A Position of Trust

Okay people, it’s Friday, and as promised, I intend to tie into Monday and Wednesday’s posts and what broken-hearted children have to do with writing.

Two things, actually.

First, when it comes to writing for or about young adults, moments or situations like the ones I mentioned Monday tend to be crucial turning points in the lives of our youth. And depending on the person, one situation can bring about any number of different outcomes.

It all depends on who that person is, what they stand for, what they want, who supports them, and what they do next.  Situations like this? Birth of all contemporary YA novels.

Yeah. (And you wondered where story ideas come from!)

Okay, second. Real life kids—aka readers—have certain expectations from our content. They expect not only a compelling story with characters they love and an interesting plot, but they expect a realistic and satisfying outcome. They expect our fictional characters to help them figure out what to do in their very real lives, how to act and react. (But if we preach, they’re gone.)

But most importantly, they expect that we—the trusted adult author—will not let them down. That by the time they get to the end of our book, they will have figured out how to conquer high school, relationships, parents, and very possibly, the world.

All in ninety-thousand words or less.  No problem!  (See Wednesday’s post if you need a pep talk.)

Stories like this line bookstore and library shelves, float around in backpacks, purses, and lockers. They walk the streets and head to class and shop at the mall. They’re everywhere.

They’re today’s kids. And they’re nothing less than perfect.

What Becomes of the Broken Hearted?

On Monday, I promised to tell you what kids need to know after a trusted adult breaks their heart and/or spirit.So here it is, the raw truth (for all kids and adults alike):

It does not matter what church you attend, or how often you go. It does not matter what sport you play, your position, your skill level, your choice of uniform colors. It doesn’t even matter if you play a sport at all. Or if you do art, or dance, or music, or writing. It doesn’t matter if your hair is blonde or brown or black or purple or RAINBOW striped, any more than the color of your skin matters. It doesn’t matter where you live, how large your house, the kind of car your parents drive or if you walk everywhere.  

None of these things have anything to do with your value as a very important human being.

You have a purpose, and it is not to be what everyone else in the world thinks you should be, but rather to be YOU. The best you possible. There is always room for improvement. Because no one is, or will ever be perfect. But YOU ARE GOOD ENOUGH.

That person who let you down? Obviously, they’re not perfect either. And it’s not up to you to make them see the error of their ways (though, your parents might if ever given the chance). No. Your job is to NEVER listen to the voice they’ve installed in your head that makes you look at the ground instead of straight ahead, that makes you back away from a challenge instead of meeting it head on, that makes you feel the need to apologize for NOTHING.

You are good enough. You have the potential to climb mountains, swim oceans, jump chasms, and visit outer space if that’s what you want to do. What you do with your life is not up to them. It’s up to you. And you have the ability to do it, if only you will conquer your fears and try.

And you know what? You may not be perfect, but your hopes, your dreams? They are. And you have every right, every ability, to reach for them.

Never, ever let anyone—no matter who they are—tell you, or make you feel otherwise.

Okay kids, thanks for listening. I’ll jump off my soap box now. Good afternoon, good evening, and goodnight.

*Yep, still working toward what all this has to do with writing. Friday, peeps. Friday. 

Heart Breakers

I’ve decided that every kid is destined to have their heart broken by an adult at least once before they grow up. I’m not talking about, you know, being told they have to clean their rooms, or even feeling lied to about the possible existence of a certain white-haired-jolly man who wears a red suit.

No, I’m talking about kids trusting certain adults in their lives—be they teachers, scout leaders, clergy, sports coaches, whoever—who make promises or give expectations, but do not follow through. Who humiliate or hurt for reasons that kid will never understand. Every one of my kids has experienced this, and I’m telling you now, it’s a keen kind of let down, a heartache that you would never expect possible.

How does this happen?

I don’t know. Maybe sometimes it’s accidental. Those times don’t seem to hurt quite as bad as the ones that are on purpose. And believe me, it hurts the parents as much as the child. (Sometimes, that might be the point, which makes it even worse.)

But it must be necessary to the growth of the child, their personal journey. It must. How else would any adult justify making a kid feel like they’re worthless? Like their best isn’t good enough? Like they’re less important, less liked than their peers?

They don’t. There is no justification. NONE.  

But it happens just the same. So what do we do about it? We get out the voodoo dolls, buy the kid prizes, love them through it.

Also, we have a very important chat, which I will discuss on Wednesday, because otherwise this post will be holy-wow-long. In the meantime, I’d like to know. Have you experienced this yourself or with your kids? And how did you handle it?

*In case you're wondering, this discussion will tie into writing, but not until Friday. Keep reading!