In the last few weeks I've been talking about writing for the pure love of writing, not as a career, and then I turned to asking what it takes to make a career, beyond serendipity, which is usually one of the most important ingredients. Today, as promised, I'm going to talk about the unglamorously hard work required to make a living as a writer.

It starts with all I've been talking about, sitting down to write with consistency. And that begins with defining your writing as your work, because nothing has more respect in our society than work. "Sorry, I can't do that today. I have to work." If you are going to make a career of writing, it must be your work even if you have another job that requires your attention. And you--first, above everyone else--need to give your writing the kind of respect you would give any job.

Simply writing, just doing it, is the first step toward learning to write well. But it is possible to write consistently without ever improving. You need to discover what you do well and where you need to grow. Exchange manuscripts with other writers. Take classes. Enroll in an MFA in Writing program, if such a deep commitment is possible for you. Find critics who care about juvenile literature and have insight into what makes it work, whether they are writers themselves or not, and listen to what they have to say. Stay away, equally, from those who think that anything is good enough for kids and from those who think everything you put on the page is fantastic. Seek true critics, people who want more from you than what you managed to get down on the page the first time. But seek kind critics, those who give you meaningful support.

Perhaps above all else, learn how to rewrite . . . and to rewrite and to rewrite and to rewrite. Learn even to love to rewrite. Not just to polish each time you read through, though there will be plenty of that, but learn to let go, to rethink and start again as often as needed. I have worked with hundreds of developing writers over the years, many of whom are every bit as talented or more talented than I. I have found few, however, who are as willing to return to and rethink a manuscript as I am, who are willing to weigh not just every word but every idea, again and again and again. That kind of commitment to revision is the too-obvious secret of good writing.

Finally, a career writing for young people begins with reading, lots of reading. Every now and then, in my years of teaching, I've had someone show up in a class saying, "I want to write something for kids because everything that's out there is junk and I know I can do better." Anyone who thinks everything out there is junk is reading only junk. (It exists in every field.) Or more likely, I suspect, not reading at all.

The field of children's and young-adult literature is rich and deep and varied. Extremely varied. And you will never find your place in it if you don't know what the place is that you seek to fill. Read. Read and read and read. And read serious critics of juvenile literature, too. You don't have to agree with every critic every step of the way, but holding your ideas up against theirs will help you to form your own opinions beyond "this is what I like." What works for you as a reader? What doesn't? Why?

It's foolish to write hoping to be published without knowing what the market wants, what is being heralded by the critics, what is selling in the bookstores. (The two may be--and often are--quite different.) But it is even more foolish to focus on the market instead of your own heart.  Know what's out there and then set what you know aside. Write the book you yourself most want to read.