More Than Just Skin Deep--Creating Strong Female Characters

**NOTE This blog post has pictures of BEAUTIFUL, NORMAL, UN-PHOTOSHOPED, REAL teen aged girls to illustrate my point***

We’re all bombarded with it—gorgeous women, dressed in almost nothing, perfect bodies, perfect skin, perfect teeth, Photoshop perfection. It’s hard for a woman to feel like anything more than a freak compared to those images, much less to feel beautiful.

Advertisers, television producers, and Hollywood directors have gotten the message loud and clear—SEX SELLS. But what are we selling to a fourteen year-old girl, just growing into a woman and struggling to be accepted and more important—struggling to accept herself?

The message they're getting is harsh and painfully clear.

BEAUTY IS LIMITED TO SEX APPEAL.

A news story in my community brought this into focus for me. A fourteen-year-old girl, trying to hold onto her boyfriend, sent him picture of herself—naked. The story came out when that picture was sent from cell phone to cell phone around the four middle schools in town. The community was outraged and the boyfriend and several others were charged with distributing child pornography.

Less than a week later a Superbowl commercial showed a popular model, sitting i

n a bubble bath with her cell phone. She took a picture of herself and said, “I wonder what would happen if I hit ‘send’.” The next images were of men, dropping things, neglecting whatever they were supposed to be doing to stare at their cell phones.

THIS WAS FUNNY. AND SEXY! AND COMPLETELY ACCEPTABLE!

Double standard? Conflicting messages?

I recently read a quote from a General Authority in my church, Elder M. Russell Ballard, (Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints—Mormons).

He said, “Popular culture today often makes women look silly, inconsequential, mindless, and powerless. It objectifies them and disrespects them and then suggests that they are able to leave their mark on mankind only by seduction…”

As a writer of young adult stories, targeting teen aged girls, I’m increasingly conscious of the message that my stories send. As a mother (I know that comes into this a lot,) I am especially conscious of the messages that are being fed to my almost-teen aged daughter. I find myself searching as I read for what makes a strong female character.Where is a woman's power? Is it sex appeal? Is it seduction?

Nope.

My own case in point, in my first attempt at a YA novel, I worked hard to make my main character well-rounded. She worked in a nursing home, did community service, and she was a good friend. Then in

the name of word count I cut a bunch of those scenes out. After reading the story, a member of my critique group told me that the main character and the villaness, (a woman who used sex appeal to get what she wanted,) in the story were just alike and she couldn't figure out why the hero of the story would like either of them. I tried to defend myself by saying, “but the main character is hot.” Guess what? It wasn’t enough.

So, I went in search of strong female characters who didn’t rely on sex appeal. Some of my favorites, Katniss from THE HUNGER GAMES, (they tried to make her sexy, but she just came off as tough and everything she did was for her family), Hattie from HATTIE BIG SKY (homesteaded without the help of the rich and handsome rancher next door and showed compassion and love towards her and Mardie from THE RING (female boxer who learned to accept herself for what she was).

One of my new favorite character is Terra in Justine Chen's NORTH OF BEAUTIFUL. Terra is born with a port wine stain on her face. She works hard to maintain a perfect body to balance out the imperfection she sees in her face. The story is about learning to accept yourself for who you are. By the end Terra finds beauty in herself as she is and beauty in those around her, even in her overweight mother.

So what makes a woman strong and beautiful? Is it perfection? Is is sex appeal?

NO!

I submit that what makes a woman strong and beautiful is what's inside--self-reliance, compassion, and intelligence. And reality--zits, flat chests, big thighs, bad hair, and all is far more beautiful and far more interesting than Photoshop perfection could ever be.

So as I create my characters I will build into them courage and flaws and

character and compassion. Hopefully, the message my stories send will give teenager girls a sense of how beautiful and strong they already are.

Help me out. What are some of your favorite strong female characters? What makes them strong? What makes them beautiful?

A Childhood Lived Thrice...on Being a Kid, A Mother, and a Writer

It's been an interesting couple months. Besides my normal, crazy life, I have labored and given birth to my third child of paper--TIGERSEYE, (in addition to the four children of flesh I already have). As with any newborn, this child of paper has commanded a lot of my attention in revisions, critique groups, and now finally, querying (see previous post if you don't know what querying is). And as with any newborn, my other children (the real ones) have felt the neglect while I have spent extra time nurturing this new manuscript.

I have struggled with this issue of balance--where does my life as a mother end and my life as a writer begin?

As I thought about this, a new idea came to me.

I will never stop being a mother and I will never stop being a writer.

There is no end to either. And here's an even bigger epiphany:

In a lot of ways, they are the same.

Does that make any sense?

Let me try to explain it...

Once I was a child. Once I was a teenager. Now I'm a mother. More recently I have become a writer. Each of those phases of my life are interwoven in who I am and what I write. I chose to write for and about children and teenagers because: a) I LOVED being a child, b) I LOVED (hard to believe sometimes) being a teenager, and c) because I LOVE being a mom.

I get to live childhood three times! Once when I lived it, now as my children, live it, and again as my characters live it. I get to feel all of the joy and sweetness of swinging on a swing, or building a tree fort, or a first kiss, or a first soccer goal, or something as simple as triumphing over a math problem, again and again and again. (It also means I get to relive some of the bad stuff too, but I'm not dwelling on that.)

As I look back over just one crazy week of my life, I see moments that I want to capture forever in my heart and on paper--a pine cone fight, a little boy lying in the grass next to his pet tortoise, a flirty/funny text, laughing and collapsing on the floor in a moment of silly exhaustion, painting flowers on toenails, singing along with the radio at the top of our voices, a backpack loaded with binoculars and fishy crackers for adventuring, and the sweet sound of a six-year-old's voice reading for the first time:

"The sun did not shine. It was too wet to play. So we sat in the house all that cold cold wet day." (We can really relate to this in Washington)--Cat in the Hat.

Isn't that what writing is all about--capturing the moments of life that go by too fast? Isn't that what being a mom is all about?

I already have the best job in the world--Mommyhood--and now I'm working towards the second best job in the world--a recorder of childhood (aka a children's book author). Stepping back, I can see how these two jobs compliment more than conflict with each other.

So yes, my children's voices will be the soundtrack that I write to. There will be days when my flesh children will suffer in favor of my paper children, and there will be days when my writing suffers because I have one more field trip, one more soccer game, one more recital, or even one more book to read with my kids. But it will be okay. If through my writing I capture some of childhood and teenagerhood's precious (and even not so precious) moments, or if I help my children or someone else's child understand how sweet and precious and hopeful life can be, then I have done my job as both a mother and a writer.

And who knows, maybe in ten or fifteen years I'll get the chance to live childhood a fourth time, this time through grandchildren.

Writing and raising children is a big job, what do you think the role/purpose/responsibility of a children's or young adult author is?

On Beginings...

For those of you not in the writing/editing/publishing business I'll let you in on a secret...(but maybe you already know) beginnings are everything. You have to have a great ending to back it up, but without a great beginning, you're sunk.

Why are beginnings so important? Two words--first impressions, and when you're querying (the excruciating process every author has to go to get published) a first impression is often all you get. Most agents and editors want a query and a few sample pages. (And no, you don't get to chose your favorite passage or the most compelling part of your book, you have to give them your first pages.)

It makes sense, when you're book browsing you look at the copy on the jacket flap, and then maybe read the first few pages to see if you're interested before you buy the book.

Since I've been at this whole writing thing I have re-written my beginnings over and over. I've tried starting my stories in several different places to get to that one line, or scene, or moment that begins the journey and will suck the reader in. In fact, the file for my current work-in-progress was called "Alternate Beginning" for a long time. Because of my struggles I have become VERY interested in how other people begin their work.

There are the classics:

"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times."--A TALE OF TWO CITIES

"Once there were four children who's names were Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy."--THE LION THE WITCH AND THE WARDROBE.

Both pretty simple, but immediately recognizable.

There are the ones that suck you in:

"I'd never given much thought to how I would die--though I'd had reason enough in the last few months, but even if I had, I would not have imagined it like this. --TWILIGHT. (Okay, so this is kind of a cheat, a preface from a more exciting part of the story, but still...)

The ones that reveal none of the excitement buried within the pages:

When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold.--THE HUNGER GAMES

And the ones that are so off the wall that you just have to keep going:

First the colors. Then the humans. That's usually how I see things. Or at least how I try. HERE IS A SMALL FACT. You are going to die.--THE BOOK THIEF

Recently I got the chance to read the first two chapters of a book that's coming next month, TELL ME A SECRET by debut author, Holly Cupala. These chapters sucked me in, intrigued me, and in short did all of the things that first pages should.

Here's her opening line:

It's tough living in the shadow of a dead girl.

When I read Holly's first two chapters it hit me that this is what it takes to get published, milling through all the extraneous words and coming up with a great story, told in a great way, with a lot of heart. I'm also waiting (impatiently) for June 22nd when I can read the whole thing. Check out Holly's blog to read more.

So here is the opening two paragraphs of my work-in-progress THE TIGER'S EYE:

The clock says 6:35, even though it’s really 6:25. If everything was normal, the alarm would go off in five minutes. I’d hit the snooze button, pull the covers around my shoulders, and go back to sleep until Mom came in and forced me to get up. I used to stay in bed until the last possible minute and then dash around getting ready for school—looking for my shoes or a clean t-shirt, finally grabbing a granola bar and running out the door to the sound of Trip laying on the horn of his black Chevy pick-up.

Nothing is normal, and no one makes me go to school.

I'm interested in your impressions of my beginning. (I'll post the whole first chapter soon.) And I want to know, what beginnings do you like? Or what beginnings would make you put the book back without reading it?

The Wicked Natural Mother

Mothers.

Everybody has one, so when you write a fictional character, there has to be some kind of fictional mother. Mothers are great literary devices--someone to be smothering or absent, someone who is dead or is dying, someone who nurtures or tortures, in short, someone to blame all of life's problems on.

In fairy tales and nearly every Disney show, the sweet wonderful natural mother is gone, and the evil step-mother steps in to take her place and reeks havoc in the lives of the beautiful and pious heroine. The notion of the "evil" mother is so ingrained in our daughters by fairy tales, that when they became teenagers (IE, beautiful and pious) every mother (at least in their minds) evolves into the evil step-mother. (Or it could just be the natural tendency for a teenager to seek independence by pulling away from their parents.)

As a writer of young adult stories and as a mother, I'm stuck with a problem. How do I write a mother from a teenager's point of view without making her into, well, a witch? And as a mother of teenagers, how do I keep from becoming that witch?

This issue was driven home to me when I read "Someone Like You" by Sara Dessen, (a book I would highly recommend by the way.) In the beginning of the book, the main character, Halley is close to her mother. So close, that her mother uses their relationship as an example in her books about dealing with teenagers. BUT (and you knew it was coming) Halley starts to see her mother as stifling, nosey, and over-protective. Since this was one of the first young adult novels I read as my own children started to enter teenager hood, I looked at Halley and her mother's relationship from a different point of view. I realized, (gasp) I would soon be the wicked natural mother. I found myself rooting for the mom as much as I was rooting for Halley. (I won't tell you how the relationship ended up, you'll have to read the book.)

Now, two years after reading about Halley and her mother, I have arrived, wicked witch of the west, evil natural mother to two teenagers, one boy and one girl.

Lucky for me, the examples of motherhood in my life have been exceptional. I can only hope to be the mom my mom was. I try, really I do, but in the midst of my own mom/teenager arguments I hear the horrible things I said to my mother thrown back at me. (Hi Mom, did I mention I'm sorry?)

So back to writing and fictional moms...How do I write a realistic novel from a teenager's point of view and stay true to my own kind (all the mothers out there)? Because I think teenagers, maybe even more than infants or toddlers, need a mom or at least a mom figure. And because I don't want to be a purveyor of the idea that moms are evil.

I came up with the solution in two words--NOBODY IS PERFECT. Isn't that what makes a great story anyway? If we were all perfect, if we all walked around being nice all the time and not making any mistakes, there would be no good stories to tell. The moms in my stories can be selfless or self-centered, suffocating or absent, sweet or spicy or even just plain embarrassing and it's okay.

Another book I love, RUNNING FOR MY LIFE (written by Ann Gonzales), shows how a girl learns to deal with her mother's mental illness. There is no happily ever after in this book. Just learning to cope, learning to accept, and learning to be happy when life isn't perfect.


Now I'm not saying that there aren't some truly bad mothers out there, or some mothers who have ended up the way they are because bad things happened to them. What I'm saying is there has to be a balance in fiction like there is in life. It's like I told my daughter, "If you look for examples of me being mean or unfair I can guarantee you'll find them." (And I hope if she looks for examples of me being kind and generous and sweet she'll find those too.) Not even I'm perfect. So when I write a mother (or a mother figure), she can't be perfect, understanding, and June Cleaver, Carol Brady, or Clair Huxtable-like all the time. (Okay, way old references, is there a modern "perfect mom" example?) But she can't always be the wicked step-mother either.

So...I will continue to write my mothers with substance and feelings and character flaws. And yes I will use them for my own literary devices. And yes there will be conflicts and fights between them and their teenagers. But I would like to write them (and all of my characters) with hope and with the ability to learn and change and grow and love. That's the biggest lesson of life and I think it should be told over and over and over again.

On the subject of moms...What fictitious moms do you love, or love to hate? What are their good qualities? What are their bad qualities? What makes them believable? How do I craft a well-rounded mother? Is there a modern-day example of the perfect mom?

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY to my mom and all the mom's out there.

Clash of the Olympians--The Battle for the Books

Can a book start a war?



I've heard that Abraham Lincoln credited Harriet Beecher Stowe with starting the Civil War because she wrote, UNCLE TOM'S CABIN, and Edward Bulwer-Lytton said "the pen is mightier than the sword in his play RICHELIEU. But until a few weeks ago, I didn't realize the extent of social upheaval a book (or a set of books) could create within the confines of my own home.

Let me start out by saying I love to see my kids read. I'm always excited when by first or second grade they get beyond just sounding out words and have moved on to actual books. I love sharing the books I've read with my kids and I love it when they share their books with me. AND I love it when they share books with each other--usually.

And therein lies...
The Battle for the Books

In a far off land known as Olympia (not Olympus) a young maiden fell in love--in love with the tales of a boy named Percy Jackson. (PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIANS--Series by Rick Riordan)

And she read.

In the same land dwelt her nemesis, older brother, and sometimes avid reader himself. He happened upon one of the tales of Percy Jackson and he fell in...serious enjoyment (he's a teen aged boy, love is a little strong).

The young maiden was mired in basketball and homework and so soon her nemesis overtook her in reading the Tales of Percy Jackson. This caused a problem, nay a war, because although an order was in to the Shop of the Amazons, the Tales were on back order. Therefore when the young maiden's nemesis beat her to the school library (he having first lunch) he was able to get to the next tale of Percy Jackson (book three--THE TITAN'S CURSE) for himself.

And there was weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth. Therefore, the mother went on a quest for peace--to locate the next Tale. Alas, the stores were sold out.

The young maiden tried hiding the books from her nemesis but to no avail. The mother tried bargainings and threatenings, but the battles raged. Words like demigod and minotaur became common household words. An argument ensued over whether hippocampi could fly or only swim. After one heated discussion the young maiden told her brother to go to Tartarus. (I had to look it up after I sent her to her room.) During the course of the war a younger sibling took an interest and he began to read the Tales as well. The third book turned to the fourth book and the fourth book turned to the fifth, and war raged on, until the day when both the young maiden and her nemesis had completed all the tales.

And peace ensued. (Until the young maiden was caught hogging the bathroom.)

So who triumphed in the end?

Everyone.

Although peace in the household was sacrificed for a time, the young maiden and her nemesis complete all five of the Tales of Percy Jackson, and their younger sibling is now reading that fateful third tale. (The shop of the Amazons finally came through).

What more could a mother ask for then her children fighting over reading? (Complete sanity in the household not being an option.) They're going to fight anyway, it might as well be over something educational. The younger sibling (9) has developed the same love of reading that his brother and sister have. AND it has opened up a fun discussion between the three of them. They actually have something in common!

Unfortunately the mother is mired down in housework, chasing the young conquerors, and trying to do her own writing. She has to leave the room whenever a reference to Percy Jackson comes up in conversation for fear of uncovering some truth she wants to for herself. (She's only read the first one.)

So this tale comes with a warning...

By all means introduce the PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIANS into your household, but if you have more than one reader, you might want to get enough copies to avoid The Battle for the Books.

Now that we've made it past the battles I want to know...What books have you shared with your family? What makes a book appeal to several different ages?

Hard to Find the Words--Saying Good-bye

Sad.

Overwhelmed.

Lacking the words to express my gratitude.

Lacking the words to say good-bye.

That's how I felt as I watched my 33 students from Japan and their incredible adult guide, Izumi, board the bus to leave. I know that feeling was reflected in the Japanese students, their host families, and their new friends clinging to them with tears in their eyes. More than one person said to me, "How do you get to love someone so quickly?"

I've thought a lot about that in the last week. How do you get so close to someone when there's a language barrier, a culture barrier, and you only have a short time to spend with them? Maybe the feelings were so intense because we knew we only had one week together, or maybe because we know how far away we'll be from each other. Maybe the feeling comes from the realization that despite all of our differences we're the same.

At the end of the students' last day at Chinook, they were part of a spirit assembly. The Chinook students cheered while the Japanese students showed them their jump rope and martial art skills. Then the gym packed with middle school students got surprisingly quiet as the Japanese students sang. As a gift from the school, all of the Japanese students received a Chinook Middle School t-shirt. Instead of running for the door when bell rang, releasing them for Spring Break, many of the Chinook students stayed. There were hugs and tears on both sides as the kids' said good-bye to their new friends.

It was just the beginning of the good-byes.

The Japanese Students stayed after school to prepare a sayonara party for their host families. They were so nervous. They wanted to do a good job to show their gratitude for the people who had welcomed them into their homes for the week.

The program started with Eri--spokesperson and emcee for the evening. She said, "We hope you forgive if we make mistakes. Time was short to prepare."

The program was both impressive and fun--more jump roping, singing, piano music, dancing, magic tricks, and even a moonwalk that brought on three encores. I could see how proud the host families were of their exchange students, even if they were only part of their family for a week.

After the program, Christie Carlson, the other coordinator, and I handed out certificates to the students and the host families. Student after student came forward with beautifully wrapped gifts for Christie and I. I was overwhelmed, and yes, I cried.

Saturday was the last day with our students. Ours was a whirlwind--trying to fit in everything we wanted to show Mina before she had to leave. We painted eggs, went on an Easter egg hunt, and made a quick trip to Seattle. But the last two hours that she was here were my favorite. Mina and my kids make Japanese candies out of a kind of marzipan clay-dough that she had brought from Japan. They made sushi and ice cream cones, little hot dogs and even a tiny, edible copy of the wii balance board. I loved watching them laugh while they ate each other's creations. As with the rest of the week, sharing and relating and being friends with few words.

Then it was time to go.

Back to the scene in the parking lot. I cried. My kids cried. The students cried. The families cried. As I watched I couldn't help but remember that a few short generations ago my grandparents were at war with these beautiful, respectful, loving people. The relationship between our two countries has come a long way since then. Its my hope that in this one short week we have done something to influence the world for good--that the two groups of teenagers will remember this experience and know that in spite of all of our differences, we are very much the same. That the relationships that were formed this week can be the seeds of greater world peace.

As I try to sum up the feelings of gratitude, joy, and sadness I've experienced this week a phrase I heard from one Japanese student who was struggling to speak English comes to mind:

"Hard to find the words."

Finding Common Ground--Japanese Students at Aspire and Pleasant Glade

When I look back on this week, it's not the differences that stand out. Its the way this group of Japanese students and their American friends worked to find common ground without using words

On Thursday, nine of the students spent their morning at Aspire Middle School. These kids had a host brother or sister at Aspire. While most of the other host siblings got to take their Japanese student with them to school, the Aspire families had to say good-bye at the beginning of the school day. But on Thursday they got to keep their students with them.

Thursday was backwards day at Aspire--a reverse schedule (7th period first), backwards hair-dos, and yes, backwards clothes. Our Japanese friends really enjoyed this, because Japanese schools don't have dress-up or "spirit" days.

Most of the Japanese students started the day in leadership class. To welcome the students and give them a way to associate without a lot of conversation, Mrs. Wisnant had them play games. The first game was a kind of acting out, rock, paper, scissors game, except this was guy, girl, gorilla--a game translated easily in either language. The kids would mingle in a circle until the music stopped then they would have a face off--girl beats gorilla, guy beats girl, gorilla beats guy. Funny posses and funny faces made for a lot of laughing. The other two games saw the students running, sliding, trading places, and jostling for a position in the circle (all in good fun).

During other classes at Aspire, the Japanese students were able to participate without a lot of talking--pantomiming in drama class, dancing a reverse bunny hop, or sharing music through choir, band, and orchestra. By lunchtime the shyness had worn off and the students crowded together to talk and laugh and just be teenagers.

After Aspire all thirty-three got back together for a trip to Pleasant Glade, a grade school. Four third grade classes were waiting to meet the Japanese students. The Japanese students were eager to share their time and talents with the grade school. They taught the third graders origami, made hats with horns, and wrote the kids' names in Japanese.

Smiles, demonstration, and a helping hand were all the communication necessary. The third graders were impressed. I heard questions like, "How many letters do you have to learn in Japan?" and "I bet you could fold a crane really fast."

At the end of the day the Japanese students had added two schools to their list of friends in the United States.