this year.  Enjoy! (To read last year’s letter, click here.)

August 17, 2016

Dear Students,

Welcome to a new school year!  My name is Mrs. Griswold and I will be your English teacher.  Every year, I write my students a letter of introduction so that you can get to know me, and then I ask you to write a letter back to me so that I can learn a little bit about you.

It’s a contemplative and reflective experience to sit down and check in and see how I’ve evolved from the year before.  For you, each new school year brings new teachers and classes and sometimes a new school.  You’re off on a new journey, and honestly, every year I also feel as though I too am starting a new epic adventure.  I’d like to believe that with bravery and clear eyes, life continually offers exciting new quests, even beyond high school and college.

To start off, this summer I got two beehives in my back yard.  I’ve never kept bees before, but I took a class and I read lots of books and I dove in.  It was fun-hard-interesting.  I lost both of my original queen bees (one died, one swarmed) and my two bee colonies faced a crisis and could have died.  But, with a little patience and a lot of Googling, my colonies rebounded and even produced 8 quarts of honey!

This summer was also the end of one journey and the start of another because I finished writing a novel.  Almost 4 years ago, I decided to join a few students and participate in National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo).  In November of 2012, I wrote 50,000 words of a novel, and over the next three and a half years, I worked on finishing and editing it.  This summer I worked every day for the entire month of June to finish.  I wrote a 4th, 5th and 6th draft, and in the first week of July, I felt that I had arrived at a stopping point.  I was ready for the next stage.

What is that next stage?  I started submitting my novel to agents.  (Agents then take books to publishers to get the book published.)  I’ve emailed query letters and the first 10 pages of my novel to 104 agents.  So far, 25 agents have rejected me and 4 have liked what I sent enough to request more pages or the full manuscript.  It’s not a bad ratio, but I’ll tell you that every rejection is so hard to receive and every request for more makes me feel like I won the lottery.  If you see me in the hallway busting a move, I probably got some good feedback on what I wrote.  Sometimes the rejections are even bittersweet: one agent said that I was a good writer, my characters felt real, and the dialogue was authentic, but my book just wasn’t right for her.  And some rejections just sting, like the agent who said my sample pages weren’t as engaging as she had hoped.  Ouch.

Another big adventure is also beginning, because I am going to have a baby boy in December!  You may not know this but Mr. Griswold, who teaches math here, is my husband and this will be our third baby.  Our oldest, Calvin, is four and a half, and Matilda is two.  Mr. Griswold and I are very excited and a little nervous about going from man-on-man to zone defense (get it?).  While I’m on maternity leave in third quarter, other amazing English teachers from the department will be coming to teach your class.  You will get a chance to be inspired by the other faculty at Harpeth Hall, and I’ll be back after Spring Break.

I guess adventure is part of who I am.  As a kid, I lived all over the world for my dad’s job.  I have lived in Cincinnati, Mexico City, Caracas, Cleveland, London, and New York City before coming to Nashville.  I speak fluent Spanish and conversational Portuguese.  I got my bachelor’s degree from Case Western Reserve University and my master’s degree from NYU.  Fun fact, I was a theater and Spanish major in college, and my master’s is in Educational Theater.

I love that my life and my house are filled with the fruits of past adventures.  We live in East Nashville where we have a dog, 6 chickens and the bees.  Past years’ letters of introduction were about getting a dog and building our chicken coop.  We also have a big garden where we grow flowers and vegetables.

The beauty of constant adventures is that life is always a work in progress.  I’ve never really “arrived” and I find that my search for new experiences never ends.  Journeys also imply detours and pitfalls and scary forests.  A quest is often filled with near misses and brushes with death.  And while I am luckily not facing those kinds of obstacles, I love embracing the messiness of life on a road of discovery.  As you know from your favorite stories and novels, it’s the struggles along the way that make for the most interesting and exciting plots.  When I think about building a chicken coop or writing a novel, I could tell you about the frustration, the banged fingers, the feelings of helplessness or despair.  I could tell you about the time I realized I needed the change the verb tense and speaker of the entire novel.  Those aren’t blemishes, but rather details that enrich the value of the journey.

And I’m excited that we will start the next one together.  It can be scary to begin and take the leap, but I can say with certainty that you won’t regret it.  Along the way, you’ll probably have very high and very low moments.  You’ll question why you ever started to begin with.  You’ll think you aren’t ready or can’t handle it. You’ll wonder what made you think this was a good idea.  You’ll feel great pride in your accomplishments.  You’ll laugh hysterically and cry in frustration.  You’ll make true friends.  You’ll discover that you’re stronger than you think.  At the end, on a May day that feels a million light years away from here, you’ll look up and realize how far you’ve come without noticing.  And you won’t regret a single minute.

Sincerely,

Mrs. Griswold

Teaching, Writing

What I’m Reading: Girl in Translation

After A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, I turned to my attention to the book I paired with it, Jean Kwok’s Girl in Translation.  Set roughly 100 years apart, these stories comprise an interesting conversation.  Both have a strong female protagonist in Brooklyn.  One an immigrant, one the daughter of immigrants.  Both struggle with poverty and a precocious desire to learn and excel.

I first heard about Girl in Translation from a booktalk in our school library.  As often happens, I also check out a book or two after the book talks.  I immediately adored this book.  The protagonist Kimberly is relatable, honest and moving, just like Francie.  I also enjoyed how the author found a creative way to show us that Kimberly doesn’t always understand everything people say to her in English.  Peppered into sentences are phonetic spellings of words that Kimberly doesn’t understand.  It’s a brilliant way to put us in her shoes with teachers and classmates speaking quickly and not all of it landing.

I also love the emotional journey that we go on with Kimberly.  We cheer for her, we cry for her, we chew our nails for her.  And the flood of empathy that I feel is real.  Her character serves as both a window and a mirror for me.  First, this book give me a window into her Chinese culture and upbringing.  But, like a mirror, this book allows me to see American culture through her eyes.  We take so much of our own realities for granted that we forget all of our culture is a social construct.

I also feel very strongly that teachers need to read this book.  There is so much that we can say or do that could hurt students without us realizing.  Kimberly has a few terrible teachers and lots of amazing ones.  It was a good reminder that I want to be on the right team.  It also illuminated for me the privileges that teachers can take for granted–access to art supplies, NY Times subscriptions at home, a parent who can take time off work to come to school.

And I hope that my students also have a powerful experience with this novel.  Kimberly attends a private school from 7th grade through graduation and there is so much that her peers don’t know about her, and my hope is that it will increase my own independent school students’ awareness of both their privilege and the diversity around them.  It’s easy to get wrapped up in our own existence (especially if you’re a teenager), but there is so much variation in our communities, and we need to be open and empathetic to the experiences of others.  As Kimberly is struggling with a rat and roach infested apartment with no heat, her peers are complaining about curfews and the banality of suburban complacency.

There is also some interesting social justice commentary in this novel.  And, honestly, legal justice!  The book raises important questions about the ways in which immigrants in our country are treated.  Kimberly must act as a grown up as soon as she sets foot in the country as a 6th grader.  Her youth and also her lack of voice really cuts the reader deep.  Her vulnerability and strength are both breath-taking, and this is an important window into the immigrant experience.  And, of course, the fact that she and many other children are working in a sweatshop to survive made me so angry.  It reminds me how far we’ve come from 1912, but also how many things have not changed.

As the book approaches the climax, every inch of ground that Kimberly has gained hangs in the balance.  It’s the kind of book I start yelling at, pulling my knees close to my chest as I plunge into the next page.  She’s come so far, I can’t handle the thought that she won’t make it.

I assigned Girl in Translation and A Tree Grows in Brooklyn as summer reading for my honors 10th grade World Literature class.  Before we dive into the rest of the world, let’s consider our relationship to the rest of the world.  We are a part of the world and it’s good to discuss and question what that our relationship is.

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