Our children are growing up in a Supersize world that we didn't begin to experience until we were adults. Supersize drinks and fries are just the start of it.
- Supersize the caffeine rush with Red Bull (several of my previous high school students physically couldn't sit still after drinking one of these before coming to my class; what does that say about my teaching that they needed a caffeine kick?).
- Supersize the speed of connectivity with friends via text msg, IMing, Facebook, and more.
- Supersize the space needed to hold the large amounts of clothes and shoes (it wasn't so long ago that an individual owned one or two dresses instead of 10 like I have in my closet).
- Supersize the television screens we watch movies on (our daughter gets to watch movies on a screen that is like a mini-movie theater compared to the Zenith I grew up with).
- Supersize the connectivity to music, tv, books, media, and more with the Internet
My absolute favorite poem by William Blake, Auguries of Innocence, begins with the simple yet deep lines...
To see a world in a grain of sand,
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
and eternity in an hour.
A writer-mama's audience, whether it happens to be children, young adults, or adults, is going to be influenced by the Supersize world we live in, which makes it more challenging to write about the world in a grain of sand.
As I work on my young-adult fiction book, I often stop to ask myself, "Will the reader really want to know this detail? Will the reader be able to relate to the character that doesn't want everything Supersized? How can I share my passion for appreciating the little things in life that require slowing down when many young adults are running on Red Bull?"
When I lived in the rainforest it was easier to share the smallness of the diverse world with people, because we could use all of our five senses exploring and investigating. I spent an entire 30 minutes examining tiny orange cup fungus on a nurse tree with two children. On a night hike I once got a group of 15 teenagers to turn off their iPODs and stop talking to simply listen to the tree frogs in the dark forest surrounding us. During a plant workshop, I taught students to use magnifying lenses to see tiny pores of citrus plant leaves, which they then tore up to smell the citrus odor. My favorite memory is of a time when a few teenagers came in from the rainforest to the biological station carrying an enormous boa constrictor. As it began to regurgitate a partically digested oppossum, the other teenagers put down their MP3 players and laptops to race to the snake to watch the gruesome scene.
How can I extract this excitement for the small wonders in children and young adults in my writing? I want my writings to achieve this and any less will make me feel like I have let down my readers.
Good writing is the start of meeting this challenge. Knowing my readers is also an important component. And keeping myself immersed in both worlds, Supersized and smallness, will help me create that bridge to connect the two so children and young adults can travel back and forth.
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
and eternity in an hour.
A writer-mama's audience, whether it happens to be children, young adults, or adults, is going to be influenced by the Supersize world we live in, which makes it more challenging to write about the world in a grain of sand.
As I work on my young-adult fiction book, I often stop to ask myself, "Will the reader really want to know this detail? Will the reader be able to relate to the character that doesn't want everything Supersized? How can I share my passion for appreciating the little things in life that require slowing down when many young adults are running on Red Bull?"
When I lived in the rainforest it was easier to share the smallness of the diverse world with people, because we could use all of our five senses exploring and investigating. I spent an entire 30 minutes examining tiny orange cup fungus on a nurse tree with two children. On a night hike I once got a group of 15 teenagers to turn off their iPODs and stop talking to simply listen to the tree frogs in the dark forest surrounding us. During a plant workshop, I taught students to use magnifying lenses to see tiny pores of citrus plant leaves, which they then tore up to smell the citrus odor. My favorite memory is of a time when a few teenagers came in from the rainforest to the biological station carrying an enormous boa constrictor. As it began to regurgitate a partically digested oppossum, the other teenagers put down their MP3 players and laptops to race to the snake to watch the gruesome scene.
How can I extract this excitement for the small wonders in children and young adults in my writing? I want my writings to achieve this and any less will make me feel like I have let down my readers.
Good writing is the start of meeting this challenge. Knowing my readers is also an important component. And keeping myself immersed in both worlds, Supersized and smallness, will help me create that bridge to connect the two so children and young adults can travel back and forth.
3 comments:
I don't write young adult so I can't say how that audience will relate to the less 'supersized' version of life. I like to hope they would recognize the simplicity. I remember when being told to 'go play' meant outside in the sandbox. Now to most kids that means video games or the computer.
Life seemed a lot more simple before technology took over.
I love the poem by the way. And funny, my word verification for your blog today is 'prose'.
What a thoughtful post! You make some good points. The instant-access, high-speed, constantly connected thing worries me the most. I think it just breeds stress.
McDonald's in small doses is fine. It's a childhood institution! Your kids will grow up & realize it's gross. I got a shake & fries there when I was pregnant & thought, this just isn't as good as I remembered. Then I went to Chick-fil-a instead!
I love this post... and even though I am not a "writer", I totally understand the meaning behind all of this. Here's my most recent attempt: the past few times it's rained, I've spent five minutes looking at earthworms with my kids.
Earthworms.
Don't squoosh 'em. Check 'em out close. (Not too close, I'll throw up.) But watch 'em move! How cool is that - kids don't even take time to check out WORMS anymore!
PS... I don't think I got my point across - today my kids ran in from outside screaming for me to come look at the "HUGEST, GROSSEST WORM EVER"... and how they ran it over with their bikes.
Great.
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