My Cathedral: Notes from a Bookish Life

I started teaching for the same reasons that someone joins a convent or becomes a priest; to share a transcendent faith.  Not the kind you may be picturing however, for this church is built on how writing transforms the soul.   In the classroom, I open the doors to my cathedral, and we all learn more about why we write, read, and live.  

If you are here, you too know (or have guessed) that writing and reading bring the same meaning and richness that love itself promises.  Maybe you teach and write as well, or are working on one, the other, or both. 

Teaching has turned out to be the perfect complement to my quiet life as an award-winning children’s book writer. Teaching brings the noise of efforts, glee, and good conversation. I work so my students flourish in the same way I write so my characters spring to life.  Both are a process, and I succeed when I don’t focus on results, but on what I love about the doing. 

I can’t force my characters alive, but I can work on them.  I can’t make students become writers, but I can show them how to work towards their unique voices.  The number one thing I teach is how reading teaches you to write.  Almost all of us write because we read.  

In fact, I would argue that we write in order to read. More on that later. 

At various times, I’ve had students who want to be writers, but don’t want to read widely.  It can’t be done.  The romance writer Sarah MacLean clearly has a lot of talent, but the fact that she reads a romance novel a day is why her books so epitomize the best of romance novels. 

When I was struggling to finish my first chapter book (which at the time, I thought was a picture book), my editor at Chronicle sent me books.  Picture books, middle grade books, and more.  Some were literary, some silly.  The point was to let me read myself into knowing how to write my book.   The point was for the books to teach me.

To write, we should read deeply within genre but also outside of it. 

Part of my job is to play matchmaker between my students and the books I think will help them become better writers.  If I can’t reach the reader in my student, I can’t teach, something I learned the hard way. 

Some six years ago, a posh private high school hired me to tutor struggling students.  My focus changed from novels (whose redeeming power I honor) to analytical essays (whose efforts to suck the joy out of reading I do not). 

 My efforts increased tenfold, as did my failure to do what I do best; share my faith in books.  

During my years of working at this school, I wrote my first middle grade novel, which totally changed the kind of writing I did.  I went from being preoccupied with how characters thought to how they felt.  As frustrating as it was to change writing style, it was also exhilarating to try something new.

My unhappy teen students, who were struggling through outlines into clearly argued essays, had plenty of frustration with their writing, but no exhilaration. I could get them to the finish line, but until they fell in love with writing, they’d never enjoy the process.  My best students knew they were being forced to write about things they’d never love (for example, motifs in The Great Gatsby), and my worst ones didn’t care.  

In the end, I quit, packed my bags, and moved to California.  My middle-grade novel was published, and I wrote and sold my first chapter book.  I officially became a woman of a certain age.  I stopped tutoring everything but the college essay because even if students don’t love the process, I make sure they love the story they write about themselves.   

With all the new things I’d done (including aging!), I started to wonder if I could do what I’d advised my unhappy DC students. Could I write what I loved?  And what did that mean if what I loved were romance novels?  

Would I, to steal from T.S. Eliot, dare disturb my universe?  In 2008, well before my DC life, I’d written an historical romance for my then agent, who also represented the great Linda Howard.  Two editors almost bought it and then didn’t.  Everyone else turned it down.  I put it away, unsure of where it fit in my career.  

Now, with 10+ extra years of teaching and writing behind me, I’ve pulled it out, ready to see what life looks like disturbed.  If your Cathedral, like mine, is full of books (maybe even one you’ve written without quite finishing), I hope you’ll join me as I learn – yet again – a new way to write.  Next time, I’ll be posting on why readers, specifically romance readers, write.  

{Photos by Susan Yin, Joanna Kosinka, and me.}