The Power of Rookie-Mind, Even If You’re Not One
At first I didn’t recognize the gift. A kid in my fifth-grade class was looking through The Guinness Book of World Records, trying to find one he could break and become famous. At the top of his list was the banana-eating record—17 in two minutes, or one every seven seconds. Simultaneously grossed out and intrigued, that night I tried a test run.
(How and Why to Write About Tough Topics in YA Fiction.)
It was a very interesting experience. (Hint: Do not cram an entire banana in your mouth at one time.) Indigestion ensued, but finally so did a realization—there’s story potential here! I didn’t imagine the premise for my first middle-grade novel—I’m Going to Be Famous—it was right in front of me, when I finally paid attention.
Story radar up and running, I tried to keep on the lookout for more ideas. Life is full of distractions, so it wasn’t easy to stay focused. Until the day my three-year-old daughter, Kelsey, snuck into the kitchen to make a loaf of bread. What she made instead—in a matter of seconds—was a HUGE mess. She worried that her mom and I would be upset. Actually, we thought she looked pretty funny dusted in baking flour, standing in a puddle of spilled milk, broken egg yokes, and stringy dough. And besides, her heart was in the right place. She was just trying to help.
Later, I jotted down in my notebook what had happened. (Always carry a notebook, or some way to record ideas.) I made an attempt at writing a tale of a girl who tried to bake bread for her family. It took many failed iterations for me to finally let go of that preconceived story arc and open myself up to other possibilities. Freed from self-imposed fences, Rookie-Mind took over, and the story quickly evolved into my third picture book, A Regular Flood of Mishap.
Fast forward a few years: Three friends and I were backpacking the 41-mile Timberline Trail that circles Mt. Hood in the Oregon Cascades. Halfway around, I was waxing rhapsodic for the umpteenth time about my experiences summiting the iconic peak when Dan asked me why, if I loved mountains and scaling them so much, I’d never penned a novel with a climbing focus. It was a head-slapping Rookie-Mind moment.
Why hadn’t I written what I know? By the time I got back to the trailhead, my mind was buzzing with plot and character ideas, my notebook filled. Two years later Storm Mountain was born. Thanks, Dan!
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Rookie-Mind now fully activated, the gift of stories continued rapid-fire: middle-grade novels, picture books, as well as nonfiction. I appeared to be at the top of my game—19 books published, multiple awards, a teaching position on the faculty of the Writing for Children and Young Adults program at the Vermont College of Fine Arts. But in reality I was actually starting to feel a bit . . . well, stale.
Or was it worse than stale? Was I washed up as a writer? Yikes!
Weeks went by. Months. Several years. I kept pecking away, but nothing resonated. Then one day, while rock climbing with a friend, he told me a true story—of a young man’s death on a mountainside, of the grief of those who were with him when he died, of the love that was eventually born out of that shared grief. This certainly had story potential, but not for my usual audience.
These were mature themes, for mature readers. This was YA. Young adulthood—the era of firsts, the drama of unfolding lives, when the stakes seem unflinchingly high. No hedging on scenes allowed. Raw and to-the-bone writing required. A redefinition of myself as a writer. Let go of expectations, Tom! Bury any illusion of mastery. Foster curiosity. Question everything, especially what I was sure I already understood. Write a novel as if for the first time.
In other words, revive my Rookie-Mind.
Eight years of hard work ensued, including 62 rewrites and feedback from beta readers, my agent, and my writer friends. Eight years of highs and lows, of resisting the urge to give up. Ultimately perseverance prevailed, along with the best editor I could wish for. A 341-page manuscript shrank to 271—leaner, more propulsive. And now finally my 20th book, my “debut” YA, There Is No Map for This, is in hand.
The story is out there if you pay attention, nix preconceptions, open yourself to possibilities. Embrace the power of Rookie-Mind, even if you’re not one. Your readers will be oh-so-glad you did.
Check out Tom Birdseye’s There Is No Map for This here:
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