When I’m on vacation, I usually break out of the middle-grade/Young Adult world and treat myself to a NY Times best seller, or an adult novel that parallels my own work for children.  This year, over Spring Break, I chose Julie Orringer’s The Invisible Bridge, a novel set in Europe during World War II. It mostly takes place in France and Hungary and is about a Jewish man who is affected by the raging anti-semitism around him and ultimately, the war itself. Although my main objective was to gain information about the time period and the people (my main character’s family in Shayna’s Song are Hungarian immigrants who left relatives behind) I found myself swept away in the actual writing.  Ms. Orringer’s ability to create gorgeous language amidst the backdrop of a horrendous war, astonished me.  I was bowled over by her ability to put words together and struck by her genius as a wordsmith.  At first I was taken in, mesmerized by her talent, her brilliance.  And then it hit me. Why do I bother?  Why do I even attempt to create stories when there are so many writers out there who are masters of the craft?  I was depressed. I felt like putting my novels in the drawer for good.

On page 236 alone, I found a treasure trove of word jewels: “Sturdy sheep and goats stood in bitten-down grass.  Children beat at the exoskeleton of a rusted Citoren.  A clutter of chickens crowded into the roadway.  A thunderstorm overtook them and threw a hard slant of rain.  As they drew closer it (the sea) became a vast plain of liquid metal. The grasses bent their seed pods in a rising wind.  The red lozenge of the sun dissolved into the horizon. At the margin of the water, a pounding roar and a cataclysm of foam. They got out of the car and walked toward that ragged white edge.” THIS IS ALL ON ONE PAGE!

And then I took a deep breath.  Many breaths, actually, and decided to write this blog post.  I wanted to shout it to the world.  Yes, I could be discouraged by my lack of genius, my inability to paint with words the way Julie Orringer does. Or, I could go back to my own manuscripts and try harder, to play more with the words.  I’m usually focused on character, voice, plot, story arc, rising action that gets you to turn the page, making life miserable for my main character, etc, etc. I’ve been told I have a knack for dialogue, a great voice with characters who make you care about them.  But I love the icing on the cake; the sprinkles, the whipped cream, the cherry on top, the little extras that make the writing vivid and delicious.  So, I will continue to bother. I will go back and add the word doodads, the sparkly combinations of strong verbs and carefully chosen adjectives to get others to stop and say:” I’m glad she bothered.”