You are currently browsing the monthly archive for February 2025.
So as typically happens this time of year, I’ve been sick. So I’m just going to chalk February up to a loss and get to your Storystorm prizes in March. I am still recruiting agents for your Storystorm Grand Prizes, where you’ll receive feedback on your 5 best story ideas, to help you determine which to pursue as manuscripts and submissions.
Speaking of submissions, I am sharing a Flash Fiction story I wrote during the pandemic that I cannot seem to place anywhere, so I am publishing it here instead. This is an original story and I hope you enjoy! (Be forewarned, it’s for adults, not kiddos.)
The Neighbors
©2020-2025 by Tara Lazar
We were forced to write the neighbors about the beast.
Louise and I had promised it refuge in our basement in exchange for sparing our family. It assured us that if we kept supplying it with deer and possum, it would remain sated. There would be no need to torment the town. However, it has spent the last week digging passageways to the other homes.
Our son warned us that a beast cannot be believed, and we should have listened. But you don’t heed the kid with straight-Ds who wears t-shirts emblazoned with “Whoof Arted”. Meanwhile, our daughter, the good child, was devoured a month ago. Once again, our fault for the misplaced trust.
“What shall the letter say?” my wife asked.
“How about this,” I replied, pen in hand. “Dear neighbors, it has come to our attention that—”
“No, no, you can’t begin that way. They’ll think we’re telling them to power wash their vinyl siding again. They won’t read past the first line.”
“Then it’s really their fault if they can’t read a simple letter,” I said.
“Use powerful language, Chester. Write it like your clean-up-after-your-pet notice.”
“I won’t swear again, Louise.”
“Of course not, dear. Just be direct. Like your lawn-mowing letter.”
“I’ve got it,” I said, clearing my throat. “Dear neighbors, a beast has infiltrated our neighborhood.”
“Oh, excellent, darling. But shouldn’t you make it clear that you don’t mean Mrs. Stubbs?”
“Good point. Dear neighbors, an inhuman beast has infiltrated our neighborhood.”
“Wonderful! That’s a fine start,” Louise said. “Shall I make us some tea?”
“Spot on. Writing makes me thirsty.”
We composed a letter both urgent and actionable, without being too alarming. We agreed that Mr. Rasmussen, our eldest neighbor, was too fragile to read such a missive, given that his wife had recently passed, so we invited him to dinner instead. We could deliver the news with hearty helpings of Louise’s pot roast and Dutch apple pie, softening the blow.
*****
“We’ve been meaning to have you over for a while,” Louise said, leading Mr. Rasmussen to the dining room. “We were sorry to hear about Mrs. Rasmussen. What a special soul, volunteering at the hospital all those years.”
“Much obliged, Mr. and Mrs. Smythe. Awful kind of you.”
“Please, call us Chester and Louise. And you remember our son, Devin.”
“Goodness gracious. He’s sure grown! Bigger than his father now.”
An intense growl emerged from deep beneath the house, rumbling through the floor in magnificent waves. We held our collective breath, waiting for Mr. Rasmussen’s reaction. He just blinked and asked to use the restroom.
“Do you think he’s going deaf?” Louise asked. “Does he have nerve damage in his feet?”
“I don’t think he’s diabetic,” I replied.
“Well, if he heard or felt that, he didn’t flinch!”
“Good. Maybe this won’t be so difficult after all.”
We worked through the meal with light conversation and waited until we were warm and satisfied to broach the subject. Some things are better discussed on a full stomach.
*****
“I don’t believe you,” Mr. Rasmussen replied.
“I know this is a shock, but it’s living in our basement and it has carved underground routes to every house on King Drive,” I said. “It will pluck you one-by-one from your beds and devour you complete.”
Mr. Rasmussen crossed his arms. “How come you haven’t been devoured?”
“It got to Penelope, the poor dear.” Louise dabbed a napkin under her eye.
“I see,” said Mr. Rasmussen, leaning back. “I still don’t believe you.”
“My God, man! This is no time to be a contrarian!”
“Chester,” Louise said, placing a hand upon my forearm, “we said we were going to be calm and gentle with our guest.”
“Right. My apologies,” I said in a soft tone. “Please understand. This beast is a serious threat.”
“Let’s go see it, then,” said Mr. Rasmussen.
“Pardon me?”
“You’ve got a beast in your basement. Let’s take a look.” He pushed his chair back and stood up.
“I don’t think you comprehend the gravity of this. Going down there is dangerous. I wouldn’t advise it.”
“Hell, I’ve got a lawyer. He advises me, not you.” Mr. Rasmussen started toward the cellar door. “Let me see this thing. I’ll decide for myself if we should run for the hills.”
I blocked his path. “Mr. Rasmussen, I strongly urge you not to open that door.”
He reached for the doorknob and I reacted on a primal level, pushing both hands against his chest, sending him flying backward.
“Chester!” Louise screamed.
Mr. Rasmussen landed with a thwack, slamming his head against the tile floor.
The clamor of the disturbed beast rattled beneath us and the floor seemed to breathe.
The beast galloped up the stairs, thrashing against the walls, snarling and spitting, emitting a brutal heat. Twisting and heaving, it screeched with a sickening sharp note that sounded as if all eternity’s nightmares had joined forces. Then in a flash it dissolved into a tar-like puddle of infinite depth. The liquid bubbled and boiled and from within its abyss emerged a plump, grandmotherly figure with yellow-white hair.
“Mrs. Rasmussen?!”
“You remember my wife, Gertie,” Mr. Rasmussen said, rising, his bashed-in head dripping blood. “Surprising, given you never had us over for supper.”
“Oh, Gerald,” Mrs. Rasmussen slapped at her husband playfully. “Be nice. The Smythes were kind enough to let me stay in their roomy basement.”
“I hope they kept you comfortable, sweetheart.”
“Yes, quite! But I must apologize for the teenage girl. I’m afraid I got carried away that day.”
Mr. Rasmussen proffered his arm and the elderly couple strolled across the living room to the front door, trailing tar and blood.
“Now then,” he said, turning to us, “maybe next time you’ll think twice before sending us another rude letter. We’ll power wash when we damn want to power wash and not a moment sooner.”
The End
©2020-2025 by Tara Lazar
by Heidi EY Stemple
My new book begins, The night before play rehearsals began, Janie couldn’t sleep.
It is now just days before my new book comes out, and like Janie, I can’t sleep. Not because I am nervous. Like Janie before the play, I can’t sleep because I am excited! I know. I know. I am not supposed to pick a favorite book. This one is, in fact, my 42nd published book. But, the subject of this book does mean it is just a little more special than the others. But, don’t tell them. I don’t want their feelings hurt! Little Janie grew up to be Jane Yolen—my mom, author of close to 450 books, mostly for children, including the Caldecott winning OWL MOON and the NYT best-selling HOW DO DINOSAURS series. It’s her origin story. It’s about her first big success as a writer. And it’s as true as anyone could write a story about someone who tells stories for a living. So, while I filled in some fuzzy details to make a book, it all hangs on the armature of the stories she has been telling me for years.
While it is clear now that my mom was always going to become a writer, there are many things that happened in her past that helped make that eventuality a reality. Firstly, her parents allowed her free access to all the books in the house. She read widely, even stuff she was too young to understand. She always credits this literary freedom as the beginning of her love of stories—especially fairy tales, adventure stories, anything Arthurian, and Alice In Wonderland. This free access to books also, she says, broadened her vocabulary and made her reach for new and interesting words and language at a very young age.
Another aspect of her early childhood as a writer that was important to add into the story was her teacher, Mrs. Jiler. “She was one of the very best teachers I ever had. She was wonderful. I don’t even think she knew how wonderful she was.” When I asked what made her the best, my mom didn’t hesitate. “She listened to the children. She encouraged us to be smarter and better. I think that how I teach writing now has a lot to do with how Mrs. Jiler ran her classroom. Everyone had a chance to do their very best—to do something great.”
And, wow, did she do something great.
What’s it feel like, trying to honor the woman who is considered America’s Hans Christian Andersen (“Hans Jewish Andersen,” she corrects) with a picture book about her? Daunting. But, it helps that she likes it. In fact, I first read the manuscript to her when she was recovering from surgery. I hadn’t told her I was working on it, so it was a complete surprise. After a page or two, she smiled and said “I’m little Janie!” When I finished, we talked about the details that I had fleshed out from pure imagination. She told me about Mrs. Jiler and more about her neighborhood. She confirmed things and recited all the names of her classmates, some of whom made it into the book. I removed the stuff I made up and added in real facts.
I presented the manuscript to editor Yolanda Scott at Charlesbridge. She seemed to like the idea when I handed it to her (yes—a physical manuscript!) but, recently I asked her what she really thought. I’m not sure I was prepared for her answer! “I thought—oh no—a family anecdote. What are the chances it’s a picture book?” Thankfully, Yo didn’t stop there. “My second thought once I read it: Wow—a family anecdote that makes for a great picture book story about becoming a writer! Written by one accomplished writer in tribute of her accomplished writer-mom! The marketing campaign wrote itself for this one.” This is exactly why I chose Yo as my one and only submission.
On to the revision… The hardest part of writing this book was the revision. My mom has been making me revise my work since I was in elementary school. I am, to be sure, an experienced revisor (revisionist?). I consider it my superpower and lecture on the process. But, in this book, I got stuck. I tried. I worked with Yolanda’s astute notes. I struggled. I made changes. I kicked the wall. I cried. I talked to my friends and critique partners. Then, I did the smart thing—I talked to my mom. I said, “I can’t do it. I don’t think Yo likes the book. I think she is sorry she bought it. She wants an entirely different book.” And my mom said—wise woman that she is—“talk to Yo.”
I emailed Yo and said “I don’t think you like this book. I think you wish you didn’t buy this book.” She called me within 10 minutes. Yo is wise, too. She said to me, “Heidi, this is revision. It’s supposed to be hard. But, this is a book about someone you love, so it’s even harder. I love this book and readers will love this book. You’ll get it.” I love surrounding myself with smart women. After that, I did get it.
When Madelyn Goodnight agreed to illustrate the book, I sent her pictures of my mom and of New York City in the 1940s. I even found a picture of the building my mom lived in. We counted the windows. Yo said of choosing Madelyn as the artist, “Maddie’s art is stunning and we loved her work in Traci Sorell’s Powwow Day. She’s lovely to work with, and I had a feeling she’d bring the historical backdrop of Manhattan in the 1940s to life in way that would engage today’s readers. Maddie is a member of the Chickasaw Nation, and as a publisher I’m committed to bringing Native voices to market, not only for books with Native content. I’m so pleased with the visual look of the book and can’t imagine another art style doing it justice.” See—smart women.
And now it’s a book!
Did I mention I’m excited?
How does my mom feel about this book? It comes out on her birthday, February 11, and we are celebrating with two birthday party book launches—first on pub day at The Silver Unicorn Bookstore (Acton, MA) and then at High Five Books (Florence, MA). I hope she feels honored.
My favorite “Jane-ism” (which is what her students call nuggets of wisdom she spits out without even thinking) is this:
“The storyteller in me asks: what if? And when I try to answer that, a story begins.”
So, what if I wrote a book about my mom as a child…
It’s where her story began and the book begins.
Love you JY!!
~xoxoHeidi
Heidi EY Stemple is giving away a 30-minute AMA session. Leave one comment below to enter!
Good luck!
Heidi didn’t want to be a writer when she grew up. In fact, after she graduated from college, she became a probation officer in Florida. It wasn’t until she was 28 years old that she gave in and joined the family business, publishing her first short story in a book called Famous Writers and Their Kids Write Spooky Stories. The famous writer was her mom, author Jane Yolen. Since then, she has published more than thirty-five books and numerous short stories and poems, mostly for children.
Heidi lives and writes on a big old farm in Massachusetts that she shares with a dozen deer, a family of bears, three coyotes, two bobcats, a gray fox, a red fox, tons of birds, and some very fat groundhogs. Once a year she calls and counts owls for the Audubon Christmas Bird Count. Find her online at HeidiEYStemple.com and on Instagram @heidieys.
by Jena Benton
Now that you’re done with Storystorm and have fistfuls of ideas, I bet you’re wondering what to do with all of them. I like to sift through those jewels once a month until something sparkles at me. That is usually the story that becomes my rough first draft of the month (I try to write at least one new picture book manuscript every month). But let me caution you on one thing (which might seem obvious): don’t let your ideas become set in stone. They don’t need to be perfect little baubles you never adjust. Let me explain.
It was through a Storystorm idea and my writing process that I actually stumbled into my very first published picture book. And when I say stumbled, I do mean it was definitely NOT a straight line to success.
I have been faithfully participating in StoryStorm annually for so many years now that I’ve lost count. Let’s just say it was back in the “good old days” when it had a much different name and happened in November. In January of 2019, there was a brilliant graphic reshared from 2013. (See it here (it’s huge)!
One of the idea prompts (i.e., #4) was to think of your most embarrassing moment. This was the first idea gem of my book. I instantly remembered when I was in Elementary school, and I performed on stage (possibly for the school’s talent show—details are fuzzy). My dad had helped me to memorize a poem by my favorite poet for this event and I was excited to share it. I think I may have even started to recite the poem on stage, BUT when I saw all those faces staring back at me, I froze in sheer terror. I never finished the poem and I’m pretty sure someone had to come and get me off the stage too. Thinking back on that event, I wrote a draft about a Talent Show contest, but … today there are no prizes for school talent show contestants. And when everyone wins there isn’t any conflict.
Was the idea broken? It had certainly lost its luster. How in the world did I fix that? Then I examined the idea in a new light and it sparkled once more. I wondered if I could change the setting. What animal character would need to be “on stage” to perform in front of others? The answer hit me as clear as a ray of sunshine: a rooster crowing! They perform daily! But what if it was a young rooster trying to crow like his dad. And what if he also suffered from stage fright the first time he had to perform in front of all the farm yard animals?
I wrote another draft of this very concept, full of chicken-y facts I had researched. I revised it a few times until it flowed smoothly, then showed it to an illustrator friend of mine. She read it and was brave enough to tell me it would never sell. There were too many barn yard stories already out there with a similar plot. My idea once again lost its shine as if I had dropped it in the mud. I realized she was right. Maybe that idea was a dud. But I stubbornly didn’t want to give up on my little rooster.
So once again, I picked up my idea, dusted it off, and really examined it under a microscope. This time I asked myself why? Why did I write a story about chickens in the first place? I don’t own any chickens. I never grew up on a farm. I wasn’t a huge collector of chicken paraphernalia. Why had I researched and written a story about them? Then I remembered two things at the same time.
First, I remembered the amazing number of roosters and chickens I had seen on my honeymoon in Hawaii on the island of Kauai. There, more than on any other Hawaiian island, were SO many wild chickens they were called “jungle fowl.” While visiting there, my husband and I had stopped at an overlook to get out and admire the ocean view. We were astonished to see our car immediately surrounded by so many hens with their chicks in tow that we weren’t sure we could leave (they were even under the car!). When I thought about that event and how all those chickens had come running, I realized it was because a rooster had crowed.
The sparkle was now a stunning blaze of light! Then I thought about what else I needed: to raise my stakes. What if my rooster wasn’t on a farm, but was living free in the wild? What if instead of being called to feed when the farmer came, a wild flock was being called by the rooster when a car stopped just in case there was food? Bingo! Now the gleam was practically a spot light.
Second, I remembered this excellent Storyatorm post on marketability from 2018 by Tara Luebbe.
One of the things Tara Luebbe asked in her post was “are there any [specialty stores] you can envision your book fitting into?” Thanks to many previous trips to Hawaii where I had collected picture books published by a small local press, I knew that there was. Now the idea was sparkling so brightly it was practically a light house beam!
I revised my story from a barnyard to the outdoors in Hawaii, changed my rooster’s name to Kauai (my inspiration), raised the stakes, and voila! I had the perfect story for a small publisher in Hawaii, Island Heritage Press. My book KAUAI’S CALL was published May 2024.
What did I learn?
- Don’t be afraid to do a massive revision by asking yourself what could change. Examine those ideas in a new light.
- Keep going with your idea generation; sometimes ideas need to change to shine better.
If you take one of your sparkly ideas and write it, but your story doesn’t quite work, ask yourself what can I change? If I try it with a different character, does it work better? If I try it with a different setting, does it finally click? Etcetera.
I’ve written quite a few crazy ideas in my StoryStorm notebook that have been like the magical gemstone Alexandrite. By day they can look a beautiful green, and if I only looked for that surface level story, I might miss its other beauty. Because at night, it might shine a purplish red if I looked at it in another light. Don’t be afraid of letting your ideas change. Sometimes that’s where their real beauty can hide.
Jena Benton is a writer and illustration, plus she’s the SCBWI Illustrator Coordinator for the region of Alaska. She lives in Anchorage, Alaska now with her husband and two kitties. Visit her at JenaBenton.com.
Jena Benton is giving away a picture book critique to celebrate her Storystorm success! Just comment once below to enter. Good luck!
The 2025 Storystorm Pledge is now closed.
If you’ve been participating in Storystorm all month, you’ve been generating riots, riches and reams of ideas!
Luckily you don’t need reams of ideas to “win” the Storystorm challenge. You just need 30 of them!
When you have 30 ideas, you can qualify to win one of the AMAZING Storystorm Grand Prizes—feedback on your best 5 picture book ideas from a kidlit agent! (List to be announced.) This year there will be at least 5 grand prizes, and hopefully more!
SWEET!
In order to qualify for a Grand Prize, your name must be on the registration post AND the pledge below.
If you have 30 ideas, put your right hand on a picture book and repeat after me:
I do solemnly swear that I have faithfully executed
the Storystorm 30-ideas-in-January challenge,
and will, to the best of my ability,
parlay my ideas into picture book manuscripts.
Now I’m not saying all 30 ideas have to be good. Some may just be titles, some may be character quirks. Some may be problems and some may create problems when you sit down to write. Some may be high-concept and some barely a concept. But…they’re yours, all yours!
You have until February 7th at 11:59:59PM EST to sign the pledge by leaving a comment on this post.
PLEASE COMMENT ONLY ONCE.
The name you left on the registration post and the name you leave on this winner’s pledge SHOULD MATCH. However, when you comment, WordPress also logs other info that allows me to recognize you, so don’t worry if they’re not exact.
Again, please COMMENT ONLY ONCE. If you make a mistake, contact me instead of leaving a second comment.
Also, please know that sometimes WP puts your comment into a queue that I must moderate and approve, so it may take 24 hours (or more) for your comment to actually appear.
Remember, this is an honor system pledge. You don’t have to send in your ideas to prove you’ve got 30 of them. If you say so, I’ll believe you! Honestly, it’s that simple. (Wouldn’t it be nice if real life were that straightforward.)
Before you sign, you can also pick up your Winner’s Badge!
There are winner’s mugs and hoodies you can purchase at Zazzle.com/store/storystorm (note the “and all I got was this lousy mug” is now up). All proceeds go to The Highlights Foundation. If there’s other SWAG you want, I can add it to the shop…just ask!
Now…are you ready to sign?
Then GO FOR IT! Let’s see your name below!
And, CONGRATULATIONS!
Writing for Kids (While Raising Them) 