What My Last, First Book Taught Me Wednesday

with Author Jen White  

 

What my last, first book taught me is that I am really twelve.  

Okay, I’m not.  I’m forty-two, but in my heart I wish to be twelve forever.  At that age, the most scandalous thing I had ever done was to scream/sing the lyrics of  Pink Floyd’s “Another Brick in the Wall,” out of the car window at a group of horrified old ladies walking down the street, as I waited for my mom to finish an errand inside our local bank.

I remember the exhilaration pulsing through my veins as I yelled, “Hey, teacher!  Leave them kids alone!”   

(And, of course, there was glee as I watched them react to my unruliness. They were appropriately appalled.)

That moment sums up how being twelve felt for me.  It felt brave and strong, like the dream where you can fly, mixed in with your birthday every day of the week, and the instant when you finally learn to ride a bike without training wheels.  Twelve was my moment.  It was crazy fun– unfettered by what-ifs, worries, or world induced self-consciousness.

At twelve, I hardly had an idea of what the lyrics from the Pink Floyd song were supposed to mean, but to me they sounded defiant and strong.  I couldn’t possibly imagine how I could ever feel any different than I did at that moment.  Little did I know that adolescence loomed close by, ready to squeeze the life out of me and make me second guess everything I thought I knew about myself.  At twelve I think I was my truest self and I’ve spent the whole of my adulthood trying to reclaim the best of the girl I was then.  

As I now work on my next middle grade novel, I’ve discovered, that this is why I write for a middle grade audience.  Middle grade is en media res. In the middle of the action.  Twelve is the action.  The conflict between being a child and becoming an adult.  With that conflict comes a fierce sense of identity.  At twelve you hope you are on the brink of something wonderful but have no doubt that you can only be excellent at whatever lies ahead.  I miss the surety of my twelve-year-old steps.

While doing research, years ago, for my critical thesis, “Brave New Girl” I read the book Reviving Ophelia: Saving the Selves of Adolescent Girls  by Dr. Mary Pipher.  In it she shows how adolescence tries to kill the girl.   A girl transforms from a vibrant, confident, self-assured person, into a timid, self-conscious, body-conscious, more often than not, depressed human.  Think of, Pipi Longstocking morphing into, Go Ask Alice.   

Pipher says,

” Many young women are less whole and androgynous than they were…. They are more appearance-conscious and sex-conscious.  They are quieter, more fearful of holding strong opinions, more careful about what they say and less honest.  They are more likely to second-guess themselves and to be self-critical.  They are bigger worriers and more effective people pleasers.  They are less likely to play sports, love math and science and plan on being president.  They hide their intelligence.  Many must fight for years to regain all the territory they lost.” (Reviving Ophelia: Saving the Selves of Adolescent Girls.)

In my opinion, age twelve is the sweet spot set at the beginning of our lives.  My dad recently found a photo of me, the summer before my seventh grade school year. I was on a significant family vacation to The Grand Canyon where I was accidentally left at a gas station.  (Incidentally, this experience was the inspiration for my middle grade novel, Survival Strategies of the Almost Brave.)  I hadn’t ever seen this photo until last week, but now, I can’t stop staring at it.  There I am–windblown hair, clear eyes, a scabbed knee– standing with my sisters on the precipice of the highest canyon in the world.  The sky stretched out, like a map, behind us. The crevices and walls below, swept with giant brush strokes of color.  The picture is glorious, if not just because of the feeling it evokes but also for who it reminds me I am. I cherish that picture. I now know that my last book has taught me that if I write only middle grade for the rest of my life, I will be both lucky and brave.

Jen White grew up in California, the oldest of five siblings. In kindergarten, during a parent/teacher conference, her teacher told her mother, “She’s a little bossy.” Unfortunately, Jen thinks that same assessment might still be made today. She blames it on birth order. When she was young she wanted to become an author and a teacher. One of her earliest memories was learning how to read. She remembers how excited she was when she realized she could read the signs she saw through the window when she was in the car with her mother. She also remembers how her stomach hurt when she read out loud because she read with such gusto.

Jen has a degree in English teaching and also earned her MFA from Vermont College of Fine Arts in writing for children and young adults. SURVIVAL STRATEGIES OF THE ALMOST BRAVE is her debut novel and was born from the real experience of Jen being accidentally forgotten at a gas station with her younger sister and cousin. Jen currently tries not to boss around her five children and husband in San Clemente, California.