Writing for Middle-grade: What you're taught and what you know

Okay, so I wrote a middle-grade novel about a boy who is overweight and getting bullied.  He becomes a hero by solving a mystery and his opinion of himself goes up several notches.  He even gets kissed by a girl he never thought would look at him.

I revised and revised and revised at the suggestion of writers and excellent published professors, all who urged me to tone it down, be nice, get to the mystery, get rid of the tone of violence, etc.  Then an agent told me it isn't "gritty" enough.  You know what?  She's right.

I talked to a teenager last night and asked him to tell me what it was like to be fat (He is now 6'4" and plays tennis.  He isn't svelt, but he sure isn't fat.).  He didn't say much at first.  As a matter of fact he sounded a lot like my book -- kind of non-committal.  But the longer the conversation went on, the tougher I interviewed him, the more I heard that being fat was a nightmare.  It wasn't nice to be insulted and made fun of, but it was worse when people tried to help by telling him he had to do something about it.  He got the message but didn't really know how to change things, and no one consistently did anything with him that would make a difference.  He sat in front of the TV and ate frozen dinners and all kinds of snacks while his parents worked and told him not to leave the house.  He didn't see his weight as something he could control but rather as something that was "wrong with him."  He didn't think people would like him because he didn't like himself.  And he was mad.  He didn't say  he was mad, but he was.  When someone suggested he eat less or eat better or work-out or turn off the TV he would just look at the floor and be quiet, but inside he wanted to hit something, or better yet, hit them.  People talked but no one did, and he didn't see his way clear to helping himself until he was older. 

So -- my "nice guy" is very poorly portrayed.  If I want this book to speak of hope to chubby kids stuck in the house with bad food while parents work or go out or concentrate on younger siblings, I have to write about the anger, the hurt, the self-loathing and that awful sense of hopelessness.  It can't be a "nice" book.  Even if parents don't want to know how violent nice kids can feel, the kids already know and aren't going to want it glossed over.  They know the truth.

I asked him if there was anything I could put in the book that would actually be helpful.  He said maybe if the kid is older, more mature, more ready to come to grips with his own power.  I disagree there.  I write books about kids who worked for a living on farms and in coal mines at the age of seven or just a little older.  Those kids weren't too immature to come to grips.  Those kids grew up youger and knew they could take charge of things even if it wasn't by choice.  Sometimes I think they were lucky even if they did have more responsibility and less opportunity.  At least they didn't have to feel like they couldn't change things for themselves. 

So, Charles DuBois solves a mystery, and that is good.  But life sucks, and that isn't good.  Sugar coating the situation might make adults more comfortable with what's happening to their kids, but it won't help the kids who are dealing with the real issue. 

I do think the book should stick with the positive message -- the one that says Charlie is valuable.  The one that says he understands what hurt is and doesn't want to inflict it on other people who are in equally hopeless situations.  And I want to keep all the other stereo types that get exposed for the nonsense they are:  kids from cities are bad, teenagers are violent, fat boys aren't dateable, old people are good, smart or pretty or cool kids feel secure and are never lonely.  The book has all kinds of things that are well done but the main character, that wonderful hero of our story, isn't portrayed honestly at all.  He isn't enough of a coward or enough of a hero.  He isn't angry enough to be real.  He isn't honest about his situation and how he sees himself.  The tone isn't dark enough, the teasing isn't vicious enough, his inner thoughts aren't nearly violent enough.

Adults buy books for kids.  Middle-grade kids buy books for themselves.  They do need a message of hope and acknowledgement but they don't need something so deep and personal to be glossed over.

I will, however, consider the possibility of making Charlie older -- not because only older kids can change things, but because 1.) kids like the protagonist to be someone they would like to be and they would like to be older than they are, and 2.) because maybe if Charlie is older the message will be distant enough so that the 12 year old chubby kid reading it won't throw it in a pile with all the self-help books well-meaning adults gave them.  Maybe they'll see Charlie, that strong kid who does get kissed and solve a mystery and make friends with the cool guy, as someone they want to and can be. And maybe if he's distant enough I can have him grow an inch or see a change of some type from rowing and swimming and hiking through the woods, and maybe, just maybe, they'll find a little hope without being preached at, insulted or lectured.

I'm not sure. What I am sure of is that the protagonist being fat gives me an obligation to be honest, with him and with myself, and with every kid that picks up the book. And I'm sure it can't just all be "nice."  Feeling bad about yourself isn't nice.

Actually, I've already figured out how to do this without making him older.  After all, the dialogue is good and age appropriate.  What I will do is have Salvo, my mean little cool guy, point out that he can't do anything about being short.  He wishes his problem was fixable, like being fat.  It's tough to be a kid.  But then kids, in Charles DuBois and in real life, are very, very cool.