It is an honor to close out Mentor week here on YA Muses. It’s been informative, inspiring, and well-written.

As a survivor…I mean, graduate…of the Nevada SCBWI Mentorship Program this last spring, the words mentor and mentee have crossed on my lips a lot over the year (am I right, Muses?). So in prepping for this post, I had a lot of flashbacks. The moments of terror pressing send to my mentor (hi, Susan). The deep, dark points where I had no idea how to address tough feedback. The elation of encouragement on the polished product. However, one memory sticks more than the others.

They hold the Program’s final retreat at an old haunted hospital in Virginia City, Nevada (yes, it’s both as creepy and fun as it sounds – some folks dare to spend the night). That first night, Susan and I sat down in a drafty hallway to go over some final points before the presentation to the big-time editor the next morning. In the conversation, she mentioned that I was ‘a mentor’s dream.’ It was a side-comment, but it floored me. Hands down, this one of the biggest compliments I’ve ever received – a nugget I’ll hold close for a long time.

Why did it hit me so hard?

I think it boils down to being a mentee is hard, hard work. This comment wasn’t just about my writing, but a compliment on my mindset. So for this post, I’d like to share a some leanings about being a mentee.

· Ask yourself (over and over) do you really want a mentor? No, really, ask yourself.

Originally, I had visions of my mentor reading my 1^st draft and calling her industry contacts to let them in on the next great manuscript. When the actual feedback came…well, we had lots of discussion and none of it revolved around my impeding bestseller-ness. Susan was very nice, but it was shocking, discouraging, and energizing all at the same time.

My lesson here was that mentors CAN be cheerleaders, but they are more than that too. They’re there to slap you on the back at the appropriate times, but also to smack you back in line. They are there to push you into uncomfortable places. They are there to stretch you. Most of the time, these things sting. Be ready. Be willing. But be honest with yourself.

· Hold *almost* nothing sacred

Leading into the program, I had a core concept for my Mentorship Program manuscript, a.k.a. the idea that I had to write. After that 1^st tough meeting with Susan, I took a new approach to my craft: Experiment like a googly-eyed, mad scientist. I changed tenses, slashed scenes, created new characters, and alternated POVs. Some of it worked better than others, but all of it made me a better writer. However, throughout the process, I kept the core concept as an anchor.

So figure out what you value (go ahead, I’ll wait… kidding, obviously, this takes time). But once you’ve got that, protect it. Now, wave happily as the rest goes off to the butcher shop.

· It’s YOUR manuscript, not theirs

When I first started working with Susan, I wanted someone to pinpoint exactly what was right/wrong with my work. Then how to fix it. However, I quickly started to realize my mentor’s job was not to write the dang manuscript for me. She wanted to help and would whenever I needed it, but when I was sitting at my computer, my choices were the ones that counted.

So I learned to listen to her feedback on the issues, but often figured my own solutions to them. True, if I blindly did what she said, then my manuscript would’ve improved, but not me.

· Get ready for a thrill ride

Emotionally and mentally, being a mentee is difficult – but it’s also excellent practice for this industry (okay, for life). It’s riddled with highs, lows, self-doubt, self-congratulation, and everything else publishing (life) comes packaged with. I learned to hold strong through the stinky days and appreciate the happy ones. I’m lucky to have an amazing support network (hi, dear Wife and Muses) and I leaned accordingly.

I made it out of the haunted hospital and the Mentorship alive. I got some nice remarks from the editor and my manuscript reads light-years better than that first draft. But the work is far from done, because I know being a mentee is never finished. These lessons are my foundation for upping my game with every critique and editorial letter to come. And they’re the most valuable thing I’ll take away from my Mentorship Program experience.

Though the one a.m. trip to the creepy graveyard was way cool.

If you want to learn more about the amazing Nevada SCBWI program, check out their website (http://nevadascbwi.org/Mentor.html for the 2010/11 program details - I believe the next session details will be up soon).

We've been talking about writing mentors this week. Two people immediately come to mind. Eric Elfman and Lorin Oberweger, my writing Jedi masters, both of whom mean a great deal to me.

I met Eric Elfman at a writing conference nearly eight years ago. He was leading a small critique group. It was the first one I had ever been in. Eric immediately put me at ease. We spoke several times over the course of the weekend workshop. I was taken by his sense of humor, warmth, and editorial insight. When we exchanged email addresses that last Sunday, I knew I'd see him again.

In the years since, Eric has become a mentor and a dear friend. I treasure his creative mind and his keen grasp on story structure. More so, I appreciate that he tells me the truth about my writing and he does it with his signature brand of wit and respect.

I met Lorin more recently, only three years ago. She critiqued an excerpt of the manuscript I was working on at the time. The pages I had submitted to her for the critique had been heavily work-shopped. They were lean, solid pages that had earned me some agent interest, and given me ideal results in writing contests. I was proud of them.

Those pages came back to me from Lorin so marked up, I initially didn't believe they were mine. Then I read her notes and--there is no better analogy--I fell in love. I'd found someone who could push me well past the boundaries of what I could do at the time. With Lorin, I'm certain that'll always be the case. I'll always be learning from her. She's just really, really excellent with both craft and story. Her personality--generous, sweet, and yes, funny--sealed the deal.

It occurs to me that best kind of mentorship feels more like a partnership with really kick butt people who are a lot smarter that you. Do you have anyone like this who you can learn from? If you are serious about your writing, I highly recommend being on the lookout for your own Jedi Masters.

Now, go! And may the writing force be with you!

I've been fortunate to have some amazing mentors in my life.  People who support, encourage and have a lot to teach me about life, business and professionalism.

You can learn a lot by surrounding yourself with people you admire.  People who have experience to share or people whose greatest talents are being encouraging and supportive.  Maybe your mentor is a person you've known for a long time.  Maybe it's someone you've never met, but who offered just the right advice at the right time. 

Since we're celebrating mentors this week, I'd thought I would share with you some of the things I've learned from some wonderful professionals who took time to help me on my journey to publication.

From the first publishing professional to read my work:  Keep at it.  Publishing is not a pipe dream.  Books sell every day.  Finish the book.  Revise it.  Keep trying.

From the first agent to request my work:  Use internal reactions to up the tension in first person narration.  Now take out three stage directions (i.e. smiles, nods, foot tapping) and add one more internal reaction.  (Try this- and watch your manuscript come alive!).

From an agent who ultimately passed:  a novel needs more than a series of great scenes.  There must be a payoff in the final scenes.  Make sure your climax involves your central characters and central conflict.  (In retrospect this seems obvious, but trust me when I say I needed to hear this).

From the agent who is now my agent:  Telling can be good when it draws us into the narrator's head and helps us experience the emotions and reactions as they happen. (Yes, I'm still working on the internal reaction bit!).

From one of my lovely editors:  Simplify story elements where you can.  An action packed plot might be entertaining, but its the emotional truths that stay with readers.

From an author I "know" through Twitter:  be kind, friendly and approachable.  It means a lot.

From a fellow Muse:  Let your unique voice come through in your writing.  Incorporate personal experiences and funny anecdotes. Let the occasional goat puppy come out in your writing.  Stay positive.  The pay off will come.

From another Muse: Pay attention to details.  Get your facts straight and lend credence to everything you write.  It's worth the time to make your story authentic.  It's worth the time to find just the right word.  Readers will appreciate it even if they have to crack open a dictionary now and then.

From yet another Muse:  Be fearless even when you're afraid.  Write the book of your heart and then let it go.  Then write the next one.  Take risks.  Write from a boy POV.  Find the joy in the work even when the work is hard.

From another YA Muse:  Be disciplined.  Wake up two hours early every day and WRITE.  Embrace the process.  Feed your addiction.  Write something no one's ever seen before and own it.  Find humor in all of it.

One of the wonderful things about publishing for children is how supportive and approachable the community is as a whole.  Mentors are everywhere.  Seek them out.

Then soak it all in.  It's all a work in progress. 

Mentors.  People who have affected our lives.  Our work.  The way we operate and look at the world.  I find them everywhere.  In the books that I read (Ann Lamott, John Green, Jennifer Donnelly) the conferences we attend (Kirby Larson, Sydney Salter, Sara Pennypacker), and our everyday lives (I would love to be as kind and generous as my friend Brenda, as scientifically brilliant as my friend Eva, as kid-savvy and expertly communicative as my kids’ teacher, Wendy).

And then there are the people who really take the time and the effort – paid or unpaid – to help us on our path.  To focus our attention and talents.  To be more than we think we can be.

I’ve already blogged about Susan Hart Lindquist, who taught me structure, character arc, and AIR in the SCBWI Nevada Mentorship Program.  I just have to mention her again, here, because my book wouldn’t be what it is today without the experience and knowledge I gained under her tutelage.

But I’d also like to mention another writing teacher.  One who possibly never knew how much he meant to me. 

I created my own major in college.  I knew I wanted to be a travel writer, so I cobbled together a collection of sociology, geography, anthropology and journalism courses into a BA in Cross Cultural Studies and Communications.

And my best teacher taught me Journalism 101.  And served as faculty advisor to the university newspaper, The Lumberjack.

 

Howard Seemann walked into class on the first day and wrote his name on the board. 

“Seemann,” he said. “S-E-E-M-A-N-N.  Not Seaman.  Not Siemen.  Definitely not Semen.  Get it right or you’ll fail my class.”

Howard Seemann taught me how to get my facts straight.  He taught me that names are important, and the spelling of them equally so.  He taught me how to write a good lead sentence, how to cover the most compelling elements in a story in the first three paragraphs, how to write clear details and powerful description.

He didn’t mince words in editorial meetings.  He didn’t pull any punches.

“What the hell is a local transient?” he bellowed at the beginning of one meeting. “The very meaning of the word transient indicates impermanence.  Not local!”

The poor author of the article cringed and explained that he’d been writing about a homeless man well-known in Arcata.

“No excuse for sloppy word choice,” Howard barked.  But winked, too. 

After I left Humboldt I traveled the world, and attempted to break into freelance journalism (the high point of which was a 200-word filler article in Conde Nast Traveler magazine with no by-line and no credit, but a check imbalancedly heavy for so few words).  The years passed and I quit my nomadic lifestyle, married and had kids in England.  Howard continued to ask my parents about me.

See, Howard used to play poker with my dad, a geology professor at Humboldt State.  They knew each other socially but didn’t run in the same social circles.  But in Arcata and at Humboldt, you run into people all the time.

“How’s Katy?” Howard would ask my dad up on campus.  Or my mom at the Farmer’s Market. “Is she still writing?”

And every time, he would reiterate to them that he thought I had talent.  That he asked because he thought I should be writing.  Non-fiction.  Fiction.  Anything.

I carried his praise with me everywhere I went.  Howard didn’t give it lightly.  But he gave it justly.  I respected his opinion and felt eternal gratitude for his high opinion of me.  I strive to write well and accurately because of him.  I always check my spellings of people’s names.  And I try my best to avoid sloppy word choices.

Howard died a few years ago, from a heart attack.  This is what was said in his obituary in the Times-Standard:

Howard was a Humphrey Democrat, a defender of the First Amendment and an old-school newspaperman. He held his students to exacting standards on grammar, punctuation and spelling and was notorious for his hard line on factual errors. His tough love was intended to prepare students for the world outside the classroom and challenge them to discover their full potential. He always tried to balance criticism with encouragement in Howard’s Homilies, his weekly critique of The Lumberjack. Students prized his hard-earned words of praise, and he was proud of them, many of whom went on to thrive in the newsroom.

I never took the opportunity to call him, or even e-mail, to let him know what he meant to me, to my writing, to my career.  I wish I had. 

Who are your mentors?  Have you let them know?  

Not long after I moved to Colorado, I hiked my first "fourteener," a 14,000 foot mountain. Well, the truth is, I hiked my first AND LAST fourteener. I haven't done it again. (That's me at the top proudly holding up a piece of notebook paper that says, "Mount Quandry 14,028.") My hiking companion was in much better shape than I, and could easily have summited long before me. For the last quarter mile, straight up through the rocks and shale, he pretty much pushed me up that peak. He wasn't about to let me stop so close to the top. It was his idea to go on this trip, he was sure I could do it. I didn't share his confidence. But when that final step over the last piece of rock came, and I was there at the summit, he got out of the way. It was just me. On top of the world. I did it.

In my mind, finding the right writing mentor is very similar. Shirley Peddy, Ph.D. author of "The Art of Mentoring," suggests three steps a mentor should do to help the mentee: they should lead, follow and get out of the way. I suppose it's possible to find one person to accomplish all this, maybe a Super Mentor, but I have been more successful at finding different people to specialize in these roles.

The Mentor who LEADS- This person believes you can do things that seem almost impossible to you at this point in your writing career. I've been lucky to have incredible teachers and successful authors who led me in my writing journey to places I never dreamed I would go. Usually, they are way out ahead, in much "better shape," but they have a vision of what's ahead, based on their experiences and expertise, I can't yet see.

The Mentor who FOLLOWS-. This mentor is pushy. I think of her like a writing personal trainer. She encourages, challenges, and doesn't take no for an answer. This mentor helps you do it on your own, but with a very "hands-on" approach. A good friend, who serves in this role, was constantly asking me, in almost weekly phone conversations, "Why aren't you writing? You can't just QUIT." It worked. Maybe I respond well to guilt, but, hey, whatever works, right?

The Mentor who GETS OUT OF THE WAY- This person, when asked, gives focused advice and counsel. He is, of course, knowledgable and experienced, and is an important resource when you need specific information or assistance. This mentoring relationship is one that encourages independence because, after all, we ultimately have to accomplish our own writing goals. No matter how fantastic the mentor, no one can do it for you.

I would add one more.

The Mentor who THROWS A LINE OUT BEHIND TO PULL SOMEONE UP-Maybe this mentor is you. Children's writers are a giving, caring group. I have experienced wonderful kindnesses from mentors in all of the above roles. With it, however, comes the responsibility to share. To pass it on. Sometimes it feels a bit awkward for a newcomer to ask for mentoring. It feels like when you sent that note in second grade that read, "Do you want to be my friend? Circle yes or no." For this reason, I encourage you to look for those who might need YOU to lead, push, or get out of the way. As a teacher, I know you learn something even better after you teach it. So while mentoring is certainly a way to give back to others in the journey, it's also a fantastic learning experience.

Climbing a mountain is hard.

Writing a book is even harder.

Don't do it alone.