Researching my Readers
How a Kid’s Author Got to Know Kids - Again
It used to be so easy. While my kids were young, I spent time with them and their peers. I was a girl scout leader. I also led a cub scout den. I lived surrounded by kids – my readers. I listened to their cares, followed their lives, watched their TV shows, and laughed at their humor. Then they grew up. My scout troops graduated from high school – and me. My nest emptied out. How would I get back in touch with my readers?
When I visit schools now, kids are mostly just a sea of faces. Writer-me learns what makes them collectively laugh aloud or hold their breath, lean forward in their seats, or shift in boredom. That informs the pace, tone, and topics of my writing
Occasionally I get real insights into kid’s lives. They come mostly at lunch, when I ask to eat with the kids – no teachers allowed. One little girl was distracted and acted out during my presentation. Over chicken nuggets, she told me she’d dropped her baby brother that morning on the bathroom floor. “Mom made me go to school. She took the baby to the doctor’s. I don’t know what’s happening …” That reminded writer-me that little people don’t just have little problems.
At another school, a whole table of kids rushed to defend me in the cafeteria. “Quick, pass it to me.” “Don’t let her see.” “Oh, she’s looking this way.” In short nervous sentences, the let me know that by taking two straws for my milk, I had put myself in imminent danger of persecution from the all-powerful cafeteria lady. From out lofty adult position this seems trivial. Down at their level in that cafeteria it was a real danger. They were genuinely afraid for me – and willing to take the extra straw, hide it away, and sneak it into the wastebasket. That reminded writer-me of the powerlessness and generosity of kids.
When I teach Writing Children’s Books to adults, I advise students who have no kids in their lives to volunteer at their libraries. “When you bend down to shelve books, you simply disappear. Once invisible, you can listen in on teen conversations, preschoolers fantasies, or tentative middle grade flirtations to your heart’s content.” The same applies to sitting on a playground bench, pretending to talk on a cell phone or read a book. MacDonald’s sometimes have indoor playgrounds – and great coffee. Sports teams need coaches, Scout troops need leaders, schools and literacy programs need volunteers. “Go where the kids are,” I urge.
Maurice Sendak famously has no contact with children. He claims not to like them and says he remember all he needs to know about childhood from his own experience. That works for him. Not me.
Over the last three months, I have struck a writer’s gold mine. I offered to lead a tween writer’s group every week. They come, middle schoolers and junior high kids, eager to learn. I teach, but run a loose program, emphasizing that I am a writer, not a school teacher. No grades. No rules about taking extra straws. They respond by blossoming open, sharing their lives and hopes, their slang, fears, and joys with writer-me. This kid-writer series will break soon for the holidays, and I’m sorry. A couple of my hours each week has made a great difference to these kids – and, unexpectedly, to me.
I would love to hear how you connect with kids – or if you, Sendak-like, lead “No kids allowed” writerly lives.
Tags: audience community connecting with readers library visits plot school visits
November 9th, 2009 at 8:38 am
Maybe this explains my evolution in writing. I started with picture books when my kids were small, moved onto MG novels, and am now working on YA. Hm. Does that mean I’ll be writing for adults after they leave the house?