Writers’ Questions: Adult, YA, Middle Grade and More—Who Am I Writing For?

There was nothing I hated more as a child than feeling embarrassed, but I’ll share one of those youthful humiliations with you today. 

When I was eight or nine, a grown-up family friend asked me what I was reading, listing off books written for children. I answered, with all the pretension I could muster, that I “preferred to read adult books.” I was met by guffaws, though I didn’t understand why. Later that day my mother explained that “adult books” might be taken to mean erotica.  

Now I look back at this incident and wish I could tell my younger self that technically she was right—while adult bookstores may be purveyors of X-rated reading material, in the publishing industry, Adult is the categorisation given to all books aimed at an 18+ readership.

Today, I’m an author of historical fiction for adults, but this memory isn’t the only confusion I’ve encountered when it comes to publishing’s age categories. Beginner writers are often unsure about the industry’s distinctions and what it is they themselves are writing. So, in this latest post in my Writers’ Questions series, I’m diving into the topic, with the large caveat that I myself do not write for children.

So let’s get into it. The age categorisations you’re most likely to encounter in fiction are Adult, Young Adult, Middle Grade, Chapter Books, and Picture Books. 

Picture Books are those read to children or read by them in the early stages of their literacy journey. Chapter Books are for the more advanced child reader and are long enough to be broken into chapters. Middle Grade books usually star a pre-teen protagonist and are similar in length to a novella for adults. Young Adult novels can be similar in length to Adult novels, but deal with teen characters, dilemmas, and themes. Adult fiction we’ve already covered.

This all sounds straightforward, but writers can still run into difficulties. Below are a few questions you should consider if trying to identify where your novel or novel idea might fit in the marketplace.

What age is your main character?

This seems easy, right? Writing middle grade? Make your protagonist 10. Writing YA? Your heroine is 16. But, while books for children almost always have child protagonists, Adult books could have a child protagonist too. 

Consider The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas, by John Boyne, or Charles Dickens’s David Copperfield. The first is a novel dealing with the Holocaust that has a small boy as its tragic lead. The second is a bildungsroman, which follows David from childhood into his adult years. Neither is meant for children.

What length is your manuscript?

Yes, there are exceptions. J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone is much longer than the typical middle grade novel. George Orwell’s Animal Farm is sometimes referred to as a novel for adults, but really it’s novella length. 

But exceptions are not the rule, and, if you’re aiming to have a debut novel published, it’s best to stick to the guidelines. There are plenty of other reference posts about this online, but basically: Picture Book – 50-1,000 words; Chapter Books – 4,000-15,000 words; Middle Grade – 20,000-40,000 words; Young Adult – 40,000-80,000 words (maybe longer for genres with heavy world building); Adult – 70,000+ words.

Is your book suitable for children?

I don’t just mean, “Does your manuscript include hot-button topics like sex?” (generally, not a topic prior to YA and not graphic even in YA). But is your book about topics that children will care about? Also consider the lesson your novel might be imparting. The younger the reader, the more didactic fiction tends to be, as we use books as tools to teach our kids how to navigate the world. 

What books would you compare yours to?

Identifying comparative titles could help you distinguish your age category, but make sure you’re looking at books published within the last few years! Children’s literature has shifted massively from the nineteenth century until today, and, while you may still feel inspired by classic children’s books, they won’t be your best reference point for saleability.

I hope these questions have been helpful in working out what you’re writing or writing next! Which topics would you like to see me cover next as part of my Writers’ Questions series? Let me know—here, on Facebook, on Instagram, or by tweeting @SVictorianist. My novel, Bronte’s Mistress, which is very much for adults, is available in hardcover, audiobook, and e-book now, and the paperback will be released next month! For updates on this, my writing advice and more, sign up to my email newsletter below. 

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Abridging A Christmas Carol

It’s been quite a year for the Secret Victorianist, and 2020 is set to be even more exciting, with the publication of my forthcoming novel, Bronte’s Mistress. Happy Christmas and, whether you’re new here or have been following along since 2013, thank you for reading!

In keeping with the festive season, in this post I recount a conversation with Jesse Kornbluth, a writer who recently took on abridging a seasonal classic—Charles Dickens’s A Christmas Carol (1843).

Jesse is the writer behind Head Butler, a website that aims to be your cultural concierge, covering books, movies, music and more. His abridged version of A Christmas Carol, created with children and those listening to the story aloud in mind, is now available on Amazon.

Me: Jesse, what made you want to take on the (formidable!) job of abridging one of the English language’s best-loved novelists?

J: I remember Arthur Bliss Perry, the aged and legendary headmaster of Milton Academy, reading A Christmas Carol to us in a dimly lit library before we left school in December. He didn’t read the entire story. Fifty years later, when I tried to read it to my daughter, she couldn’t bear it after five minutes. So I decided to do what Mr Perry did (and what Dickens himself did when he performed his stories): I abridged it.

Me: What was your overall approach?

J: I kept all the dialogue, but streamlined the description. Thanks to movies, readers already have a picture of what Victorian London looked like. Dickens would have been a terrific screenwriter. He moved the story forward with no digressions.

Me: Speaking of films, do you have a favourite adaptation of A Christmas Carol?

J: Hmm, it has to be one of the black-and-white films—probably the 1951 version, with Alastair Sim. [Note: This was released as Scrooge in the UK.]

Me: And any favourite Dickens quotes?

J: Yes, but from Bleak House, not A Christmas Carol: “Dead, men and women, born with Heavenly compassion in your hearts. And dying thus around us every day.”

Me: What is it do you think about Dickens, and A Christmas Carol in particular, that continues to resonate with readers, listeners and viewers today?

J: I think we all want to believe that there’s no evil in the world—only damaged people who can be healed. And if there is evil, we want to believe in a magical cure. That’s what A Christmas Carol offers.

Me: Thank you, Jesse, and merry Christmas!

If you’re interested in learning more about Jesse’s project, then check out his website. And if you have any ideas/requests/suggestions for content from the Secret Victorianist in 2020, let me know—here, on Facebook or by tweeting @SVictorianist.

I’ll be updating you on my publication journey here on my blog, but check out my author website to read early praise for Bronte’s Mistress and, if you want to receive news straight to your inbox, sign up for my email newsletter below.

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An Old-Fashioned Girl, or What We Taught Girls in the 1860s

The Secret Victorianist recently read 1869 novel An Old-Fashioned Girl by Louisa May Alcott (of Little Women fame).

In her Preface, Alcott wrote of the story’s didacticism:

The Old-Fashioned Girl is not intended as a perfect model, but as a possible improvement upon the Girl of the Period, who seems sorrowfully ignorant or ashamed of the good old fashions which make woman truly beautiful and honored, and, through her, render home what it should be - a happy place, where parents and children, brothers and sisters, learn to love and know and help one another.

What then ‘should’ a girl be and do to maintain domestic happiness, according to this nineteenth-century writer? Below are five lessons that Alcott and her heroine, Polly, taught me.

Louisa May Alcott (1832-1888)

1. She shouldn’t go to theatre

Fourteen-year-old Polly is scandalised when she is taken to a play with suggestive humour and beguiling actresses:

"I know it wasn't proper for little girls to see, or I shouldn't have been so ashamed!" cried sturdy Polly, perplexed, but not convinced, even by Mrs. Smythe Perkins.

"I think you are right, my dear; but you have lived in the country, and haven't yet learned that modesty has gone out of fashion." And with a good-night kiss, grandma left Polly to dream dreadfully of dancing in jockey costume, on a great stage; while Tom played a big drum in the orchestra; and the audience all wore the faces of her father and mother, looking sorrowfully at her, with eyes like saucers, and faces as red as Fanny's sash.

2. She shouldn’t lose her temper

Polly is (predictably) skilled in the kitchen but doesn’t lose her cool when her friend’s brother/her own future husband eats the fruits of her labour.

Polly was not a model girl by any means, and had her little pets and tempers like the rest of us; but she didn't fight, scream, and squabble with her brothers and sisters in this disgraceful way, and was much surprised to see her elegant friend in such a passion. "Oh, don't! Please, don't! You'll hurt her, Tom! Let him go, Fanny! It's no matter about the candy; we can make some more!" cried Polly, trying to part them, and looking so distressed, that they stopped ashamed, and in a minute sorry that she should see such a display of temper.

3. She should notice others’ failings but only correct them by example

Polly manages to transform the Shaw household but rarely by expressing her opinion.

Polly wished the children would be kinder to grandma; but it was not for her to tell them so, although it troubled her a good deal, and she could only try to make up for it by being as dutiful and affectionate as if their grandma was her own.

4. She should exercise, but not to display herself

Polly’s pursuits are entirely wholesome (the antithesis of novels).

Another thing that disturbed Polly was the want of exercise…At home, Polly ran and rode, coasted and skated, jumped rope and raked hay, worked in her garden and rowed her boat; so no wonder she longed for something more lively than a daily promenade with a flock of giddy girls, who tilted along in high-heeled boots, and costumes which made Polly ashamed to be seen with some of them. So she used to slip out alone sometimes, when Fanny was absorbed in novels, company, or millinery, and get fine brisk walks round the park, on the unfashionable side, where the babies took their airings; or she went inside, to watch the boys coasting, and to wish she could coast too, as she did at home. She never went far, and always came back rosy and gay.

5. She should love in silence

As an adult, Polly suffers silently with her love for Tom throughout his engagement to another and his lengthy absence after going west. Her modesty is so extreme that she never actively confesses it, even to her friend, and it's not even made overt in the narration.

"Polly, is it Tom?"

Poor Polly was so taken by surprise, that she had not a word to say. None were needed; her telltale face answered for her, as well as the impulse which made her hide her head in the sofa cushion, like a foolish ostrich when the hunters are after it.

No novels, no plays and no opinions, a foolish ostrich who cannot escape her own desire to wed – that’s what we taught girls then. What do we teach them today?

What nineteenth-century novel would you like to see the Secret Victorianist read next? Let me know – here, on Facebook or by tweeting @SVictorianist.

The Secret Victorianist at the Grolier Club: Alice in a World of Wonderlands, The Translations of Lewis Carroll’s Masterpiece

Last weekend I went to an exhibition that is a testament to the far-reaching power of the human imagination and to the importance of collaborative scholarship.

The exhibition

Alice in a World of Wonderlands marks 150 years since the publication of Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (1865) by investigating the translations into 176 different languages that have emerged since the work’s publication and are the subject of a new book that shares the exhibition’s name.

Finnish translation (1952)

Finding and cataloguing these translations, and their editions, was a labour of love and involved a lot of detective work, with over 250 unpaid volunteers tracking down texts all over the world.

Christina Rossetti's signed copy of the first (German) translation of Alice (1869)

German was the first language other than English in which Alice first came to life (in 1869).  French, Swedish, Italian, Danish and Dutch soon followed in the nineteenth century, some with Carroll’s knowledge and consent, others without.

Catalan translation (1927)

But it is in the twentieth century that we see a proliferation of Alices (not that the central character always has this name). From Breton to Urdu, Esperanto to Pitjantjatjara, Hebrew to Malay, many readers have been taken down the rabbit hole. The question is – what do they find there?

Vladamir Nabokov's (Russian) translation (1923)

Alice in a World of Wonderlands, edited by Jon A. Lindseth and Alan Tannenbaum, for instance, contains 251 back translations into English to see how different translators approached the task of rendering one of Carroll’s poems:

Twinkle, twinkle, little bat!

How I wonder what you're at!

Up above the world you fly,

Like a tea tray in the sky.

Twinkle, twinkle, little bat!

How I wonder what you're at!

Romanian translation (1991)

Native English speakers recognise this as a parody of the children’s nursery rhyme ‘Twinkle, twinkle, little star’, but translated literally into another tongue this context will be lost. This speaks directly to the translation debate of domestication vs. foreignisation. In other words, is it the role of the translator to educate the reader about the culture in which it was produced (here Victorian Britain) or to make the writer’s intention more immediately apparent by using shorthands with which he or she is familiar from their own culture.

Marathi translation (1982)

The translator of a version in Marathi for example (one of 12 Indian languages included in the catalogue) was one of those who decided to play with a rhyme familiar to his readers. He writes:

‘When I transformed Alice into Jaai I taught her not only customs and traditions of this land, but also the popular songs of this soil known to all.’

Poster for a Japanese stage play (1998)

Seeing the exhibition in person, one of the most obvious things to be struck by is the incredible range of visual responses to the text and John Tenniel’s illustrations. Cover illustrations range from the saccharine to the surreal, with the influence of Disney’s 1951 animated feature film clear. Alice seems to hold particular visual appeal in Japan, as posters for Alice-inspired stage plays are also on display here – maybe not surprising given the natural co-option of Alice into Lolita fashion.

Alphagram translation (2012)

This interactive map allows you to explore the myriad wonderlands inspired by one story told in Oxford on a sunny day, but if you’re in New York City, I’d definitely recommend checking out the exhibition in person. I already reviewed the Morgan Library & Museum’s retrospective into the novel’s origins, but it is at the Grolier Club that the legend of Alice seems to be very much alive.

Hebrew translation (1923)

The exhibition Alice in a World of Wonderlands, The Translations of Lewis Carroll’s Masterpiece is running until November 21 at the Grolier Club. Entrance is free.

Bosnian translation (2008)

Do you know of any other nineteenth-century exhibitions in NYC you think the Secret Victorianist should visit? Let me know – here, on Facebook or by tweeting @SVictorianist.

Teaching Tennyson’s ‘The Lady of Shalott’

On either side the river lie

Long fields of barley and of rye,

That clothe the wold and meet the sky;

These are the first lines of a poem that many of us met for the first time in our schooldays – Alfred, Lord Tennyson’s ‘The Lady of Shalott’ (pub. 1833, rev. 1842).

I’ve already blogged about the importance of choosing poems with a strong narrative when introducing children to poetry, so it’s little wonder that this tale of enchantment, love at first sight, and death, remains an English class favourite.

In today’s post I’ll suggest a few creative ways to get a class excited about the poem and engaged with Victorian poetry from what may well be their first encounter with the period.

'I am half-sick of shadows - said the Lady of Shalott', John William Waterhouse (1915) 

1. Retell the story in prose: Most students will be more familiar with prose at this early point in their literary education than poetry. That means there’s more to helping them understand a poem than glossing any unfamiliar words. Asking them to retell the story as a prose narrative will increase their familiarity with the poem and also provides a great opportunity to discuss as a group those questions that Tennyson leaves unanswered.

She has heard a whisper say,

A curse is on her if she stay

What is this curse? Is it real or the result of the Lady’s unhappiness and isolation?

For ere she reach'd upon the tide

The first house by the water-side,

Singing in her song she died,

The Lady of Shalott.

What causes the Lady’s death? Can you think of any other examples of literary texts where singing and death are linked?

'The Lady of Shalott', Arthur Hughes (1873)

2. Write a Tennysonian stanza: ‘The Lady of Shalott’ has a distinctive rhyme scheme (AAAABCCCB). Ask students to compose a stanza of their own following this pattern – either on the subject matter of the story or on a topic of their choice.

Engaging with the poem’s structure in this creative way will be a much more memorable experience than simply learning to letter the lines. And, what’s more, it’ll help students start to think about rhymes in the poem that are less than perfect.

Does ‘barley’ really rhyme with ‘clearly’? Or ‘balcony’ with ‘by’?

'The Lady of Shalott', John William Waterhouse (1888)

3. Draw a mini-scene: Tennyson’s poem is awash with visual details, and every stanza tells a mini-story in itself. Give each student a stanza to illustrate. Examples could include:

The isle where the Lady lives where ‘Four gray walls, and four gray towers/Overlook a space of flowers’;

The reaper who thinks he hears a ‘fairy’, while working at the end of the day;

The Lady, alone in her tower (‘A pearl garland winds her head:/ She leaneth on a velvet bed,/ Full royally apparelled’);

The villagers watched by the Lady (‘surly village churls,/ And the red cloaks of market girls');

The appearance of Lancelot (‘All in the blue unclouded weather/ Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather,/ The helmet and the helmet-feather/ Burn'd like one burning flame together’).

'The Lady of Shalott looking at Lancelot', John William Waterhouse (1893)

4. Create a soundtrack: ‘The Lady of Shalott’ is divided into four Parts, each with a distinct mood and subject matter. Have your students imagine they were making the poem into a movie.

What songs/pieces of music would best accompany each section of the poem? Why? What if the movie was set in the twenty-first century?

'The Lady of Shalott', John Atkinson Grimshaw (1878)

If you teach ‘The Lady of Shalott’, I’d love to hear about how you inspire your class! Let me know – here, on Facebook or by tweeting @SVictorianist.

Review: Alice: 150 Years of Wonderland, Morgan Library & Museum, New York City

Today the Secret Victorianist fell down the rabbit hole at the Morgan Library & Museum in New York, visiting their special exhibition on the publication history of Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (1865), one of the most loved and enduringly popular novels in the English language.

One of Tenniel's illustrations

At the heart of the retrospective is a unique exhibit (on loan from the British Library) – the manuscript of Alice’s Adventures Under Ground that Dodgson (Carroll) gave to Alice Liddell (the inspiration for Alice) in 1864. This manuscript does not include some incidents that were to become central to Wonderland as we know it (for instance, the duchess whose baby is transformed into a pig), so is especially valuable in demonstrating the evolution of the text from an extempore oral narrative composed on a sunny day in Oxford to a published novel. The manuscript also contains Carroll’s original illustrations, before he turned to the talents of Punch cartoonist John Tenniel for his now iconic renderings of Alice.

Alice's Adventures Under Ground manuscript

The exhibition does a good job of interesting visitors in questions of bibliography – no doubt largely because of the highly visual focus. The illustrations, in various levels of completion, and from several different hands, serve as a beautiful guide to the evolution of a book – they alone tell the story how a tale born from the imagination of one man or a woman will be transformed by the influencers it meets on its journey to publication and beyond.

One of Tenniel's illustrations

Along with illustrations, early print editions, and the Under Ground manuscript, the exhibition also puts on show: personal items belonging to Alice Liddell at the time of the story’s conception, Dodgson’s correspondence pertaining to the publication of the text, other children’s books originating from the period, and some pieces of contemporary Alice-themed ephemera (my favourite was a Wonderland-styled biscuit tin). They also displayed scenes from the novel’s first film adaptation, in 1903 (inserted here).

The exhibition title had led me to think there might have been a greater emphasis on the text’s reception history further into the twentieth and the twenty-first centuries, but, while this is rich territory for discussion, (perhaps appropriately) it is not the focus at the Morgan. The early years of Wonderland give a fascinating glimpse into the publishing landscape of the mid-nineteenth century, appealing to any book-lover. So visit to discover how Carroll’s Alice was realised and became a milestone in children’s publishing, or for an accessible introduction to the study of bibliography.

First edition: Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

Alice: 150 Years of Wonderland is running until 11^th October 2015 at the Morgan Library and Museum. Entrance to the museum is $19 for adults.

The Morgan Library & Museum, New York

Do you know of any other NYC exhibitions you think the Secret Victorianist should review? Let me know – here, on Facebook or by tweeting @SVictorianist!