By Sarah Glenn Fortson
Recently, I’ve come across articles on the importance of knowing your strengths as a writer. We humans tend to focus on shortcomings. When we read a critique of a work-in-progress, we most likely come away thinking of the “needs improvement” suggestions.
Trust me, it’s important to hear shortcomings. For example, my first few drafts of my book, GRANNY SMITH WAS NOT AN APPLE had talking bees in the orchard. At a conference, the presenter who critiqued my work said, “If this is a true story, get rid of the darn talking bees.” Except she didn’t say “darn.” Although a bit harsh, I am forever grateful that she pointed it out.
But in this post I want to take a hard look at the Granny Smith story in search of what I did well.
On the first page you’ll find imagery in the form of apple related words. “Listen carefully. Do you hear a crunching sound? Peel back England’s fog. You see Maria Ann Smith. A woman raised tough to the core.”
In several places throughout the story, I employ alliteration. “She will plow or pick or prune. She will shear or shuck or shell.” Before the families voyage to Australia, neighbors warn her of “seasickness, shipwrecks, and seafaring pirates.”
I’m proud of the sidebars throughout the book and the research I put into them. I was especially excited to find the actual ship manifest that listed the Smith family as passengers.
Lyrical language also stands out in my mind as something I did well. “…husband and son are climbing a ladder to place the beam to give the roof its pitch. Maria is mixing the mud to make the mortar to hold the walls in place.”
“She’s clearing the land to plow the rows, to plant the seedlings, to grow the apple trees.”
And at the end, I refer back to portions of the language used at the beginning in order to tie the story together in a neat little bow. “Listen carefully. Do you hear a crunching sound? Peel back the branches and you will see a gray-haired lady walking between rows of trees heavy with green apples. The crunching sound is Granny Smith--biting into one of the green apples that will soon be named in her honor.”
Now, dear reader, I challenge you. Take out your most recent work-in-progress and search for your strengths. Make a list of every aspect of your writing that gives you that sense of pride. Don’t be shy. Is there room to expand any element, or is what you have already enough?
Good luck. I bet you find more than you expect.
About the Author:
GRANNY SMITH WAS NOT AN APPLE is Sarah Glenn Fortson’s second book published by Peter Pauper Press. It was illustrated by Kris Aro McLeod and edited by Mara Conlon. Sarah’s debut is titled THIS COWGIRL AIN’T KIDDIN’ ABOUT THE POTTY, illustrated by Russ Cox. Sarah has a degree in journalism and a Masters in Education. She currently lives in Georgia. Learn more about Sarah at www.sarahglennfortson.com
Trust me, it’s important to hear shortcomings. For example, my first few drafts of my book, GRANNY SMITH WAS NOT AN APPLE had talking bees in the orchard. At a conference, the presenter who critiqued my work said, “If this is a true story, get rid of the darn talking bees.” Except she didn’t say “darn.” Although a bit harsh, I am forever grateful that she pointed it out.
But in this post I want to take a hard look at the Granny Smith story in search of what I did well.
On the first page you’ll find imagery in the form of apple related words. “Listen carefully. Do you hear a crunching sound? Peel back England’s fog. You see Maria Ann Smith. A woman raised tough to the core.”
In several places throughout the story, I employ alliteration. “She will plow or pick or prune. She will shear or shuck or shell.” Before the families voyage to Australia, neighbors warn her of “seasickness, shipwrecks, and seafaring pirates.”
I’m proud of the sidebars throughout the book and the research I put into them. I was especially excited to find the actual ship manifest that listed the Smith family as passengers.
Lyrical language also stands out in my mind as something I did well. “…husband and son are climbing a ladder to place the beam to give the roof its pitch. Maria is mixing the mud to make the mortar to hold the walls in place.”
“She’s clearing the land to plow the rows, to plant the seedlings, to grow the apple trees.”
And at the end, I refer back to portions of the language used at the beginning in order to tie the story together in a neat little bow. “Listen carefully. Do you hear a crunching sound? Peel back the branches and you will see a gray-haired lady walking between rows of trees heavy with green apples. The crunching sound is Granny Smith--biting into one of the green apples that will soon be named in her honor.”
Now, dear reader, I challenge you. Take out your most recent work-in-progress and search for your strengths. Make a list of every aspect of your writing that gives you that sense of pride. Don’t be shy. Is there room to expand any element, or is what you have already enough?
Good luck. I bet you find more than you expect.
GRANNY SMITH WAS NOT AN APPLE is Sarah Glenn Fortson’s second book published by Peter Pauper Press. It was illustrated by Kris Aro McLeod and edited by Mara Conlon. Sarah’s debut is titled THIS COWGIRL AIN’T KIDDIN’ ABOUT THE POTTY, illustrated by Russ Cox. Sarah has a degree in journalism and a Masters in Education. She currently lives in Georgia. Learn more about Sarah at www.sarahglennfortson.com