Then, sadly, they took a picture for the year book

I got to go to Bandit’s fifth grade class today. It was my fervent hope that I’d embarrass him, but I’m not certain it really worked out that way.

The reason I was there in the first place was because his class is participating in NaNoWriMo next month. They’re each writing a 10,000 word story in November. I’d read about it in his teacher’s weekly newsletter and I wrote her to say how excited I was for the kids to do that project. Once she found out I was a published author she asked if I’d be interested in coming to the class.

“Sure!” I said. How much fun! She asked me to talk about how I plot my stories, to give advice on dialogue, and explain how I create characters. I said I’d be happy to answer questions. I really hoped they’d have questions. I admit to being a little intimidated about talking for an hour. I don’t know why I worry about that so much. For God’s sake I talk all the damn time. This time, I was worried about talking over their heads, or being boring, or something worse. I don’t know what’s worse to 10-year-olds than being boring, but I didn’t want to be it.

I showed up with copies of my books and a lot of my worksheets and such to show. I didn’t have to show nearly 1/2 of it because these kids had A LOT of questions. Really it was like being at one of my grownup writers group meetings and doing a manuscript clinic.

They’re smart – and the teacher has done a hell of a job introducing them to building blocks. They know point of view, dark moments, climaxes, scene structure. They knew more than I did when I started writing.

They wanted to know how I constructed a believable villain. How many scenes I wrote. What was the secret to crafting believable secondary characters. Seriously, they asked that.

A girl wanted to know how much of me was in my characters. Was it alright to model plots points after events in your own life?

They quickly became obsessed with how many words I written. Then one kid wanted to know how many letters that equated to.

My boy sat in the back and fed me questions like Ava does when I talk to a group, helpfully filling the dull spots like a champ.

“How many times have you had to rewrite a book?”

“Why don’t you get to pick your titles?”

One kid found the idea that all my stories end with a Happily Ever After deplorably dull, the pinnacle of boring. He said, in his story, no matter how hard the hero tried, he’d never be able to defeat the villain.

“It’s all going to end up with the world exploding,” he said, mimicking the explosion with his hands.

“Well,” I said, “You’re not going to leave you a lot of room for a sequel then, are you? You’re publisher won’t like that very much.”

I’m going back next month in the middle of NaNoWriMo to check in on their progress and tell them how my 8th book is coming along. I’m feeling the pressure to get words to the page like never before!