Writing for children (and raising them) makes me think about what I was like as a child. I was quiet and serious. I remembered every detail and felt every hurt deeply. I never felt like I fit in, but remember desperately wishing I could. I, fortunately, have grown to care less and be able to fit it better when I choose to.
I happened to find a few poems and stories that I wrote as a child and hope to be able to dig up a few more next time I’m at my parent’s home. One thing that I learned is that I am very much the same person that I was then.
At the Hong Kong SCBWI pre-Summer party in 2018, we all completed a writing exercise (we know how to party). The writing prompt was “When I was x years old, I remember…” Many of mine read like the start of “issues” books. Though I can’t find my sheet, it’s an exercise that I plan to repeat as I work towards my writing goals for the year.
For now, I need to again immerse myself in my character’s world in 1978, Soviet Union.
Happy new year! Happy writing!