Children Are Better Seen and Heard (Take Good Notes)
By Guest | May 24, 2011 |
Therese here. Today’s guest is author Meg Mitchell Moore, whose debut novel, The Arrivals, releases tomorrow! What’s the book about?
It’s early summer when Ginny and William’s peaceful life in Vermont comes to an abrupt halt. First, their daughter Lillian arrives, with her two children in tow, to escape her crumbling marriage. Next, their son Stephen and his pregnant wife Jane show up for a weekend visit, which extends indefinitely when Jane ends up on bed rest. When their youngest daughter Rachel appears, fleeing her difficult life in New York, Ginny and William find themselves consumed again by the chaos of parenthood – only this time around, their children are facing adult problems.
Said Publishers Weekly:
Moore finds a crisp narrative in the morass of an overpacked household, and she keeps the proceedings moving with an assurance and outlook reminiscent of Laurie Colwin, evoking emotional universals with the simplest of observations, as in “the peace you feel when you are awake in a house where children are sleeping.
I’m thrilled Meg is here today to discuss something we don’t discuss here very often: capturing the voice of a child in adult fiction. Enjoy!
Children Are Better Seen and Heard (Take Good Notes)
In 2010, at the fabulous Muse & the Marketplace conference put on by Grub St., a Boston-based nonprofit writing center, I attended a workshop led by Lauren Grodstein. The workshop was called “Writing the Child” and in it Grodstein, author of A Friend of the Family, talked about the challenges of creating a child’s voice on the page.
This all struck a particular chord with me because my debut novel, The Arrivals, has one character who is a three-year-old girl. The novel isn’t about this girl, whose name is Olivia: it’s much more about her parents, her grandparents, her aunt and uncle and how they coexist, both peacefully and not, over the course of one long summer in a very crowded house in Vermont. But for all that to ring true to the reader this little girl had to ring true too.
Luckily for me I have three young daughters. One advantage of this from a writer’s standpoint is that they talk a lot. (A disadvantage from a general peace-of-mind standpoint: They talk. A lot. They talk all the time, over each other, under each other, in the bathtub, at the bus stop, in the car: all the time.)
One thing Grodstein addressed in her session was the importance of listening to children—really listening, so that you can capture the cadences of their speech, their subject matter, their verbal tics and quirks. I don’t remember everything Grodstein said, but one example that sticks in my mind is that most children do not say “pisgetti,” though that has somehow become the default mechanism for portraying a child’s speech. Similarly, not all children lisp or turn a “th” sound to an “f.” Some do, of course, but not all, and when you reach beyond the clichés of children’s speech you tend to do more for the reader.
In my everyday life, I do a lot of listening. I do the usual listening that all parents do (who wants what for lunch, who needs what in her backpack, who has a playdate or a birthday party or a skinned knee). But I also listen to my children as a writer. What do they worry about? What makes them laugh, really laugh, in that delightful, surprising, deep-belly way? Does my youngest, who recently turned four, speak in full sentences all the time or occasionally in fragments? How do they respond to questions from an adult? Older children? Younger children? The non sequiters my children produce can be maddening when I’m trying to find a lost mitten or get to the school bus on time but pure gold when I sit down at my computer. All of this chatter is fodder for writers who are also parents. Fair game; call it repayment for mountains of diapers changed and predawn hours spent banishing nightmares.
Which is not to say that I based Olivia on any of my children. But, sure, I borrowed here and there. The way she sucks her thumb. The way she trades in a plum she’s just been given for a better model because the sticker has caused a piece of skin to peel off (“This one’s broken,” she says). The astonishing speed with which she picks up new, maybe inappropriate words in grownup conversation and inquires after their meaning.
When I began writing The Arrivals, about three years ago, my middle daughter was the age of the fictional Olivia. Then, as I completed the book, found an agent, went through editing, sold the book, went through more editing, my children were growing (they tend to do that). The youngest stealthily became the fictional Olivia’s age, and has recently surpassed it. That’s been a funny thing to witness because my baby has unwittingly grown into some of the Olivia-isms I gave to the character; without knowing it she has Olivia-ed herself.
Childless? Fear not! You can write child characters without ever having to put a single dollar in a 529 plan. All you need is a pair of working ears, maybe a notebook. Kids are everywhere. There’s nowhere better than the aisles of a grocery store, when parents and children are at their most vulnerable, with their anxieties and their stressors most nakedly on display, to observe. There’s always, always a five-year-old boy with his eye on a particular kind of cereal. How does he ask for it? What happens if he gets his way? More important, what happens if he doesn’t? There’s always a burgeoning walker trying to climb out of the cart, a sullen adolescent texting, an infant crying for his next meal. Same with Starbucks, the mall, the park: anywhere where people gather there are children. Sidle up (not in a creepy way, please). Listen. Take notes.
How about you? How do you write child characters?
Thanks for a great post, Meg. Readers, you can learn more about Meg and The Arrivals on her website, and follow her on Facebook and Twitter. Write on!
Photo courtesy Flickr’s woodleywonderworks
Many thanks to today’s guest.
You can read more WU guest posts by visiting this link.
Great post, and I love that you’re paying so much attention to a non-major character. It reminds me to sharpen the details around my minor characters, too. And yes, I’ve got some children in my story, so I’ll be taking a close look at what they say, how they say it, and what they do. Thank you!
What a great post, Meg! I have two little ones myself (4 and 20 mos.) and nothing but nothing irritates me more in a book than what I call Utterly Unrealistic Child Syndrome. The child characters who are just too precious and sweet for words one hundred percent of the time, who might as well have ‘plot device’ stamped across their little foreheads . . .I remember reading one book about a little 3 year old girl who was abducted, rescued by complete strangers, in an airplane crash, among other various horrible things in the course of a brief 48 hour period–and within 20 minutes of the plane crash she was happily playing tea-party with one of the nice complete strangers who had rescued her. Now, my older girl happened to be exactly that age at the time I read the book–and don’t get me wrong, my oldest is a very, very sweet little girl herself and very even-keeled, too–but still I remember going, No . . . just . . . no!
I am so happy that I took lots of notes with my kids when they were little. I don’t like it in books when kids come across sounding unlike real kids; yet, it’s so hard as an adult to get back in touch with the inner child, teen or even young adult voice. It’s one of the reasons, I am such a snoop in all public places….gathering voice and other information! I look forward to reading your book, sounds very interesting!
I’ve only recently started writing children into my stories and I try to do with them what I notice in my own children: kids think they are the center of the world. They mostly don’t care that much about your adult life. There are exceptions, like when they use a word or concept you didn’t think they heard you use, or when they ask a question or make an observation that surprises you. But they key is that it is surprising, not par for the course. I’m still training my 10- and 12-year-olds not to interrupt me when I’m talking with another adult and most of what they want to interrupt me can wait although it’s oh so urgent to them.
Non-sequitors are a key to making children in fiction sound real — all those times when the adult is talking away and then the kid asks some question out of the blue, or launches into a story that means everything to them but doesn’t give any context, just takes you along on their mental journey.
Not to mention how quickly the aggrieved tone comes on, because adults are constantly thwarting them.
I like sporting events for overhearing kids, too, because they’re often in a little pack down the row from their parents. I’m always amazed at how much romance talk there is.
Thanks for bringing up this topic.
Definitely a great post! A few of my brewing story ideas feature critical child characters, and this is something I struggle with a little as I’m usually surrounded by adults, pre-teens and teens. Thanks!
What a great post! Too often you start talking about kids and you can watch adults’ eyes glaze over . . .
I have four children and I’m listening now, as I write, to my 7 year old narrate a plot/game with his friend: “How about one of the knights used to be a doctor but he isn’t very good at it . . ” “No! One knight was the doctor’s assistant”. “Ah, and he fixes the king up in about 100 days.” Priceless.
I love your example. I always think listening to my kids play is more entertaining than most TV shows.
Thanks for the thoughts on kids in lit, Meg!
LOVE this post. I’m also a huge fan of child (especially teenage) narrators in adult fiction. At the end of 2010, I got an agent for my novel (narrated by an “almost fourteen year old”) and it will be pitched to publishers as adult fiction. I also, however, had many an agent tell me that “adults don’t want to read books narrated by kids.” I’m so happy my agent disagrees! Can’t wait to take a look at your novel . . . HUGE congrats to you. :)
Thanks so much for all of the comments, everyone. Glad to hear other parent/writers enjoy the eavesdropping part of the job. And Natalie I feel better now that my kids constantly interrupt me when I’m talking to another adult!
Ha! As a non-parent, you may have an even better shot at hearing the truth of a child’s tone, because as many parents know, sometimes ya hear what you want to hear, not what you are hearing.
Good article.
Hi Meg,
I love the point you make about moving away from kid-cliche-speak. In my novel I have a 10 year old, who one early reader said didn’t talk like a kid. When I pressed, she said, “She sounds too smart.” Gah! Since when are we put off by a smart kid? I, for one, am glad they’re out there (even if they are repulsed by damaged fruit). ; )
Congratulations on your debut release! I wish you a wildly successful run!
Can’t wait to read the book, Meg!
In my first book I had a little boy and although I have two children I actually was writing the child as almost “too sweet” to be believed, according to my mentor/editor. But, in reality, I was relying on my memories of my own son and I wasn’t that far off. It’s very difficult to incorporate children into a novel without some “cliche'” behavior which often isn’t cliche’ at all, but rather true according to the way some children act. I had to go back and make the little guy more bratty so that he didn’t metamorphose into an angel. And, believe me, now that my son is a teenager, he is NO angel!
Patti
Great post. I’m a playwright and teach playwriting. The first assignment I give is to go out and eavesdrop. It’s so important to tune up our ears and find out how children and adults actually speak. I think that for playwrights how you hear is how you write. Do you think this is also true for novelists?
Thanks for this post! I have been reluctantly considering cutting two child characters in my adult novel and you have helped me make up my mind to keep them. You said “for all that to ring true to the reader this little girl had to ring true too.” My novel is also about the grandparents and parents, but the scenes with the children help make the world more realistic.
Great comments everyone, thank you. Laura, I think that’s an interesting assignment: eavesdropping for playwrights. Obviously a playwright really has to nail the dialogue to capture the audience. I bet if novelists tried to think more like playwrights we’d become even better listeners. I bet your background has served you well in novel writing.
Great article! I have a 2 & 1/2 year old and a 1 year old…and you’re right…they are ALWAYS talking. Always.
I really have to practice my listening as a writer skill. I’ve always considered myself an observant person, but as I noticed in my writing, those little nuances that make up the true character are often overlooked. Even your post brings out the smallest little details that bring children to light.
Thank you very much for this. And your novel sounds like a very interesting read. I can’t wait to get my hands (and eyes) on it!