Holly is a long-time acquaintance from SCBWI (Society for Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators). I frequently saw her at our local chapter meetings “way back when,” learning the craft of writing, immersing herself in language and story. It’s a joy and a privilege to see her perseverance come to fruition. Congratulations, and thanks for joining us, Holly! 

How did you get started in writing? Did you always know you wanted to be a writer?

First of all, thank you, Michele, for inviting me to visit your blog!

I think my first documented instance of fiction (the first my mom saved, anyways), was from circa first grade—a donut goes on a voyage, strolling down Candy Street, Pizza Street…you see what captured my attention back then. The stories continued, culminating in two teen romance novels in eighth grade. This was before I actually experienced teen romance. Afterward, I wrote some achingly forlorn poetry and short stories.

In college, I thought I wanted to write for adults so I studied literature. When I was just about to go on for my PhD and a teaching job, I realized I had abandoned my love of writing—and specifically, writing for a younger audience. So I joined SCBWI, took some classes and formed a critique group, and spent some years learning the craft.

What was your inspiration for TELL ME A SECRET?

I thought I wanted to write and illustrate picture books—I had this (I kid you not) 1,600 word epic rhyming picture book about the sun, moon, and stars. I still can’t believe they didn’t kick me out of SCBWI for that. But even though I wasn’t getting to the heart of anything meaningful, I value those years for teaching me how to write.

The story had to come from something much harder—first, the loss of a dear friend’s older sister, followed by the loss of our first child at birth. I almost gave up right there, but some very encouraging friends wouldn’t let me. TELL ME A SECRET fell out of the sky as a fully formed idea. I knew it was the book I was supposed to write, I just had to find the courage.

Miranda’s story isn’t mine, but much of her emotional journey came from the path I walked. I originally meant for the story to end differently, but it didn’t turn out that way—both stories finished with far more hope. (Our second little one just turned five!)

TELL ME A SECRET is your first novel for young adults. Describe the moment you first learned that the book had sold.

I was just about to catch a flight to the SCBWI conference in L.A., 2008! My agent sold it to the editor of my dreams, one I didn’t even dare hope would love my novel, in a two-book pre-empt. So I’m pretty sure I didn’t get on a plane. I flew myself, on a cloud of bliss.

Who inspires you?

My friends, my family, my memories, the world. I’m no longer afraid to write the things that are meaningful to me, which has freed me on so many levels. The next book is about a suburban girl who runs away to the streets of Seattle, leaving secrets in her wake. It’s gritty and romantic, and it’s about what it means to love. Slated for Fall 2011!

What advice do you have for aspiring writers?

Classes and books and friends can teach you how to write—living can teach you the story. It’s a slow process, like a bud opening. Be patient and gentle with your writing self—and wrestle her to the ground when necessary.

Thank you again, Michele!

(Join Holly online at www.hollycupala.com and www.TellMeASecretNovel.com. On June 22, she’s having a virtual party on her blog with giveaways, quizzes, food, and “all kinds of craziness.” Sounds fun, Holly!)

If even the pros fall prey to such yawningly slow beginnings, how much more susceptible is the novice writer? Very, as it turns out. Often novice writers begin their stories thinking that they have to tell us everything up front in order for us to understand what’s going on. I’ve read middle grade manuscripts in which twenty or more characters are introduced in the first chapter alone, not because those characters were necessary to the chapter, mind you, but because the writer was under a “can’t-leave-anything-out” evil spell. The irony is, these tell-all openings are less intelligible than if the writer used a “need-to-know” approach.

So where should you begin your story? The general rule of thumb is to begin your story at the moment your character experiences a dramatic life change:

• On the day the girl’s father mysteriously disappears.
• On the day the high school valedictorian opens the letter from Harvard, declining him admittance.
• On the morning of the fire.

You would be surprised at how little information is really needed before the story is off and running. The Newbery Honor book, HATCHET, by Gary Paulsen, makes a great example. Chapter one opens with the teen character, Brian, the sole passenger aboard a single engine plane bound out of New York. Already we know something unusual is happening. Where is Brian going and why? Soon we discover his parents have divorced; it was messy and there is a secret involved. Paulsen doesn’t divulge the secret, because keeping secrets creates suspense. So we keep reading . . . We soon learn that Brian is headed to his father’s home in Canada for the summer. We’re flying over northern Canada now and, even if we hadn’t read the back cover, we have a gnawing sense that something bad is about to happen . . . Paulsen uses the escalating suspense as an opportunity to feed us tidbits of information. When we have enough information to understand Brian’s situation, the endless custody battles, to feel sympathy for Brian as a character, sure enough, the pilot has a heart attack and we are, henceforth, riveted . . . in it together. We crash-land in a freezing cold lake with a dead pilot beside us. It’s a fight for survival and no one knows we’re here . . .

Note that Paulsen begins the story on the day everything changes for Brian — the day the plane crashes, leaving him stranded in the wilderness. Note also that Paulsen frames his beginning– who his character is, why we need to care about the character, what the character is doing and why — within the context of a scene. We learn all this while Brian is flying, while a cold certainty comes over us that something bad is about to happen. Present scene, overlayed with backstory, creates a perfect balance for a perfect beginning. Once the plane has crashed, Paulsen continues to weave backstory into the present survival story.

Now, just so we’re clear, the beginning didn’t have to work this way. Paulsen could have thrown you immediately into the action: the plane crashes. The challenge for Paulsen would then become how to introduce Brian and make us care. It can be done, but it’s tough. Or, Paulsen could have had just the plane ride, followed by the crash, followed by the backstory. All or nothing: action / inaction. The challenge for Paulsen would then be to avoid stupification. To pace the story appropriately so that it had a compelling balance of action, thoughts, dialogue, and narration. So while the beginning didn’t have to begin the way it did, it was nevertheless perfectly written, a suspenseful scene interwoven with need-to-know info, all quickly leading to the one event that changes Brian’s life forever.

Hope that was helpful. Let me know if there are other beginnings you admire.

Next week? Story questions and hooks. Stay tuned . . .

Not long ago, I asked my local writing community for book donations to help orphans in Tanzania. (Orphans Africa, a non-profit 501 (c) 3 charity which I co-founded, was having its first gala dinner and auction and we needed auction items.) Two days after I broadcast my plea, I received some beautiful autographed books. That was only the beginning. Over the next few weeks, autographed books flooded into my local post office, eliciting raised eyebrows from the postmaster as I walked out each day, arms piled high. Picture books, novels for children and adults, self-help books, inspirational books, chapter books for young readers . . . the writers of the Pacific Northwest sent their very best. Their generosity literally brought me to tears.

So this is my official group hug. To each of you who gave, thank you and God bless you. And for those of you who attended the auction and purchased book baskets, wow! We raised over $17,000 at our auction, enough to nearly complete a kitchen and dining hall at our nursery and primary boarding school for orphans! Even now, our official group hug is reaching across the ocean to embrace children who otherwise wouldn’t have a chance at a quality education. It is essential to their well-being to know that people care about them.

The following authors generously donated books. As an extended group hug, I invite you to visit their websites, peek around, and post your accolades and appreciation. They deserve it.

Kobbie Alamo

Andrea Torrey Balsara

Anjali Banerjee

Carole Stevens Bibisi

David Bouchard

Martha Brockenbrough

Royce Buckingham

Dia Calhoun

Janet Lee Carey

Nina Durfee

Marilou Flinkman

Heather Vogel Frederick

Kathryn Galbraith

Ron Hirschi

Peg Kehret

Judith Laik

Kirby Larson

Margaret Lippert

Susan Marlow

Clare Hodgson Meeker

Gretchen Olson

Craig Orback (illustrator)

Terry Persun

Colleen Reece

Joni Sensel

As I doubt anyone has the patience to read through a 100-page summary of all my experiences, I’ll be merciful and brief. Maybe in the coming weeks, if you’ll allow, I can share a few more tidbits with you.

Regarding the Orphans Africa portion of my trip, here were some of the more memorable moments:

• Sitting under the stars with one of our young teachers, Stella, while she asked questions regarding the stars, the sun, and whether the earth really orbits the sun, finally confiding that she’d like to be an astronomer someday. (Remind me to mail her a book on astronomy. . . .)

• Doing an impromptu dance after using an outdoor privy. (BTW — cute, seemingly innocuous, little black ants move very quickly. They especially like the inside of pants. Shirts too. And bras. Plus they have a fondness for scalps. And they bite. Hard. And no, you cannot “do your business” faster than the ants can crawl up your legs. Tried that. Not possible. Not unless you’re super dehydrated, which begs the question, what are you doing in the privy?)

• Singing and doing a different kind of dance with a group of African widows as we made our way down the dusty road.

• Eating kuku (chicken) and wali (rice) for the one millionth time.

• Telling someone in Swahili that my friend was feeling ill, but instead of saying mgonjwa (sick person), I said nguruwe, (pig). Seeing the look of confusion, I repeated myself until I was certain they’d understood me . . . (!)

• Giving a speech in front of 130 orphans students at one of the secondary schools Orphans Africa is helping to build. (A year and a half ago, none of them were in school.) Afterwards the students sang their school song (which they’d composed) and danced for us. (Click here to see a video of the Mwaji Secondary School.)

Our fearless team of mountaineers

• My team of friends and our fearless leader — what awesome people! Hi guys! Every one of them was encouraging, supportive, fun, and courageous! We’re BFFs now, no doubt about it.

• Being greeted each day after a long hike by our African support staff, who sang and danced as we trudged into camp. Besides bringing tears to our eyes (I know I’m not the only one), it made us feel just a little less tired. What a great staff!

• Scrambling up lava rock. Didn’t think this ol’ guul still had it in her!

• The awesome views of Kilimanjaro and the surrounding valleys.

• Summitting despite not being able to keep down any food or water on summit day. (Sorry, no pics yet. Maybe later. Couldn’t bring a camera as many digitals go kaplooie at 19,300′ elevation. I was using a borrowed camera, so I couldn’t take that chance. I know there were photos taken, so it’s a matter of hunting them down.)
  

  Singing camp songs

• Being up at the top with my friend, Connie.

• Making it down safely with my friend, Connie.

• Taking a hot shower at the end of it all.

• Eating a pizza.

So after five weeks of incredible, yet exhausting experiences, as I was flying over the United States on my last leg of the return journey, I became very emotional. I was finally . . . at long last . . . home. That word has come to mean a lot to me, in ways I find difficult to put into words.

I’m home where communication is easy. Where we pick up the phone and call whomever we want, whenever we feel like it. Where we send off quick emails. Where we Skype or Chat. Where we can send documents across the nation overnight.

I’m home where the water is safe, clean, and abundant. Where I can turn on a faucet in my house and watch it pour out. Where I can take a hot shower whenever I want, or drink a glass of cool water straight from the faucet without getting sick. Where I can fill a kiddie-pool with a water hose. Water my lawn. My flowers. Water, water, everywhere.

I could go on, waxing eloquent about medical care (troubled as it is), our individual freedoms, pizza (oh my God . . .  pizza), life expectancy, pizza (did I say pizza?), transportation — but you get the drift. As I flew over Washington State I had to tell myself not to start bawling. But when I finally made it into my husband’s arms, I couldn’t contain the tears any longer. He wondered if something was wrong — maybe some kook had been bothering me on the plane, maybe I’d stubbed my toe — but I finally choked out that I was simply glad to be home. Glad to be back. Glad to have done it.

Yes, I’m home.