Meg Griswold

What I’m (Summer) Reading: A Tree Grows in Brooklyn

As the school year approaches again, I am turning my summer energy away from writing and personal projects to the summer reading I assigned my students. It’s been a year since I visited these books, and I need to re-read.

In some ways, re-reading for work like this can be maddening when I see the list of books I want to read for the first time. Life is short and the list is long. But every time I dive back into a book I’ve read once (or six times) I find that I can see so much more. I feel like Neo seeing The Matrix–I can see word choice and sentence structure. I can see interesting plot choices. I can see what the author is doing with the narrator or the voice. What I’ve come to learn is that re-reading is a treasure trove for the writer. Freed from trying to hold on to characters and plot, I can turn my attention to craft and think on a higher level about the writing and the themes.

I started with A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, the first of two books I assigned to my honors 10th grade students. I’d been looking for a way to teach this book since I was in grad school. This year will be my third year teaching the honors 10th grade English curriculum that I designed, and it’s also the third iteration of summer reading for that class. The first year I was too controversial and caused a stir. The second year I went safer but the students didn’t feel the love. Then, in the middle of last year, two of my students told me they were working their way through a list of classic novels and had just read A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. They gushed. They adored it.

Lightning struck me! I’d been thinking about that book for a decade, and also I’d been trying to find a way to use Jean Kwok’s lovely 2010 novel Girl in Translation. Hadn’t Girl in Translation been compared to A Tree Grows in Brooklyn? Wouldn’t that be an amazing pairing? 100 years apart, one girl Chinese, one girl Austrian-Irish, and yet so much in common in their stories.

And so, onto the summer reading assignment they went. I remembered back to all the amazing classes I took at NYU in the English Education department where I designed book pairings and projects that would ask students to draw a thread of connection between an old novel and a new. This is why I love my school: I can bring to life the passionate imaginings of the NYU grad student I once was. I’m glad to see her light wasn’t ground out along the way.

So I spent last week curled up with the bittersweet prose of Ms. Betty Smith. (I feel she must always be addressed with that formality. She’s like an old Hollywood movie star to me.)

As I started the book again, I was reminded of how different it is than the modern novel that drops you in the soup of disaster on page one. In the introduction by Anna Quindlen, she calls it a novel in which nothing happens. Which is true, but also it isn’t. Life happens. True, there is no central conflict, no overarching character objective, except maybe survival and a moment’s pleasure. But that comes to be an all-consuming goal to the reader, and you can’t stop reading lest Francie languish in heartache or hunger too long.

Ms. Smith is a master of character development. There are a lot of characters flitting in and out of the tenement neighborhood and beyond, and they all start to feel like your own wacky relatives. No one is totally perfect or good, but no one is completely wicked and you realize so much truth about humanity as you read. You condemn and forgive on the same page.

I was surprised to see the book is narrated in third person. You spend so much time inside Francie’s head, that you forget that it isn’t first person. We take occasional dips into a few other characters’ minds, but mostly, we’re with Francie. And it’s a lovely place to be. Her innocence, her toughness, all of her is so endearing. You see what she fails to see, and you watch her realize things she as matures.

This book is the quintessential bildungsroman (thanks Word of the Day for this one, but don’t ask me to say it out loud, I have to repeat it over an over and it never quite feels at home in my mouth). Francie starts the book at 11, then we flash back to her parents’ childhoods and move all the way back to Francie at 11 and finish the book when she is 16 or 17 and headed off to college. My whole life is a bildungsroman–I teach 14-16 year-olds 10 months of the year–but I still like reading them. They don’t lose their charm for me.

Perhaps all coming-of-age stories are a series of lucky near-misses and blood-sweat-and-tears survival, but A Tree Grows in Brooklyn feels especially so. I find myself with my heart in my throat as I read. I just want to leap into the book and yell at the adults and give her something to eat. But then I forgive those adults (except maybe Johnny) and I just want to throw a coat on Francie’s shoulders. Except her spirit and gumption kick in and I’m so proud of her when I realize she doesn’t need saving. She’s doing it herself.

This book also makes me realize the importance of ignorance in childhood. It’s a great insulator. Francie’s lack of awareness keeps her from despair. And when awareness blooms, and despair threatens her, she fights back.

And this book is so much about women. From illiterate Mary Rommelly and her abusive husband to Katie and her drunk (but loving) husband, to Francie. What an important story of the generations upon generations of women who have not earned spots in our history books, but who nonetheless have kept our species alive. I know we like to talk about the Joan of Arcs and the Marie Curies, who are undoubtedly important, but the women who endured hunger, poverty, abuse, violence and yet somehow kept themselves and their children alive are the true heroes. They didn’t quit and they didn’t give up. They accepted the hand that life had dealt them and eked out an existence. When I look at Katie Nolan’s survival and achievements, they match those of the great women who have earned posters and glossy textbook pages.

And now, I have to steel my heart and hope that the 30 or so student who read it for my class liked it. You don’t know the pain in a teacher’s heart when a student, a stranger still, breezes in on day 1 and casually torpedoes me with, “Ugh, that book? So boring. I could barely finish it. I mean, what’s even the point?” It takes all my inner Katie Nolan not lose my cool. Plug your ears in the grave, Ms. Smith. Forgive their youth, and let me see if I can work my magic.

Summer reading is always an autopsy, as my colleague says. We didn’t read it together, bit by bit, with discussions and collaboration along the way. Their opinions were formed in a vacuum and their opinions get set in concrete before they walk in the room. If a book confuses them, they come to hate it for making them feel stupid. And since they didn’t get to meet up with their peers and me around the Harkness table to ask their questions and shine a new light on the text, the negative opinion sticks. I like to fantasize about them going to college some day, and there’s a fellow student clutching the book to their chest, delivering an impassioned monologue on its value and beauty. My former student bites her tongue and wonders, Maybe Ms. Griswold was on to something. Let me give it another look.

Inevitably, someone won’t like the book. That’s how books are. And probably, given the high energy and quick plotting of contemporary novels, this book feels plodding and atmospheric by comparison. Perhaps Girl in Translation will illuminate A Tree Grows in Brooklyn for them. Perhaps a fear of disappointing me will make them soften their negative opinions, if they have them. Perhaps by requiring them to read it, I’ve already robbed them of the joy of reading it through their own discovery. The most I can hope for is that our discussions and our research into poverty, current immigration and immigrant rights, will light a little flame in them. And, at the end of the day, it’s never a bad thing to spend some hours with Ms. Betty Smith.

Teaching

What I’m reading: Make It Stick

Good afternoon! As the summer draws to its end, I am working on my summer reading. First up is my faculty read Make It Stick: The Science of Successful Learning by Peter C. Brown, Henry L. Roediger III, and Mark A. McDaniel.

My husband, David, is a high school math teacher and read the book a year ago. He was obsessed. He’d get immersed and then dive into a passionate treatise while changing diapers on why he loved the book. He recommended it to our admin as a faculty read, and here we are.

I’m loving it. It’s in that middle ground between the dense articles you might read in a grad program, and super pop psych books. It gets the message across, tells some good stories, and practices what it preaches.

One big take away is that we think we know how we learn, but we really don’t. We have a lot of lore and intuition–not much more than superstition–and most of it doesn’t amount to lasting learning. It has some storytelling aspects, where an anecdote is told to illustrate a concept every few pages. It’s folksy, but as a fan of stories, I’ve enjoyed the real-life illustrations. (The one about the process for marines who learn to jump out of planes and not break their ankles was fascinating!)

For those who, like me, got their teacher education in the last decade or so (thanks NYU!), this jives with constructive learning, problem/project based learning, student-centered classrooms, etc. If you are a chalk-and-talk or drill-and-kill person, you might not enjoy this. The focus is on how learning is encoded, retrieved and made permanent. Teaching is discussed, insofar as the most effective ways for students to NOT forget what you teach them. Which, you know, is the point.

I find myself feeling lucky that I teach English. One major message is that learning needs to be varied, spaced and interleaved (other stuff inserted in, so it’s not just one topic/skill all the time). My class is naturally that way: first a poem, then a novel, then a few short stories. We don’t just drill metaphors for 2 weeks, then move on to similes. We spiral back over and over to the same concepts in different settings in different genres. I already have a lot going for me just through the natural structure of my class.

And, there isn’t much mindless drilling in the English classes at my school. The one exception might be in grammar. That’s where I’ve done a lot of reflecting as I read the book. I’ve noticed that students tend to forget one unit as soon as it’s over. But, the problem is, they need to use apostrophes correctly FOR EVER, not just for the next two weeks. So, my first step next year is to spiral back to the material throughout the whole year. An apostrophe question on every quiz. I’m also going to try to mix up my grammar practice and instruction, so it doesn’t fall into mindlessness (read the chapter, do 10 practice problems, repeat).

Another big take away I’ve enjoyed is the notion that harder learning is better learning. When something “feels easy” to learn, it doesn’t mean you are learning it as well as you think you are. The research Make it Stick cites shows that the harder you have to work to retrieve your learning, the deeper your learning is. For those of you brain enthusiasts, the more you are laying down those neural pathways in different ways, the stronger they are. If you access the learning a different way, you are strengthening it. If you have to connect it to other things, you strengthen the pathways. It may sound counter-intuitive, but when you read about the studies, it becomes clear.

All of this makes me excited for the year because I tell students and parents early on that I embrace a philosophy of “hard fun.” Seymour Papert coined the phrase, and I heard it at an NCTE conference in 2007 or 2008. It’s pretty straight forward and makes me think of building my chicken coop by myself with no plans. It was hard, but I was having so much fun. The idea is supported by the research that Make It Stick presents, which I now have to bolster my philosophy. If learning feels hard, then the student is on the right track–which will be a relief for my very ambitious, eager-to-succeed students. Too many of them view struggle as a sign of failure and poor ability. As the book agrees, we feel that “easy” learning must be good, but the truth is easy come, easy go.

In an interesting turn of events, I noticed a pretty active hashtag on Twitter for Make it Stick. I threw a few tweets up and pretty quickly had a lot of people, coincidentally all men, begin to debate these principles with me. In case it needs to be said, I didn’t write the book. If you would like to debate the merits of the sources and the research, please take it up with the authors. Or, better yet, you could publish your own research in a peer reviewed journal and then write your own book. I look forward to reading that. Until then, I’d appreciate you staying out of a friendly conversation among teachers who are enjoying the book and want to stay positive about using its concepts in the classroom.

Writing

What I’m learning from sharing my writing with others

Letting other people read what you’ve written is scary. Like public nudity scary. Perhaps like public nudity, the fear wears off after repeated experiences.

My first sharing experiences were with two writing groups, one that is no more and one that’s current. They gave great feedback, but it was often on 5-10 pages and not the whole work. This summer, though, my husband finally read the book, and he was the first person to read the whole thing in its entirety. You often read about writers sharing every stage with their spouse, like a built in critique partner. That’s not been my experience, at least for the past few years. At first I wasn’t ready, then my husband resisted. What if, he worried, I don’t really like it? It could be that it just wasn’t for him, but he knew that would still hurt me. And if my husband is one thing, he’s honest. Which means that if he tells you that you look good in sweatpants, gosh darnit you look awesome in sweatpants.

But since I was rounding the bases and getting ready to query, he took it with him on a work trip and read it.

He liked it! I’ve never been so relieved. In fact, he wrote this on one of the pages and I jumped out of my chair for a victory dance.

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After that, I sent it to a high school friend who lives in Texas. Then a college friend in DC. Then a current work friend read it. Then my mother-in-law read it. Then I made a Twitter friend who offered to give my query letter a read. She wrote back with feedback and ideas for improvement.

Here’s what I’ve learned, boiled down as best I can:

Your mother (or mother-in-law) has to by law and biology say nice things. Still, it’s nice to hear and I’ll take what I can get.
Apparently some readers may really dislike something about your book that others love, or at least didn’t mind. It’s bewildering and can make you question your existence.
However, if the reader was definitely on to something, you’ll get a pang in your stomach and you’ll know that you also had that thought. They might point out an odd word choice on the opening page, and you realize right away you also questioned the choice. This is helping me to trust my gut instincts when editing.
Sometimes the reaction makes you realize you need to clarify something. In my Twitter friend’s response to my query, it suddenly became clear that I was not making a plot point clear. I rewrote and hopefully the confusion will be gone.
Sometimes the feedback or suggestions make you realize what you will not compromise on, and what, for you, is essential to your book. My first writing group really liked one of my POV narrators and didn’t love the other. Consider just narrating the book from one POV? That was definitely a no for me. But, it made me realize that to keep the other POV, it needed some work. (Which it got in draft 3.)
Every piece of feedback I read that has no emotion, my brain adds hatred and disgust to. I’m a generally confident and positive person, but it’s so hard! I keep wondering, Does that mean you hate it? As Erykah Badu says, “Keep in mind I’m a artist, and I’m sensitive about my s***.”

Writing the book was hard. Editing was harder. Sharing it with the world has to be the hardest.

My query count is up to 56 since 7/11/16. I’m teaching a week-long day camp next week, so I’ll probably slow down considerably. I’ve had one request for a partial (first 50 pages) and that was from a query letter alone. I’m taking that as an encouraging sign.

Teaching, Travel, Writing

New Site!

As I begin to query for Improbable Girl, I decided it was time to make an author site. I feel like I have no idea what I’m doing, which is mostly true. My built in IT department, also known as my husband, is busy writing math textbooks and has pushed me out of the nest to muddle through myself.

I just imported my old Writer, Reader, Teacher, Spy blog posts and a few of them have some issues with pictures. I’ll try to get those fixed over the coming weeks.

Thanks for stopping by. These blog posts will showcase the many hats I wear, so it will be a mixed bag. I hope you enjoy!

Teaching

Bringing Literature to Life with a Maker Space

Today I am presenting the session “Bringing Literature to Life with a Maker Space” at the TAIS Tech conference. Caitlin McLemore, our educational technology specialist at Harpeth Hall is my co-presenter.

Here is the movie I made of the project with WeVideo.

Here are is our presentation:

Teaching, Writing

What I’m reading right now

I sent out a query to an agency this week that was done through a form on a website rather than through email. (Side note: This seems to be a growing trend for agencies, and I bet it helps them to categorize, sort and log their queries. I predict it will be more common for agencies to go this route.) As part of the submission form, I was asked to name the most recent book I read.

I think that’s a great question and I thought it would be worthwhile to share my answer.

If I was being totally honest, the most recent book I read was Biscuit Loves the Library by Alyssa Satin Capucilli, which is one of the books my four-year-old checked out of the library last weekend. But, I am not sure that is what the question was really asking. What I wrote was Modern Romance by Aziz Ansari with Eric Klinenberg.

There is a unique pleasure to reading a book after my toddlers have gone to sleep. In this photo, I’m also clearly reading rather than folding those baskets of laundry that are on the right edge of the frame. I’ve got my priorities straight.

But sometimes it is too good to wait for after their bedtimes, so I read during bathtime!

I absolutely loved it. Non-fiction has been appealing to me lately, but I love Aziz’s voice and humor. Reading it was also a trip down memory lane to my single days in New York. I did online dating and speed dating, and I remember well what that was like. Interesting and really funny, this one had me giggling in the evenings. In addition, I’ve been gravitating towards non-fiction to avoid losing my own voice in my writing. Like picking up an accent, sometimes I find that whatever fiction I’m reading tends to influence my own writing. It’s tricky to balance inspiration with my own individuality.

The other books I am currently knee-deep in are these two:

Children’s Writer’s & Illustrator’s Market 2016, a gift from my mother-in-law for Christmas.

I’ve been reading through all of the agent, publisher, and magazine listings. There are also very interesting articles and interviews. A lot of this is reiterating what I learned at the Mid-South SCBWI conference, but it’s nice to have this reference text.

And Self-Editing for Fiction Writers. (Again, notice the jammies. I’m in the After-The-Toddlers-Are-Asleep Writing and Reading Club.)

I read Self-Editing for Fiction Writers once through, and now I am re-reading it and taking notes and making one giant checklist. Each of the 12 chapters ends with a self-editing checklist. I am putting that all on one document and adding my notes and highlights from each chapter. It’s really a great book, with examples, clear explanations, exercises and checklists. I read it in December, between finishing the third draft of my novel and starting the fourth. My hope is to start using the checklists and my notes to tackle my fourth draft next week.

Writing

Try again, fail again, fail better.

Samuel Beckett wrote in his short story Worstward Ho, “Try again. Fail again. Fail better.” I find myself thinking about that a lot. Right now, I feel like I am failing slightly better.

I wrote a second picture book manuscript and sent it to twelve agents. I got two rejections last week. These are notable for two reasons: first, they came within a week of submission, which is a fantastic turnaround time; second, they both involved some kind of personal response or feedback.

I explain it this way. The least desirable response is silence. It’s inevitable when agents have so much to read and respond to. I get it. Still, it’s like waiting for someone to notice you in high school.

The next level up is a form letter email rejection. It is usually very kind and thanks you for your hard work and the chance to review it. At least I know that someone did a cursory review of my manuscript and I can stop hoping.

One step above that is a rejection that contains some kind of personalized feedback. My first response said this, “Thanks so much for giving me a shot at your picture book. I’m sorry to say that I wasn’t connecting wholeheartedly with your writing, despite its many charms, so I ought to step aside, but I truly appreciate the look, and I wish you the best of luck!” It has charms! But, it wasn’t encouraging connection for that agent. Still, it felt good to read that.

My next rejection had more specific feedback. Here is a snippet:

I’ve had a chance to review and consider your work and can see how much you’ve invested in this. It’s very funny and I love the idea of turning this old rhyme on its head. But I think it’s missing something — I think maybe a narrator, or something to break up the dialogue, and give us more than a scene would be good. I think you can have even more fun with the way you’re playing with things. Unfortunately, given these concerns, I don’t think I’m the right agent for this particular project, so I must pass. But I send this with gratitude and all good wishes for the future.

A quick explanation: my book is written entirely in dialogue. Think Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus or I Want My Hat Back. The bus driver talks straight to us, as does the pigeon. And the bear looking for his hat either asks about his hat, questions others about his hat, or tells himself how much he loves his hat. There are no dialogue tags, “the pigeon said” or “said the bear.” I appreciate the feedback so much, but now I am wondering how to proceed. I think it might be an interesting exercise to try and rewrite the book with a more traditional narration structure. This presents a couple of problems. First, I don’t know how I’d keep it around 500 words, which seems to be the recommendation now. Secondly, my husband was quick to point out that this is just one agent and I shouldn’t rush to throw the baby out with the bath water.

For the sake of exercise, I will play around with the narrator. I will also try to play with things a bit more, although I don’t know yet what potential she might be referring to. Hmm. Things to consider.

Now I wait for the remaining 10 agents, or rather, I wait for 12 weeks and then I assume any silence is a no. Maybe I’ll get a bite! For now, on to my novel, and to let a new picture book idea simmer.

Writing

New picture book

A few weeks ago, on a Monday at the breakfast table, my three-year-old, Calvin, requested the “Hey, diddle, diddle” nursery rhyme. I obliged, but I was distracted and accidentally skipped over the cow who jumped over the moon. Calvin immediately protested, and an idea popped into my head. What if the cow had some opinions about how the rhyme was written?

Immediately I thought about Bottom in Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Bottom, despite being the lead, thinks he should play all the parts. He takes it upon himself to coach his fellow actors i and demands a series of prologues be written. He’s quite an atrocious actor who thinks he is hot stuff.

Thus, an idea was born. My husband and I teach at the same school, so that morning while it was his turn to drive, I feverishly scribbled my first draft onto a pad of paper.

Then the strep throat hit, and I was completely incapacitated. I spent three feverish days on the couch or trying to teach and having to leave school early. The fever made me feel like I was having an out of body experience. On Friday morning, I got antibiotics and by the evening my brain function was returning. I took out my paper draft and typed it up.

I took it to my picture book critique group on Saturday morning. The feedback was strong, and I decided to move forward with it. I went home and revised my draft during nap time. I worked on my query letter for the next few days and then I sent it out to 10 agents.

This was only my second round of querying, but it felt smoother and less daunting than the first time. I am now less scared of the process. Wendelin Van Draanen, (who wrote The Running Dream, our all-school read) came and spoke at an assembly a few weeks ago. She said that every time she sent out a manuscript, it was like putting hope in the mail. I took what she said to heart, and thought of it as hope in the (e)mail.

I also felt happy that I was able to take another piece of advice: as soon as you send out one project, start on the next. After I wrote my first picture book manuscript, I didn’t really have any other ideas, or none that were feeling fully formed in my head. But, by staying open and paying attention, I was able to start the next project.

Now that I have send out my second picture book manuscript, I am going to turn my attention back to my women’s fiction novel. I think that maybe at the end of this draft, I’ll be ready to start querying. I’m looking forward to that. More than just querying, I’ve got an idea for a middle grade novel that I’d love to get started on. I’m looking forward to freeing myself up for another project!

Teaching, Writing

Thesis and outline workshop

Both my 10th grade classes and my 9th grade classes are working on thesis statements and outlines for their upcoming essays–on The Secret Life of Bees for 9th graders, and Life of Pi for 10th graders.

The first stage in the process is a Graffiti Wall. I have them tape their exploratory paragraphs and quotes onto a large sheet of paper. Silently, students rotate to the other papers and leave feedback.

Then, they work on writing a few thesis statement attempts for 10 minutes. They pick their favorite and write it on the white boards, without a name. They then pair up and rotate through the statements leaving feedback.

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The feedback is valuable, but giving feedback and evaluating the work of others is equally valuable. It reminds them there are many different topics and arguments and they aren’t chasing the one, perfect topic.

I also want to make writing less lonely and emphasize the power and potential of collaboration in the writing process. I am a member of a few writing groups, and they are essential to development and growth.

Writing

Querying picture book agents and rejection

This summer, I pulled out a draft of a children’s book I had written in 2006, while I was getting my master’s degree in Educational Theatre from NYU.

This summer, I worked on the children’s book when I needed a break from revising my novel. I sent the picture book manuscript to friends and colleagues for feedback. One suggested I look into the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators. I joined and signed up for the regional fall conference just outside of Nashville.

Once I joined SCBWI, I had access to a massive manual on publication, agents, and the market. There is an entire section on agents that represent children’s books and what they are looking for. I read through it in the semi darkness while rocking Matilda to sleep one night. I circled a bunch of agents I thought would be a good match. I spent a few days composing a query letter, and sent my manuscript to 6 agents.

As of mid-September I’ve received three rejections. My top choice agent, the one I really feel would be the best fit, has yet to respond, which means there is still a chance. (Although silence is usually a no.)

These are clearly form letters, but they are very kind.

I will say that I feel good about each of those rejections. It was confirmation that my work was received, and more importantly, that I am joining the ranks of Real Writers. Real Writers send out their work. Real Writers get rejected. It is a badge of honor and a sign that progress is happening. This feels very different to me than the years that manuscript sat as a file on my hard drive. This feels better, even if it is rejection.

After joining SCBWI, I have started to learn more about publishing picture books. You do not need an agent, and many smaller publishers will accept unsolicited manuscripts. The SCBWI manual also lists those, and I circled the ones that would be a good fit for my project. I opted to go the agent route more as an experiment. The larger publishers (Scholastic, Harper Collins, Random, etc.) do not accept unsolicited manuscripts. The agent route can get you access to more publishers, but then the agent collects a portion of any sales. Submitting directly to publishers can present its own challenges. How do you stand out among the other unsolicited manuscripts? Some writers argue that agents are unnecessary. Because I am also working on a novel, for which an agent is most definitely required, I thought I would take this opportunity to gain a new experience. If I hear silence or receive rejections from all six agents, I will submit directly to publishers who accept unsolicited manuscripts.

The SCBWI mid-south conference was last weekend, so please keep your eyes out for a post about the pile of things I learned and the changes I am making to my manuscript!