Madness Begets Madness

Today’s post features an impromptu critique session between me and my eight-year-old daughter. It arose after she decided to write a story about me during Art class and, as you’ll see, this little apple is actually a clone of her tree.

What follows is the digital reproduction and revision of a story my daughter handwrote in her “sketchbook” for second-grade Art class. I promise the original version has not been altered — except to address some minor grammar and spelling mistakes and to add some light formatting — and it’s being published here with my daughter’s enthusiastic permission.

Also, before you ask: yes, she showed it to her teacher and, no, I haven’t been contacted by Child Protective Services — yet.

Original Version

Title: [Untitled Masterpiece]

Once upon a time, when people were still civilized, there was a young boy who lived in Florida. He had a pretty good childhood fighting his friends with bamboo sticks and watching Jaws and The Running Man.

He grew up and married a wonderful woman named Felicia. Oh, by the way, the guy’s name is Amran.

Then they had a baby, and the baby was nice for maybe two seconds and then became the parents’ worst nightmare. Oh, and then they had anotherbaby, and now their life is ruined. But it was their choice, so don’t blame me.

And I’m one of their children, so I know what they’re like.

Dad’s Notes and Suggestions

Title: [Untitled Masterpiece]

Titles are tricky. You need to clearly and concisely communicate what your story’s about without being too vague. Who’s the focal point of your piece and what’s the hook for the reader? Address those questions and you’ll triangulate to an answer.

Once upon a time, when people were still civilized, there was a young boy who lived in Florida.

This is the best opening line since “Call me Ishmael.” I have no notes, nor have I ever written anything as effective. I love the contrast between classic and modern, and the voice — the voice! — pops off the page. Bravo.

He had a pretty good childhood fighting his friends with bamboo sticks and watching Jaws and The Running Man.

More excellent voice, but deadpan humor or sarcasm this early in the piece risks confusing the reader. I’d opt for a touch more clarity and lean into the efficiency of your natural voice.

He grew up and married a wonderful woman named Felicia.

Frankly, the plot here’s way too thin. He just “grew up” after watching The Running Man? What happened to this guy before he met Felicia? Expand the narrative and seize the opportunity to escalate the stakes and heighten the conflict.

Oh, by the way, the guy’s name is Amran.

Brilliant. This is pithy, sardonic, and totally unexpected. Love it.

Then they had a baby, and the baby was nice for maybe two seconds and then became the parents’ worst nightmare.

This is factually correct, but be careful about expanding the narrative scope too quickly. Is the story supposed to be about Amran? Amran and Felicia? The nightmare baby? Identify your protagonist and make sure to center the narrative around them.

Oh, and then they had another baby, and now their life is ruined.

If the first baby was the parents’ worst nightmare, why did they have another? Are these people simply morons, or is something else at play? Look for conflict and raise the stakes even higher. Again, you should also consider refocusing the lens on Amran, or expanding the narrative to encompass the entire dysfunctional family.

But it was their choice, so don’t blame me. And I’m one of their children, so I know what they’re like.

An incredible twist! Until “me” punched the reader right in the gonads, I was certain this story was written from a roving, third-person omniscient point-of-view. Saving the first-person reveal until the very end and submerging the “I” until the final sentence is a masterstroke. The reliability of the entire piece is immediately thrown into question and the reader is utterly mind-fucked.

In hindsight, it’s obvious this narrator is a malevolent sociopath who takes no responsibility for their actions and projects their own insecurities and fears onto others. This is wonderful stuff, which compels the reader to pay attention.

That said, why did the narrator conceal their identity for so long? It seems like they want to tell the reader something crucial about their parents, but the takeaway is obscured. Can you end the piece with more resonance? And perhaps more shock value?

Revised Version

I shared this exact feedback with my daughter, and she made the following revisions to her piece. I nudged her in places, of course, but she signed off on every word in the final version.

Behold the greatest story ever told on Field Research.

Title: The Mad and Sad Dad from Florida

Once upon a time, when people were still civilized, there was a young boy who lived in Florida. He had a “good” childhood battling friends with bamboo swords and watching movies like Jaws and The Running Man.

After escaping The Sunshine State, he earned a bunch of pointless degrees from overpriced colleges, worked a bunch of stupid jobs at evil companies, then finally did something useful when he married a wonderful woman named Felicia. Oh, by the way, the guy’s name is Amran.

The newlyweds were sort of young and definitely in love, so they had a baby, and the baby was nice for maybe two seconds before becoming Amran’s worst nightmare: a smarter, stronger, faster, scarier version of himself. Amran found being a dad challenging and exhausting, and he was very mad, and very sad. But Felicia wanted their first terrible baby to have a terrible playmate so, like idiots, they had another terrible baby.

Now their lives are in shambles.

But don’t blame me. See, they had a choice.

I didn’t ask to be born first.

I just know they deserve me.

Next Steps

I’m submitting this story to The New Yorker under my daughter’s name, and I’ve officially hired her as the ghostwriter for my next novel.

Now I can run that tax scam where I pretend my kids are employees and fund their IRAs to reduce my wife’s taxable income.