Finding My Why

By Sarah Aronson 

At the end of every year, I go through my files to declutter and assess the collection of untapped ideas, false starts, and stories that didn’t find a home. In these entries, I see good ideas that made me curious. Stories that didn’t stand out. Even in the worst of the overworked and failed artifacts (the ones I call cadavers), I see my writing heart in search of connection.

 

I call these glimmers my why.

 

My why can stem from a memory, an interest, a purpose, or my obsessions. It is my personal connection and my stakes in the story. And if it isn’t there, it doesn’t matter how interesting the research is. The story rarely sings. This year, I also found two notes to myself (which inspired this essay): If you are stuck, Sarah, go back to your why. If you can’t give of yourself, you may not have found it.

 

Sometimes, when I stumble on an idea for a picture book biography, the why is obvious. That makes it easy to mine. When I decided to write Just Like Rube Goldberg, I had a lot of connections to draw on. As a kid, I tried to build the breakfast machine from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. (Note: use plastic!)

 

I played Mousetrap all the time. My dad shared his comics. As I began to do the research, I discovered another strong why: I noticed how people are distracted by their phones—and how much inspiration we miss when we can’t disconnect. It was just like Rube said: we can’t let machines make us lazy. We need to play! We need to use our brains! The story came out fast.

 

Abzuglutely: Buttling Bellowing Bella Abzug began with a similar lifelong connection. Bella was my childhood hero. As I wrote, I found my why in her commitment to speaking her truth. And helping all kinds of people. And the challenges of being a trailblazer. I felt those challenges. And her mission.

 

But other times, the why is a little less obvious. Or it changes with time and the experiences I’m having in the moment. When that happens, I have to keep learning. And digging. And reading. And reimagining. Over and over again, I must ask myself what my story and I share.

 

I like to take this work to the journal for a bit of side writing. I ask a lot of questions like: 

 

What do you love most about your story?

What is easy to write? What does this person stand for?

What do I have to say about this person?

How long have I known about this person, place, or event?

Do we share any ideas? If we were eating dinner together, what would we discuss?

What do the themes in this story mean to me?

Are your guiding beliefs on the page?

As you sit down to write, what do you want?

What do you fear? What are you hiding?

What don’t you want to share? (Then share it!) What is the most important scene in the book?

How do you feel when you read it?

What is happening in the world that makes the story more urgent?

Why is this my story to tell? Is my heart in this story? Or is my ego talking?

What inspired you to take it on? What is the conversation you wish to have with readers?

 

When I asked other writers how they find their why, I got flooded with responses. Everyone talked about curiosity and learning—and their love of doing research! They also talked about the desire to expand their interests and expose kids to forgotten people and stories and worlds. Friends, this is essential. We live in a time where some people want to change history—a world where they fear history and facts.

 

They also told me about their personal connections to their subjects.

 

Librarian and writer Melanie Meadors found her why through connecting to ancient texts. While writing Fantastic Flora, Ann McCallum Staats challenged herself to make a boring topic interesting for both her and the reader. Larisa Theule found connection to human ingenuity while writing Concrete. Elizabeth Tracy started writing Mystery Driver after listening to a story on the radio. But she found her why when she began to incorporate her love of STEM and physics.

 

Jennifer Swanson believes that the why is the connection that makes the book hers to write. For example, she wrote Up Periscope about US Navy hidden figure, Raye Montague, in part because Jen loves STEM! But her story was grounded in a shared experience. They both attended the US Naval Academy. 

 

Because the why becomes not just a theme, but a purpose and guiding light, it informs every decision we make in the process, from POV to page turns to the details that make the cut. The why gives us a voice, and often, an authentic point of view or vibe. When we are connected to a story, we can craft with intention how to increase anticipation (even when the reader knows what’s going to happen). We can confidently choose the details that belong in the front matter and the back.

 

All these elements invite readers to connect to the story. It forces readers to care. And when readers care, our books do something magical: they start conversations and even bigger connections, growth, and change. Isn’t that why we write?

 

In 2023, I got a challenge from a fifth-grade reader. He asked, “Why do so many books for kids feel like they were written for our teachers . . . and not really for us? Why do they all taste like medicine?”

 

Writers, nonfiction should never read like medicine. Nonfiction is exciting. It is interesting. It is story. When we know the why, our books don’t need to preach, because they are too busy helping our readers take action and make decisions for their futures.

 

Are you ready to stretch?

 

Think back to the moment you found your idea. Whether you were taking a walk, or reading a book, or listening to the news, or eavesdropping on some strangers: What was going on in the world? What made you decide to begin the research process? What were your obsessions? Do they show up in the narrative? If not, why not?

 

Write down what you love most about your story. What delights you? Or maybe what makes you want to rant? Is there something that scares you? Or something that excites you? What inspired you to take this chance and stretch further than you ever thought you could? Writing a nonfiction book is a wildly ambitious endeavor. So, find that connection. Know why this story is yours. Share your obsessions. And your heart. And the why that inspired you to work so very hard.

 

It’s worth every struggle.

 

Your readers are waiting.

 

Sarah Aronson began writing for kids and teens when someone in an exercise class dared her to try. Since then, she has earned an MFA in Writing for Children and Young Adults and published a variety of books for kids and teens from Head Case, to Beyond Lucky, The Wish List series, as well as Just Like Rube Goldberg, illustrated by Robert Neubecker, Brand New Bubbe, illustrated by Ariel Landy, and Abzuglutely!: Battling, Bellowing Bella Abzug, illustrated by Andrea D’Aquino.

 

When Sarah is not writing or reading (or making great soup or riding her bike along Lake Michigan), she is talking to readers about creativity, writing, social action, and of course, sparkle power! She loves working with other writers one on one or in one of her classes at the amazing Highlights Foundation. Warning: When she gets really excited, she makes funny faces and talks with her hands. Don’t be shocked if she talks about the power of play.

 

In March 2024, Sarah was awarded the Prairie Writer Award for contributions to literature and literacy. In 2025, she joined the Board of Directors of the Jane Addams Peace Association. She lives in Chicago, Illinois.