|
Another season of school visits finished . . .
As an author, I do a lot of school visits. I enjoy them all—the kids are great whether they are kindergarteners or eighth-graders. I thought you might be interested in a few of my favorite questions kids have asked me at school visits.
1. “Do you ever write because you’re angry?” (From an 8th-grader.) You bet! I believe anger is a powerful wellspring from which we can draw great inspiration and channel negative energy in a positive and constructive way.
2. “Are there ever times you give up on a story?” (From a 3rd-grader.) Sure . . . but if the kernel of an idea I love is there, I’ll come back to it and try using it in a different way.
3. “What would you be doing if you weren’t writing?” (From a 5th-grader.) Wow! I never thought about that one, since I’ve wanted to be a writer for as long as I can remember. My answer, after some thought, was that I’d probably be an artist of some sort. I’d still have to be in a creative field to be happy.
4. “And you’re still married?” (From a 4th-grader after learning that I’d had over 300 rejections before my first acceptance on 20+ manuscripts I had circulating when I first started—and after each rejection I’d stomp about the house, get upset, maybe cry.) My answer: “Hah!” I was laughing so hard, I couldn’t speak. (NOTE: my loving and loyal husband of almost 30 years might have reacted differently! LOL!)
5. “Do you dye your hair?” (From a 2nd-grader.) “You bet I do!” I’m always honest with kids. (NOTE: when I told my hubby this, he said I should have answered that I put gray in it to make myself look wiser. Gotta love him!)
And you gotta love kids—their curiosity is not self-conscious. Their questions are simple, genuine, and direct. I always loved that old TV show: Art Linklater’s Kids Say the Darndest Things. That show may have even, in a subtle way, helped me find the path that led to this bliss, writing for kids.
The darndest thing a child ever said to me at a school visit: “You’re going to die someday.” (From a kindergartener in a school situated in the inner city of Detroit. Her school was fenced, locked, patrolled by uniformed security, and surrounded my numerous shells of burned out houses. Who knows what may have happened in her life to prompt this statement.) She was in the front row, sitting on her bottom in a library of a few old books. I knelt before her and said simply, “That’s true. I will die one day.”
As I said, I’m straight with them. Sometimes that’s all a child needs at a particular moment—one adult to respond on an equal footing. (We seemed to be buddies for the day, after that.)
Take care . . .
Cheers!
Shutta
Posted in October, 2007
|