Finding the "Write" Fit

The other night I watched an American Masters episode on PBS about Louisa May Alcott. As a result, I have become intrigued with the life of Alcott, and oh, how I love to feel intrigued! Have you ever watched a really good movie in which the characters were so complex and compelling that you found yourself thinking of them in the small hours of the night when you got up to go to the bathroom? This was like that.

Now, I have to admit that I only read a portion of Little Women when I was about ten or eleven and that I didn’t like it. I don’t remember why, but it didn’t enthrall me the way other books did. I think I will give it a second chance, knowing now that the book was nearly autobiographical. That’s the way it is with writers—we are secret exhibitionists. We put the intimate details of our lives and thoughts and hidden opinions out there through our characters, whether by accident or design. It’s a pleasant validation when someone thinks we’re worth reading about.

Among the many things about Alcott that resonated with me was how she came to success as a writer (considerable success—she was selling short stories for $200 in the 1850s. That’s roughly what I receive for my work today!). Alcott didn’t dream of writing children’s literature, let alone of becoming the J.K. Rowling of her day. She wrote for kids because that’s what was selling—that’s what paid well. Her real love was writing for adults, pushing the boundaries of convention with risqué tales written anonymously or behind the guise of a nom de plume. Alcott was no doubt appreciative of the comforts her prolific career as a children’s author afforded her, but maybe not as fulfilled as she hoped to be. It reminded me that writing careers often come about in different ways than we imagine they will.

I did not dream of becoming a writer for the Chicken Soup series of books. Before I sold my first story to Chicken Soup for the Child’s Soul, I never read a Chicken Soup book. The series, in my mind, was a gift book series, and I never received one as a gift. I had sold a story for the teen anthology True Volume 2, compiled by Irene Dunlap, one of the Chicken Soup editors. Before writing the story for True, I never considered that I might be able to write for the juvenile market. I simply read the story callout on Craigslist for inspirational stories for teens and I knew that I had something to offer. Shortly after the publication of “The New Girl” in True Vol. 2, I sent a story off to Ms. Dunlap for Chicken Soup for the Child’s Soul and it was accepted. I discovered that I enjoyed everything about writing for kids—the truth demanded in the storytelling, the discipline it requires, the fun of it. I have published more for adults than I have for kids, but I consider myself first a writer for children and young adults, because that’s where my heart is. In the same way, I suspect, Louisa May Alcott might have thought of herself as a writer for adults.

If you are a writer, even a published author in a specific genre, and you are feeling unfulfilled with what you’re writing, take a look at your bookshelves. Think about how you feel when you enter the children’s section of a bookstore or library. Maybe you’re meant to write for kids. If, during all the days I spent writing stories for adults that I never liked well enough to send out, I had taken inventory of my own bookshelf and made note of what gave me joy I would have seen E.B. White there with D.H. Lawrence and Konigsberg next to Kipling. Now Alcott will be there, too.

- Tiff