An Excerpt from Finders Keepers...

From my new book, Finders Keepers:  



    BWOOP! Went the siren the day her dad was pulled over. They were all in the car, all five of them. Amber, her mom, her dad, and the twins, Bailee and Brady. They were only babies then. Amber was seven. 

“Oh, Sean!” Amber’s mom moaned. Her dad said a bad word and pulled to the side of the road. Amber immediately forgave him.

         “License and registration.” The police officer demanded.  Amber watched the man watch her daddy. She knew he was with the good guys. But she didn’t like him. Not one bit. Her mom shuffled papers in the glove compartment and finally handed a folded up paper to her dad.
        “Texas license, huh?” The policeman eyeballed her dad. “Just move here?”

“Yes, sir.” Her dad said. “Last week.”

         “Beautiful weather for it.” The police officer said, and Amber didn’t know but thought he must be joking. The skies were gray and she hadn’t seen the sun since they’d left the oven heat of Texas.
        “Well, you were going 50 in a 30.” The officer said, handing her dad the little plastic card and folded up paper. “You gotta be careful on this road. We got deer. Bear. And there’s the Children’s Center.” 
        They all looked at the post on the side of the road. It held up a green sign with white lettering that read: Echo Glen Children’s Center. 
       “What’s a Children’s Center?” Amber asked from the back seat after the whole ordeal was over and they were almost to her Grandma’s house in Seattle. The sun poked through the clouds and stabbed the skyline ahead of them. The city. She hated the city.  It was all dirty and noisy and smelled like pee. Thank goodness they hadn't moved there. 
       “I don’t know.” Her dad said.
       “Maybe it’s a daycare.” Her mom said, hopefully. “Or a preschool.” 
       “That would be nice.” Her dad said. “See? We’re going to love Meadow Creek Ridge. It’s a great place to raise a family.” 
       “I know, Sean.” Her mom said, like they’d had this discussion a million and one times. “I’ll have to check it out.” 
       Then the babies started crying and traffic came out of nowhere, making her dad say more bad words (for which Amber forgave him… again.) And everybody forgot about the Echo Glen Children’s Center. Until three years later when the helicopters whirred overhead day and night. And in kitchens throughout the safe neighborhood of Meadow Creek Ridge, parents huddled with their children and muttered, “That poor, poor girl.”

What Every Author Who Has Children Needs

Right?

Putting the Screws to my Draft

I'm revising.
Putting the screws to my draft.
Tight.  Tighter.
Watch out!  She's gonna blow!

A Multiple Choice Question

We all want our pain to mean something.  But what if it doesn't?  At least not the way we want it to.

What can you do with your pain?

A.  Hide it.
B.  Numb it.
C.  Beat the snot out of it.
D.  Run from it.
E.  Make it smaller than someone else's.

OR

A.  Show it.
B.  Feel it.
C.  Learn from it.
D.  Give it boundaries.
E.  Make it bigger than someone else's.

But there's one thing not any one of us can do and that is:

Get out of it. 

So, let's get on with it. 

Happy writing,
Rachel

From the End to the Beginning

I'm working on my next book, with the end in mind.  Can't wait to work this out and see what capers these kids get into!  This story is about pretending:  The adults pretend too much (as in everything is fine, when it's not) and the kids don't pretend enough (too busy with 'activities' and not enough unstructured playtime.) 

Finders Keepers is a contemporary fiction 40,000 word novel for the middle grades.  Ten-year-old Amber Hart, an ambitious and popular girl who uses scheming and back-stabbing to mask a learning disability, must start over when her parents lose their home to foreclosure.  She becomes friends with Sam, also 10, whose family are what some people call Doomsday Preppers.  Sam uses his zest for “survivalism” to mask loneliness.  Amber and Sam spend their afternoons making up games and battling imaginary creatures in the woods that separate the picture-perfect suburban Ridge from the more rural-like Old Town; both are in the city of Meadow Creek.  One day as the two play in the woods a helicopter whirs overhead.  Then another.  Amber’s mom tells her she is not allowed to play in the woods anymore, because something dangerous hides there.  What?  She will not say.  Sam’s father tells him the same thing.  But Amber is not a child who accepts “because I said so” as an answer.  She and Sam decide to find the thing in the woods themselves—or not— and prove to the grown-ups their favorite play place is safe, and they should be allowed back in. 

Padma is an “apartment-kid” in Meadow Creek Ridge where Amber and her family moved.  For many years, popular Amber and her friends shunned her simply because she didn’t live in a house.  Apartment kids could not be in the popular clique.  Period.  But when Amber surprisingly moves in next door to Padma, she hopes that will change.  Instead, Amber is shunned as an “apartment-kid," moving Padma no closer to the popular circle of friends.  Smart Padma discovers she can win favor with Amber's old friends, though, by spying on Amber.  She’s being used, and she knows it, but she finally feels liked.

So, when Amber and Sam sneak into the woods, Padma follows them.  She reports back to the popular kids that Amber is looking for something in the woods.  The popular kids devise a plan to scare Amber and Sam.  Adventures follow.  More to come on that!

But what the kids don’t realize—either because the parents aren’t being completely honest with them or are just too busy to know it—there really IS something dangerous lurking in the woods.  And when a child goes missing, the divided town must come together to find her, and reveal a dark secret no one, especially the Ridgers who worry about their homes’ property values, wants brought to light. 

The Writing Pantry

I am going to tell you a secret about moms. 
All moms.
Lean in. 
Listen carefully. 
You won't want to miss this.
Ready?
We HATE cooking dinner.  Despise it.
Almost as much as teachers HATE homework (yes, that's another secret for another day, kiddos.)

We don't hate cooking dinner so much b/c we hate cooking.  Some of us actually like cooking.  When we have the time.  And the energy.  And the supplies.  And someone is there to clean up after us.  And, yes, the family actually eats and enjoys what we've cooked.  Which is probably one out of one hundred dinners cooked in America.

But I thought this blog was about writing, not cooking!  You are right, Sensei.  Inner editor.  Now go back to the inner monologue where you belong!

The secret about writing is not really a secret at all.  I've written about it before.  We don't like to revise.  We want our stories to come to us ready-to-serve.  Pop it in the microwave for one minute and enjoy... sort of.  Nevermind letting stories simmer.  Or finely chopping those details.  Or leaving the yucky parts in the trash. 

But there is nothing about a story that is fast.  Even though sometimes we need to write fast!  That is why I believe writers need a pantry of ideas, bits of dialogue, observations about the world.  Here are a few ways I stock my writing pantry:

1.  Write down distinct bits of dialogue.  These are never copied (plagiarized) from a television show, movie, or someone else's writing.  They are usually from my children, family members, or the kids at the park.  I'm listening!

2.  Memories.  Sometimes a smell or a song or a piece of clothing even will trigger a memory from my childhood.  If I'm smart, I run to my notebook and write it down quickly before I forget the nostalgia of it.  This is probably my favorite way to stock my writing pantry.

3.  Story starters.  I have literally boxes and boxes of "first pages" of stories I've begun over the years.  If I need a kick-start I pull one of these gems out and fall right into the place I left off 10 years ago.  It's magical. 

4.  Observe.  This is where blogging comes in.  I watch people.  A LOT.  It sounds kind of creepy, but it's not really.  Really!  I'm just taking a mental note of how people interact... body language, dialogue, relationships, humor.  I had a friend one time who used to call me when she was a stay-at-home mom, and she used to say the strangest things to her daughter while I was on the phone.  Like, "Alexis, your cheese is not a hat!"  And "Do not stab your brother with your chicken nugget."  I guess she liked to call me at lunchtime.  Those bits of dialogue became part of my writing pantry, but so did the observation that mommies lose about 25 points of their IQ during their children's mealtime. 

So, moms:  stock that pantry because you know dinnertime is coming.  And writers, you would be wise to do the same. 

Happy writing,
Rachel

Space Cadet

Me.
Circa 1980.

Funny.  With heart.