Zen and the Art of Faking It

People, people, people.

I am glad you all love Mockingjay. I’m happy you’ve been able to immerse yourselves in it over the past day or two. I’m thrilled that it seems to be proving all you wanted. Full disclosure: I haven’t read it yet, but I will, and when I get there, I’m pretty sure I’ll be seriously impressed as well.

BUT…

Please don’t compare yourself as a writer, as a not-as-good writer, as a writer-who-will-never-write-this-well. I don’t know Suzanne Collins personally, but I am willing to bet this was NOT HER GOAL when she wrote her trilogy. Really.

Okay, not everybody’s doing this. But I’ve read a few posts on Facebook and Twitter, though, and probably you’re half-joking, at least. I hope. Because comparisons stink. They make you feel bad about yourself, with no reason. No, I can’t tell you you’re wrong. In many ways, you’re right. Suzanne Collins has written a wonderful book, one you will not write yourself. I won’t write it, either. I also won’t write The Princess Diaries, My Father’s Dragon, Zen and the Art of Faking It, Donuthead, or Wuthering Heights.

Thank goodness someone already did.

Because these are some of the stories that made me fall in love with books, and keep me there. They’re the reason I write.

I know you guys don’t really mean it. I know you’re in love with Suzanne Collins’ stories and are happy, SO happy, that she’s given them to us. I wince, though, every time I read a post saying one of you will never be this kind of writer. I want to hug you, to tell you it’ll be okay, and then–honestly–to throw a pillow at you (a soft, feathery one, but still…).

YOU’RE WRITING. You’re doing wonderful things, putting together beautiful (okay, and not so beautiful) combinations of words that nobody has created before you. You’re telling your story, the best you can…and that’s HUGE!

Remember that, okay?

My son and I have recently discovered Jordan Sonnenblick’s books. It wouldn’t be wrong to say I’ve/we’ve been on a Sonnenblick-binge of reading. Here are the books we’ve fallen in love with so far:

The heroes of all three books are middle-school boys, in a very real middle-school world. This puts these books in the category my son doesn’t usually hook into. He’s not that big on reality or angst when he reads. But Sonnenblick caught him-and me–with one of the most important qualities for my son’s reading–humor. It is pretty much impossible to read a chapter in these novels without laughing out loud. Yes, sometimes, you want to cry, too, but the laughter is always coming along. At the perfect time.

As a writer, though, there’s another aspect of Sonnenblick’s books that I truly admire.

I have a critique partner who is brilliant at reminding us all to “make bad things happen” to our heroes. And Sonnenblick has skill down pat. He takes it a step further, though. He makes at least half of those bad things the hero’s fault.

San and Alex and Steven mean well. They mean soooo well. It’s an absolutely beautiful character flaw. Every time these boys get into a mess, and they get into plenty, they try to fix it, to clean it up. They have perfected the art of digging themselves deeper into a hole. They could dig through to China. None of the heroes are stupid or naive. They are great kids, with huge hearts, but life throws them a wrench, and–pretty much–they use that wrench to knock themselves over the head.

And here’s what that does to the reader. It has the reader completely rooting for San and Alex and Steven. I decided today that it’s kind of like that whole I Love Lucy feeling, when you know that another bad thing is going to happen, except you can only root for Lucy so much, because–you know–her goal is to get on Ricky’s show, so mostly you just get a stomach ache worrying. No stomach ache in Sonnenblick’s books, because the kids’ goals are always great ones, and you are just so proud of them for going after those goals, no matter how hard things get.

Okay, maybe that’s the Mom reaction–the pride. I’m pretty sure the feeling I get of “Oh, Honey,” and wanting to pull the kids into a big hug is also just the Mom reaction. My son? I think he’s feeling a complete camaraderie with these boys—watching them put themselves out there, risk making fools of themselves, and often succeeding—and thinking, “Oh, yeah. Definitely yeah.”

Which, really, is what books for kids and teens should be all about.

Tag: Zen and the Art of Faking It

Comparisons: A Small Rant

Jordan Sonnenblick: Perfectly Imperfect Heroes