1 Writers'' Gold Write what you know. It''s a good adage, and a manageable place to start. Many first novels are based on the author''s experiences, so take a look at what treasures are already stored in your vault. Before I was published (but after I had finally begun letting on to family that I was trying to be), an uncle of mine asked me how I thought I could possibly be a writer. "You''re too young to be a writer. You need more experiences." Gee, thanks. And yes, seeds of doubt can quickly grow into weeds in your garden of worthiness.

But here''s the reality: No matter how young you are, you have experiences. You have knowledge. You have feelings and observations and thoughts that are worthy of exploration. You can arrive at conclusions that will broaden the thinking of others, or just paint a picture of life from your perspective. It''s often the small stories with universal messages that touch us most deeply. We''re all humans, trying to find a way forward, longing for the place where we feel at home. My first published novel, How I Survived Being a Girl, was described as "Seinfeld for kids." What the reviewer meant was that it was a story about nothing, as the sitcom was famously called "a show about nothing.

" Having your book be considered to be about nothing could be deflating, but I took it as a huge compliment. I loved Seinfeld. And saying that it was a show about nothing was as true as saying that it was a show about everything. Seinfeld was about both. It captured the human experience with humor and heart-zinging authenticity. It was a show about people living small lives in small apartments in a big city. No special effects, no outrageous sets. Just little glimpses into the lives of people muddling along.

All of us have that--a story about nothing that''s actually about everything. No matter how ordinary your environment may seem to you, if your story can capture the human experience within it, others will relate. Don''t discount how extraordinary capturing the ordinary can be. And how difficult. You probably haven''t viewed it this way, but if you''re in school--as a student or as an educator--you are surrounded by writers'' gold. How a school works, the voices of the kids and the administrators, the rules and limitations, the curriculum and expectations . it''s all second nature to you. It''s workaday stuff, part of the grind.

But let''s turn that around. You have the background and details to write about a school environment naturally. The sights, the sounds, the smells, the mechanics of school life will flow from your fingertips. It''s easy for you! Do you know how many authors--especially kid-lit authors--would love to know what you know? Maybe they were in school once, but that was probably a long time ago. Things in education have changed. To get it right, they have to work at it, and work hard. Likewise, if you have a job--no matter how boring or ordinary you think it is--the way it works, the conversations in the employees'' lunchroom, how your associates relate to each other and the boss . it''s all gold.

If you''re a dog walker, a babysitter, a dishwasher, a law clerk, a trash collector . it''s all gold. And if you''re in a rough situation right now--turbulent home life, a bad neighborhood, even unemployed--turn it around. What you''re going through is hard and dark and frightening, but it''s also writers'' gold. Take notes. Document your experience any way you can. There are seemingly mundane details about your everyday life that will give a natural authenticity to your writing. It''s all gold.

So pay new attention to the ordinary around you. Find the story inside it. And find the human connection, because the best stories are the ones that touch our hearts. Love, longing, triumph . these can be small and personal, yet they''re universal desires. You don''t have to save the world. Just save your character. And at the heart of that character is you.

So no matter what your situation is or how young you are, you have enough to paint a story with words, to make others hear you, see you, feel you. Take a closer look at what you already know. What''s inside your heart? What''s inside your vault? It''s a really good place to start. 2 Out of the Ashes What turns a person into a writer? Sometimes the unexpected. I came to it from a place of anger and pain. Horrible stuff happened to my family when I was in college. An arsonist burned down our business--an industrial facility my immigrant parents had spent twenty years building--and then my father passed away unexpectedly six months later. We were devastated emotionally and financially, and our faith in justice was shaken to the core.

I''d jolt awake in the middle of the night relieved to have escaped a nightmare, only to realize, Oh, wait, no. That''s my life. Unable to go back to sleep, I started writing. Scrawling, really, about how unfair the world was, how it was so wrong that such bad things could happen to good people, how small and helpless and lost I felt to be in the middle of this disaster, how the Big Bads--the people who had destroyed the business--were out there, free from any consequence of their actions. I wouldn''t classify what I did as journaling. It was more slashing at the paper. I was alternately furious and heartbroken, or maybe both at once. I felt raw and deeply wounded, and the facts, my thoughts, my emotions poured out, oozed out, bled out.

I wrote and I wrote and I wrote. And it didn''t change a thing. The Big Bads were still at large, no one came back to life, and there was still ash where dreams had once stood. I started fantasizing about payback. Payback may be a bad idea, but the cornered, wounded animal doesn''t care. The cornered animal is desperate and primed to strike back. Fortunately, the weapon handy during my middle-of-the-night jolts into reality was a pen. Fortunately, I discovered that I could kill off my bad guys on paper.

And unexpectedly, this led me to the world of fiction, where you don''t have to stick to what really happened, where you can change the names of your bad guys a little, change the way things turn out a lot, and dole out payback that would land you behind bars if you tried it in real life. Torture, justice, murder . it was all available from the tip of a pen, no jail time required. So, no. I didn''t start writing with literary aspirations. I started writing because I needed to kill off some bad guys. Clearly, what I really needed was therapy. Turns out, writing is great therapy.

3 Putting Hope in the Mail The first novel I wrote was an epic clash of good and evil. Weighing in at 627 pages, it had thinly concealed names, caricatured players, and a very visible ax to grind. Yes, it was terrible. But I didn''t know that! I also didn''t know anything about publishing. Well, other than that most publishing houses were located in New York City. But now I needed to know! I had a masterpiece to place! This was before you could query editors or agents or submit samples online. I got some preliminary information about the submission process by reading back issues of Writer''s Digest magazine, then went to the library, checked out a book called Literary Market Place, perused it for friendly-sounding names, and started shopping my manuscript. Compelling query letter--check! Self-addressed stamped envelope--check! Ignore the no-multiple-submissions rule because who has time for that?--check! Not a great (or even good) strategy.

And (displaying compounded ignorance here) I was also under the common misconception that getting a book published meant becoming an instant millionaire. Consequently, I thought that placing my manuscript would bring an end to my family''s financial troubles. Or, at least, help out considerably. So, yeah. Therapy and financial need. These were the forces fueling me. But then a strange thing happened. Each time someone in New York would agree to take a look at my full manuscript, I''d make a copy of it, box (yes, box) it up, and stand in line at the post office.

And as I moved forward in the line, my heart would beat a little faster and I would tell myself that this was it. This editor was going to read and love my story. This editor was going to send me a million bucks and my family''s financial troubles would be solved. And when it was my turn at the counter, I''d give the box a quick kiss for luck, pay the postage, and walk away with a little spring in my step. Outside, the world felt renewed with possibility. Things were going to change! We were not defeated. Hope was in the mail. 4 Today Could Be the Day I put hope in the mail for ten years.

Actively and persistently, I sent out manuscripts and queries, and for ten years I was actively and persistently rejected by editors and agents in New York. The rejection slips were usually generic--some version of We''re sorry. This is not right for us at this time. But please think of us again with your next project. I shoved the slips inside a drawer. Over time, they filled the drawer. I moved them into a box. Over time, they filled the box.

You''d think I''d have taken the hint: I didn''t have what it took to be published. So why did I keep trying? Looking back, I think it had a lot to do with keeping hope in the mail. As my first manuscript was making the rounds in New York, I began working on.