Hey! You just got those braces taken off your four front teeth, didn’t you? AW YEAH. Relish the freedom, because you’re going back into a full set when you’re thirteen. And you won’t get out of them until you’re sixteen, because the gods are unkind and cursed you with your mom’s big teeth and your dad’s teensy mouth. For now, relish the freedom of your orthodontics-free year, and in the trying season to come, keep in mind that people will one day be totally unaware that your two front teeth were once perpendicular to each other.
Your best friend moved away last year. That sucks. But years from now, you’ll connect again on Facebook, and she will fill your newsfeed with hilarious status updates. Guess what? Your two current best friends are going to move away, too. That double sucks. But I promise they’ll make fantastic pen pals, and you will find some new friends who actually stay in your hometown for more than a couple years.
You started your first novel this year! Don’t try hiding that Word doc, I know the secret folder where you keep it stashed. I also know where you hide the hand-drawn map of the fantasy world a’brewing in your imagination. I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you’ll abandon that book after about four chapters. The good news is you will keep on writing, and one day another fantasy novel of yours will be PUBLISHED and will include in its cast of characters a boy you’ve already invented and named Fife.
Your older sister can be a real pill, can’t she? She’s so unfair and never wants to hang out, and she thinks she’s so much cooler than you. But hey, she IS cooler than you. She’s seventeen, and she’s trying to figure out a lot of confusing crap in her life. So be a little less annoying, okay? And maybe resist the urge to dress up like Norman Bates and sneak into the bathroom when she’s showering whilst screeching the Psycho theme? Because that’s really creepy, and she will never let you live it down. Never. As it turns out, when you get older, the two of you will be good friends, and those pencil stabbing wars will be nothing more than a distant memory. Really. Miracles do happen.
Right now, you think a boyfriend is the Stupidest Thing Imaginable, and you don’t understand all your boy-crazy peers. And you know what? That’s totally cool. Don’t let anyone make you feel bad because you’re too busy pursuing your dreams to waste time on kissy face. There will be plenty of time for that later.
Yes, you will achieve your dream of living in England, and you will love every second of it. You will also realize it’s not socially acceptable to occasionally lapse into a British accent. You’ll live in Spain and learn how to speak decent Spanish, but it would’ve helped if you’d done a little more grunt work in school, so maybe spend more time practicing those boring conjugation exercises, okay? Unlike calculus, you actually WILL use that knowledge one day.
I’m not gonna lie, Kathryn, things are about to get super awkward. They’re going to get emotional and ugly and rough. You’re going to get very sick and visit dozens of doctors in an attempt to figure out what’s wrong. You’re going to be diagnosed with a chronic physical illness. You’re going to fight some inner-demons and be forced to confront your OCD head-on. You’re going to humiliate yourself on numerous occasions and repeatedly confirm that you’re terrible at volleyball.
But here’s the beautiful news: the best is yet to come. In the no-too-distant future, people will actually give you awards for being a nerd. You will meet crazy-amazing people and have all those long, deep, meaningful conversations you’re currently bundling up inside. You will walk where Roman emperors once promenaded and attend mind-blowing concerts and see the Alps and punt the River Cam. You will make friends who know you inside-out and love you just the same. You’ll realize that, once you’re not trapped there, your hometown can be a great place. And you’re going to make your dream come true: you’re going to become a published author.
Until then, keep walking to the beat of your own drum, you weirdo, you. I promise, it’s worth it. You’ve got this, Little K.
All the hugs,
P.S. For the love of all things, WEAR MORE SUNSCREEN. You are not invincible like your friends. You are incapable of tanning. Slather on the 100 SPF and spare yourself much needless suffering.
P. P. S. Hope you like the enclosed gel pens and root beer-flavored Lip Smackers. Ha. I know. Of course you do.
For as long as Lottie Fiske can remember, the only people who seem to care about her have been her best friend, Eliot, and the mysterious letter-writer who sends her birthday gifts. But now strange things and people are arriving on the island Lottie calls home, and Eliot’s getting sicker, with a disease the doctors have given up trying to cure. Lottie is helpless, useless, powerless.
And then a door opens in the apple tree.
Follow Lottie down through the apple roots to another world—a world of magic both treacherous and beautiful—in pursuit of the impossible: a cure for the incurable, a use for the useless, and protection against the pain of loss.
Find The Water and the Wild on Indiebound, Chronicle Books, B&N, and Amazon or ask for it in bookstores and libraries near you.
Find more Hey Kid! letters here.
|K. E. (aka Kathryn) Ormsbee grew up with a spaceship in her basement and went on many pretend (?) expeditions to the moon. The Water and the Wild is her first novel.|
Connect with Kathryn keormsbee.com, Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook.
I know, I know… you’re thinking about “officially” dropping the Y – you can do that after you read this letter. For now, you’re still Nicky.
I’m you in exactly twenty years, by the way, so I know you’re feeling a little anxious about starting 7th grade – middle school! Just so you’re prepared, on your first day, this kid named Brendan is going to take your chair in the cafeteria, and he’s going to be a real jerk about it. Believe it or not, in a few years, when you get to high school, you’re going end up being friends with him.
This is embarrassing to talk about, but I feel like I should warn you: you’re going to fall pretty hard for a few girls in 7th grade. Even worse: they’re all going to be taller than you, or they’re going to have crushes on people that are, like, three years older. Or they’re going to be deeply in love with one-hundred-year-old celebrities like Anthony Kiedis (that guy from The Red Hot Chili Peppers – I know, it’s ridiculous).
You’re going to hear this a lot:
“You’re going to be really cute in, like, ten years, when you grow up.”
Well, guess what: in ten years, you’re going to be headed for New York City, where you’ll live with your best friend and four guitars and stacks and stacks of punk rock records. It’s literally going to be The Best… and it won’t even matter if those girls were right, because cute is such a boring thing to be. Everybody you’re friends with in ten years will know that it’s better to be interesting than cute.
So don’t quit guitar lessons, even if your friend Jon is better than you think you’ll ever be. Keep practicing the drums! Above all else, don’t stop skateboarding after you break your wrist. If Back to the Future has taught me anything, it’s that if you promise to keep skateboarding every day, I should be able to go outside and do a varial flip by the time I’m done writing this letter. Learning tricks is much harder when you’re in your thirties, so please, please, please do me that one favor.
And just so you know, despite everything, you are going to ask one of the tall girls to the 8th grade dance, and she’s going to say yes, and it’s going to be a terrible night, mainly because everyone’s going to be taking pictures of her being taller than you. Rest assured: in twenty years, the worst part about that night will be that you can’t find any of those pictures.
Before I forget! There will be people with beards at your high school. Students! It’s insane, and you’re going to wonder when you’ll be able to grow a beard like that. I’m sorry to say that the answer is pretty much never. For better or worse, you’re going to be pretty baby-faced for a while. Even in your thirties, people are going to ask where you go to school.
Just smile and say “Hogwarts.”
Henry Long doesn’t have a heart. He doesn’t go to school. He doesn’t have a girlfriend. He doesn’t have a clue. Two of those things are about to change.
Since the Tragedies, Henry Long doesn’t have much: just an annoying low-watt buzz from his makeshift heart transplant, skinny arms, and a dusty library attic from which he charts the reconstruction of the Green Zone, the last habitable neighborhood of his ruined coastal city. While his parents work on making the Green Zone independent from a federal government that appears to have abandoned them, Henry’s feels similarly abandoned—that is, until he discovers a refugee artists’ colony called the Other Side. When the federales don’t take kindly to the Green Zone’s attempts at secession and kidnap Henry’s parents, Henry and his new renegade friends—including one very courageous girl with whom he’s shared one truly shocking kiss—are forced from the colorful streets and underground rock clubs of the Other Side to an overcrowded capital city on the verge of collapse.
As Henry uncovers more about the conflicting forces that run his world, he realizes that not everyone is who they seem to be—including himself. In The Loudness, readers will be propelled into an electrifying world where superheroes emerge from the unlikeliest people.
“I was recently persuaded by one who knows, that blurbs or cover quotes do no good, and I should not write them. So I will not be saying that The Loudness is a meticulously crafted and admirable book. Others may say it – I wouldn’t be surprised – but I say buy a copy, take it home and read it, and make up your own mind. What am I, a guru?” —Daniel Pinkwater
The Loudness can be found on Indiebound, Powell’s, Amazon, B&N or ask for it in bookstores and libraries near you.
Find more Hey Kid! letters here.
|Nick Courage is a New Orleans-born artist, musician, writer, and aspiring skateboarder. His work has recently appeared in Story, Full Stop, and The Paris Review Daily. He splits his time between Brooklyn and Pittsburgh, where he lives with his wife and two cats.|
Connect with Nick on nickcourage.com, Twitter, and Goodreads.
I don’t know why I’m writing you this letter. I’m supposed to tell you what I think you’ll need to know to get through your tween years, but, honestly, no one can tell you anything. Not even me. Remember when Mom and Dad went on that weekend getaway when you were four, and they brought back little pewter brooches for you and your sisters? Each brooch was in the shape of an animal that was supposed to represent the personality of the girl it was given to. One sister got a unicorn and the other got a bird, but you . . . you got a donkey. A donkey. That’s how stubborn you were. Still are.
So what can I possibly say that you’ll listen to? The only thing I can say—which is what you’re going to do anyway—is, keep it up. Keep being that stubborn. It’s going to make all the difference. You’re quiet and sweet, and from a very small town. People—teachers, preachers, friends, co-workers, and even perfect strangers—are going to take one look at you and that Peter Pan collar you’re wearing, and think you don’t know your own mind. That you need to take their word for what life is all about.
For a while, you try and go along with what everyone is telling you. You try and think what people want you to think and act like they want you to act. You’re going to try and do this longer and harder than you need to. This makes me sad, but I guess trying hard is all part of being stubborn. Eventually you stop. You just sit down, right where you are, and take a good long look at life as it is. Not as someone else told you it was. And guess what? . . . Nothing! I’m not going to tell you “what.” Because I would just be another person telling you how things are, instead of encouraging you to find out for yourself.
And so, little donkey, all I can say is go ahead. Put your foot down. Refuse to budge. Insist on going your own way. I’ll be right here waiting for you . . . off the beaten path. Because the path that catches your imagination and ignites your curiosity isn’t the beaten one — it’s the one “laid down in the walking.” And in the writing. For you, writing is about taking notes on what you notice when you stop and sit and refuse to budge. And what you notice is beyond belief and impossible to capture, but it’s worth giving it a try. Kind of like life.
Taking the path that’s laid down in the walking isn’t going to be easy. But the good news is that it doesn’t require you to do anything out of character. Going your own way doesn’t involve giving up being that quiet, sweet self. Turns out, real rebels wear Peter Pan collars.
Find The Lost Track of Time on BookPeople, IndieBound, Amazon, B&N, or ask for it in bookstores and libraries near you.
Penelope is running out of time!
She dreams of being a writer, but how can she pursue her passion when her mother schedules every minute of her life? And how will she ever prove that writing is worthwhile if her mother keeps telling her to “get busy!” and “be more productive”?
Then one day, Penelope discovers a hole in her schedule–an entire day completely unplanned!–and she mysteriously falls into it. What follows is a mesmerizing journey through the Realm of Possibility where Penelope sets out to find and free the Great Moodler, the one person who may have the answers she seeks. Along the way, she must face an army of Clockworkers, battle the evil Chronos, take a daring Flight of Fancy, and save herself from the grip of time.
Brimming with clever language and masterful wordplay, The Lost Track of Time is a high-stakes adventure that will take you to a place where nothing is impossible and every minute doesn’t count–people do!
Find more Hey Kid! letters here.
|Paige Britt grew up in a small town with her nose in a book and her head in the clouds. She studied journalism in college and theology in graduate school, but never stopped reading children’s books for life’s most important lessons. THE LOST TRACK OF TIME is her debut novel.|
Connect with Paige on PaigeBritt.com, Twitter, Facebook, and Goodreads.
Hi there 12-year-old Bryce and 12-year-old Kristy,
Bryce, I know that right now it’s an absolute nightmare being in that head of yours and you don’t know why. Unfortunately, in your time period, ADHD isn’t a thing yet, and Ritalin hasn’t been invented, so you’ll just have to muddle through with that messed up brain for a few more years until everything just sorts itself out. And Kristy, I know you’re probably wondering why you’re wasting time talking to us when you could be studying for the next 6 months worth of tests and obsessing over that last A+ you got when you thought you should have gotten an A++, but we’re here to tell you that marks aren’t everything and you’ve got to learn to…
Dang. Kristy just fainted.
OK, Bryce, stop spinning in a circle and help your future wife.
Is she OK? Can she sit up? How many fingers am I holding up? What? NO, this won’t be on a test later! What’s the matter with…
Ahem. Right. Encouragement. OK, let’s try that again…
Bryce, we know you’re probably confused and frustrated by all these people trying to “label” you. You’re probably even more frustrated that the government doctor put a big red “Mentally Challenged,” stamp on your file. He was wrong, but in his defense, you COULD have just answered his questions instead of trying to gnaw his ankle off like a rabid, insane hyena. That’s on you, little buddy.
And Kristy, we know you’re frustrated too, but for the opposite reason. Your parents picked out a label for you before you were born, and that it was “Academic Over-Achiever, Eventual Engineer” without even asking you. No, it doesn’t fit, and no, it’s not fair that your entire life seems to be planned out for you for the next twenty years.
But to both of you, we’re happy to tell you that both of you will eventually shed those labels you didn’t ask for and didn’t want. Bryce, you’re going to end up excelling in school, eventually graduating with a Masters of Computer Engineering degree from the most prestigious university in Canada. You’ll even get the girl in the end, which I’m SURE is something even your wildest fantasy couldn’t have predicted. And Kristy, you’re going to bust through your label and keep shooting for the stars. You’re not going to accept the hum-drum life of an office drone and you’re going to pursue your dream of being a writer with the intensity of a thousand suns until you finally pull it off.
You know, it’s too bad that our teachers and parents put so much effort into trying to label us. It was their way of compartmentalizing us, classify us. Figure out which box we fit in so they knew how to deal with us. What a useless, pointless waste of time. All that achieved was making us feel bad about ourselves, and in the end they weren’t even right!
Do yourself a favor. Next time someone tries to label you, see it as a challenge. “You think I’m just a nerd? Well, I’ll show you!” Next time someone tries to tell you what you can and can’t do, prove them wrong. And if anyone EVER tries to stick you in a box, you punch your way out the side and never look back.
~Bryce and Kristy
P.S. To celebrate our LITTLE MISS EVIL book launch on March 10, 2015, we’re hosting a Super-villain Super Giveaway! You could win an Amazon Kindle Fire HD, a $50 Amazon gift card, as well as signed copies of LITTLE MISS EVIL. Click here to enter.
Find Little Miss Evil on IndieBound, B&N, Amazon, or ask for it in bookstores and libraries near you.
When you live in a volcano, ride to school in a helicopter, and regularly see your dad on the news with the caption “EVIL GENIUS” underneath his picture, it takes a lot to rattle you.
Until you get a message that says: We have your father. Deliver the NOVA in 24 hours or we will kill him.
What’s a NOVA you ask? It’s a nuclear bomb capable of turning the city into a radioactive mushroom cloud, and ever since Fiona’s dad built it, it’s caused nothing but grief. But telling him to stop building weapons is like telling Michelangelo to stop painting.
And that’s why thirteen-year-old Fiona has a flamethrower strapped to her arm. After all, who’d mess with a girl who can throw fireballs?
Apparently, these guys.
Find more Hey Kid! letters here.
|Bryce and Kristy are a tag-team writing duo with too many voices in their heads. As engineers living in Toronto, they can’t be safely contained by mere cubicle walls, and therefore spend every waking moment writing to keep the crazy from leaking out at the office.|
Connect with them on kristyandbryce.com, Twitter, and Goodreads.
Dear 8-year-old Abi,
It’s 30-year-old Abi here. Yup, you’re still here. The monster that you thought lived in the attic at home didn’t actually gobble you up – even though you probably deserved it once or twice. I’m sorry to say that 30-year-old you is no wiser than 8-year-old you (you’re still headstrong, impulsive and lacking in common sense). But for what it’s worth, and with the power of hindsight, I’m going to answer ten of the questions that are whizzing around your head right now.
- Why is my hair so knotty? Trust me, Abi, knots in your hair is the very least of your worries. I’m afraid you accidentally dye your hair pink the day before senior school starts and when, weeks later, you try to go for the Gwyneth Paltrow Sliding Doors style, you dodge that completely and end up looking like Dawson from Dawson’s Creek. So chill out about the knots; it gets worse…
- Will I form a secret club soon? Yes, together with two of your best friends, you’ll form BULC (CLUB backwards). It will be like Just William’s gang but for girls. You’ll have purple tracksuits, secret passwords, funky handshakes and you’ll get into trouble a lot.
- Why am I so bad at Maths? Don’t take it to heart when your brain freezes and you can’t add up the simplest sums. You’re not stupid. You’re actually dyslexic and it’s just that your brain processes numbers in a different way from a lot of other children. It’s slow to count but fast to build stories. And that’s fine.
- Will boarding school be scary? You’re going to have the time of your life there. You’ll have dorm feasts, you’ll run away with a group of friends in the middle of the night into the woods, you’ll play rounders for Scotland and you’ll make lifelong friends.
- Do I get any cool pets any time soon? You get two mice, which you pretentiously call Mozart and Beethoven. But you lose interest in them when a black rabbit called Shadow comes along. You lose in her, too, when she bites you so hard you have to wear ski gloves to handle her. You’re still waiting for a snow leopard. Ever hopeful.
- Is growing up going to hurt? There are times when it’s really going to hurt. Your parents aren’t going to stay together and though you think you can stop that happening aged 8, you can’t. This is something that can’t be fixed, Abi, and it’s not your fault. Though it’s going to knock you down for a while, you’ll get back up again and fight. And out of all the pain, good things will happen. For one, you’ll realise you have family and friends who will stick by you no matter what.
- Is it possible to stay 8-years-old forever? You’ll be pleased to know that your mental game is still pitched at 8-years-old. You had a giggling fit in front of twenty 15-year-old pupils you were teaching the other day, you wear a lot of animal onesies and you love swings so much you bought one to go inside your house last week.
- Am I going to be famous when I’m older? No. But you’re going to bounce on a bouncy castle with Charlie from Busted. And Westley from A Princess Bride is going to hug you. Three times.
- Am I going to present Blue Peter when I’m a grown up? You haven’t presented on that show (yet) but you did as your mum told you – you dreamed BIG – and now you’re a published children’s author.
- Do I still have my teddy aged 30? Yes, you do. It even comes on your honeymoon with you.
Yes, 8-year-old Abi, you can go back to your tree house now. Keep dreaming magical thoughts, don’t worry about the times you walk out of class with your skirt tucked into your knickers and know that the adventures you’re having right now – jumping into icy rivers, searching for hidden waterfalls on the moors, building dens in the woods – are going to happen all over again in your debut children’s book, The Dreamsnatcher.
Find The Dreamsnatcher in the UK on Hive, Waterstones, WH Smith, and Amazon, worldwide on The Book Depository, or request it in bookstores and libraries near you.
Twelve-year-old Molly Pecksniff wakes one night in the middle of the forest, lured there by a recurring nightmare – the one with the drums and the rattles and the masks. The Dreamsnatcher is waiting. He has already taken her dreams and now he wants her life. Because Moll is more important than she knows…The Oracle Bones foretold that she and Gryff, a wildcat that has always been by her side, are the only ones who can fight back against the Dreamsnatcher’s dark magic. Suddenly everything is at stake, and Moll is drawn into a world full of secrets, magic and adventure. Perfect for fans of J.K. Rowling, Michelle Harrison and Eva Ibbotson.
Find more Hey Kid! letters here.
|Abi Elphinstone grew up in Scotland where she spent most of her childhood building dens, hiding in tree houses and running wild across highland glens. After being coaxed out of her tree house, she studied English at Bristol University and then worked as a teacher in Africa, Berkshire and London. THE DREAMSNATCHER is her debut novel and when she’s not writing about Moll and Gryff, she runs her children’s books blog www.moontrug.com.|
Connect with Abi on abielphinstone.com, Twitter, Facebook, and Goodreads.
Dear Middle-Grade Me,
You are just about the right amount of weird. I like that you wear the same sweater every day and don’t care how your hair looks. I like the yellow and orange hat you’ve grown attached to and how you still sleep with Teddy, your oldest and most beloved stuffed animal. I like how quirky you are, how imaginative you are, and how happy you are reading a book or being read to.
You are never too old to have someone read to you.
It’s okay to spend time by yourself. It’s also okay not to be “popular.” No one really knows what that means, anyway. Keep those friends who make you feel good about being you, and let go of the ones who don’t have a sense of humor.
Also, your mother is smarter than you think. Remember things she tells you because you’ll want to repeat them when you have your own children.
Make things. Forts. Poorly constructed stuffed animals that have all the insides fluffing out through the seams. Dollhouses and miniatures to fill them. Maps. Tunnels. Fairy villages in the woods. Jewelry. Games. Drawings of castles. Potholders.
Do the little things. Pick up a dropped pencil. Invite someone to sit next to you at lunch. Put the dishes from the sink into the dishwasher without being asked (I guarantee your mom or dad will LOVE this one). Fold a blanket. Pick wildflowers. Look for four-leaf clovers. Lie on your back and look at the clouds. Play in the rain. Write a letter to a grandparent. Let the dog in. Or out. Or back in again. Scratch the cat under the chin. Say a prayer for the man walking along the street. Give someone a dollar and tell her she doesn’t have to pay you back. Get dirty.
Be kind. You never, ever have to regret being kind. Even if someone takes advantage of your kindness, that’s the person who has lost—he has lost the trust of a kind person.
Don’t worry about boys. I know that’s easier said than done, but now that you have both a son and a daughter, you realize boys don’t necessarily like the prettiest girls—they might just prefer the happier one, the funnier one, the one who laughs at their jokes, the one who is comfortable in her own skin and makes him feel comfortable, too. Boys can make for really great friends.
Change is good—don’t try to fight it. Friends will change. Houses will change. People will change. Presidents and principals and weather and schools, health and family and location and what you value will all change. Love where you are and who you’re with. It doesn’t mean you’re giving up on everything else, it means you value the present.
If you can, travel. Don’t ever be afraid of looking stupid. Always laugh at yourself and never laugh at other people. Make mistakes. Make more mistakes. Don’t keep making the same mistakes.
Don’t wait around for other people to recognize how great you are. Just be your awesome self. And if some people are late for that party bus, well, they are just going to have to run to catch up. Because you are worth it.
You are worth every bit of it.
Find Alison DeCamp’s debut novel, My Near Death Adventures on Indiebound, Barnes & Noble, Random House, or order a personalized and signed copy at her local indie bookstore, Between the Covers.
It is 1895. Stan is on a mission to find his long-lost father in the logging camps of Michigan. And he’s embellishing all of it in his stupendous scrapbook.
There are many things that 11-year-old Stanley Slater would like to have in life, most of all, a father. But what if Stan’s missing dad isn’t “dearly departed” after all? Who better to find this absent hero/cowboy/outlaw than manly Stan himself? Unfortunately, Stan’s fending off his impossible cousin Geri, evil Granny, and Mama’s suitors like Cold-Blooded Killer Stinky Pete. If only he could join the River Drive, the most perilous adventure of all, where even a fellow’s peavey is at risk.
It’s a wild ride for Stan as he finds out about true manliness. But at least Stan has his scrapbook, full of 200 black-and-white 19th-century advertisements and photos, “augmented” with his commentary and doodles.
|Alison DeCamp grew up in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, graduated from Michigan State, and used to teach middle school and high school language arts. She lives in Harbor Springs, Michigan with her husband and two children.|
Connect with Alison on AlisonDeCamp.com, or on twitter, facebook, and Goodreads.