How to steal a speedboat

Or, in other words: kidlit writing tips

Our Illoguild question this month is, ““How do you do what you do?”
My answer: Have I ever told you about the time I stole a speedboat when I was a kid?

It was the mid-late 80s. My grandmother owned a small cottage in an even smaller town in Maine. I’m the youngest of four children, and our family of six would pile in the car and drive five hours North from Boston every summer to spend two glorious weeks in this cramped paradise. When things got loud, my dad frequently referenced the book, “It Could Always Be Worse” on these trips.

But what the cottage lacked in size, it more than made up for in location. It was right on the water, with a gorgeous view of Cadillac Mountain and Acadia National Park. The rocky shore provided endless hours of outdoor fun. I had a rocky outcropping that served as my “office” where I would paint rocks for the neighborhood and “take orders” for my “products”. I could carefully lift seaweed and peek under the wet strands, bothering the clicking crabs. At low tide the ocean pulled back its waves, revealing a dark carpet of mussel fields and the stage for our crime scene: the public boat launch.

One morning, my two older brothers and I, along with Ryan, the boy who lived across the street, stole his grandmother’s speedboat. It was early and still a bit dark. We pushed the boat quietly down the road, onto the beach and rolled it onto the boat launch. I can still remember the feel of my hands on the lip of the boat as we all pushed, trying not to be too loud. We didn’t want to get caught! Then we had done it: freedom! Off we went into the big blue ocean.

We each took turns steering the boat. Laughing and arguing over whose turn was next. At one point a curious seal came to see what we were doing and we waved and tried to follow it for a while. A real seal! This city girl was enamored. Eventually we came to a small island and pulled the boat ashore.

Then, we were explorers! Off, climbing rocks, collecting shells, investigating tide pools, skipping rocks, inventing whatever games came to mind. When we wanted to go back to the boat, though, the tide had changed, and our route had closed off. We were stuck without food or water. And this was the 80s, so no calling for help.

If we couldn’t go back around the island, maybe we could go over. One of the boys decided we should climb the cliff face to the top and then climb back to the other side. That climb was one of the hardest physical things I’ve ever done. I remember slipping and thinking I was going to die. We were idiots, but when we made it over (past “no tresspassing” signs, which really scared me) we ended up not getting seriously injured somehow so we all thought we were brave and strong and invincible.
Kids, amiright?

When we got back, my parents were furious! And my sister (the oldest, who did not go with us) was smug for being the only one to not get yelled at. But, I had stolen a boat and had an adventure. I was ready for another.

I’ve been telling this story for years. Years! It’s been a classic “meeting new friends” party tale. It’s a part of my identity. When I play D&D, my favorite character to play is always a thief. As a child I had stolen a speedboat. I could do anything. And I was so cool. A rebel. A risk taker.

My aunt now owns that tiny cottage on the water, and a couple of years ago, my parents sold their house in the city and have relocated to this same small town in Maine for retirement. On a trip to visit them last year, I brought up the speedboat heist. Imagine my surprise when they looked at each other and then back at me and said, “We remember that day, but you never stole that speedboat. Ryan’s grandmother was with you the whole time. Yes, you got separated from her on the island and were back hours later than we thought and yes we were angry. But you never stole it.”

I was crushed. What did they mean I never stole a speedboat?! How could that be true?

We all laughed a lot. I mean, of course sadly it’s true. My older brothers would have never invited their baby sister, and they definitely would have never let me take a turn driving the boat. There had to have been an adult there! But, my kid brain had blocked out the adult and replaced them with memories of being independent, daring and adventurous (which was partly true).

But, the point of this post is not to tell you I’m a liar liar pants on fire, but to let you know, “How I do what I do.” and I want to illustrate that this is a great writing exercise for writing for kids! Kids want to be the heroes. They want adventure, danger, peril, high stakes and to come out feeling brave and like they *could* have stolen a speedboat.

I’ll invite you all to do a writing challenge with me: think of a childhood memory. One you’ve told to other people at parties or to a new partner when you’re getting to know each other. Write it down. If there is someone in your life who was also there, share the story with them. Do they remember it the same way? What’s their side of the story? Try to gather as many sides of the story as you can. Identify the emotions, the specificity, create the character of the central kid in the story. Create additional character traits from those who contributed the other sides of the story. Perhaps these core memories will inspire a new story, but most importantly they’ll help you tell a story that is kid-relatable.

Looking for more tips? My illoguild friends have a lot more to say on this topic:
http://illoguild.substack.com

Thanks for reading! Do you have tips to share on how you write for kids? Drop them in the comments!