Writing hope for teens

Kiri Lightfoot, author of the young adult novel Bear, on how writing a book for teens reminded her how tricky the transition to adulthood can be.

I spent nearly a decade writing a novel for young adults. Yes, it took me that long. I started writing Bear when my first daughter was a toddler and didn’t finish it until she was thirteen. Parenting a teenager turned out to be the final puzzle piece I needed to complete the manuscript. Spending countless hours trying to step inside the mind of a 13 year old reminded me just how tough that age can be.

I didn’t write every day. The manuscript sat untouched on my desktop for years at a time, especially when life got busy. However, there was always a pull to finish this story, and Jasper, the protagonist, was always there too — nudging me to hurry up so he could move on with his fictional life. In Bear, Jasper has no one to share his catastrophic thoughts with, so he hides in a tree in his front yard to escape. A nightmare from his childhood has returned, and he can’t sleep because he fears it’s come to destroy him. I hope young readers will love his story—a tale about a thoughtful, often hilarious, young man facing his nightmare and everything it represents. And I hope that by the end, readers feel more hopeful as a result.

Anxiety levels among young people are at an all time high.

Writing this book reminded me of the overwhelming feeling of having so many emotions all at once, and at a time when life is asking a lot of you. External pressures, internal chaos. And that was just my experience as an average kid in the ’90s! The challenges facing today’s teens are even more complex—social media, online validation, bullying, the cost of living, questions of identity and self-worth, climate anxiety, global pandemics, and more. Anxiety levels among young people are at an all time high.

I’ve always had compassion for this age group. As a teenager myself, I trained to be a Youthline counsellor—perhaps unsurprising, given that my father and brother had both trained as counsellors. I spent a lot of time at Youthline House, first in Grafton and later in Ponsonby. That experience turned into years of volunteering in youth advocacy. I later transitioned into the arts, but those years stayed with me.

As I was writing Bear, I kept asking myself, What do I want to say? Many of the things I wanted to express found their way into the book. In some ways, I wrote Bear as a letter to all the young people I’ve spoken with. Their stories have stayed with me and even if I can’t recall names or details, they inspired Bear.

Often, when teenagers push adults away, they’re desperate to connect.

At the start of the book, Jasper feels alone. Writing about his journey reminded me of how painful loneliness can be, even in a big, busy school full of people. Jasper reminded me how crucial adults can be in the lives of young people who feel this way. Often, when teenagers push adults away, they’re desperate to connect. I learned this while working with youth in crisis—kids who had fought with their caregivers, felt let down, or were making choices they knew would upset their families. Deep down, they still longed for connection. When they didn’t have that, it was their greatest sadness.

Jasper didn’t need long lectures, inspiring speeches, or a step-by-step guide to fixing his problems. He needed someone to sit beside him, tell him he would be okay, and remind him that what he was feeling—while tough—would pass. He needed someone to reassure him that he was pretty awesome, even if he didn’t see it yet.

Be kind to others, but always be kind to yourself.

So, what did I want to say with Bear? First and foremost, I wanted to create a book that young people would want to read—one that would entertain them but also validate their feelings. I wanted Bear to be a book about hope. I want readers to know that if they are feeling stuck, their story will change. I want to say: Be kind to others, but always be kind to yourself. Believe in yourself. Live with courage. Yes, being human is complicated and sometimes messy, but there is magic out there, too. Please, hang in there through the tough parts. You never know what is coming your way.

So, I created Jasper so I could tell him all of this, too. Now he’s heading into the big world, and I hope his story also offers hope to readers—especially those who may not usually see themselves as readers. They were the ones I had in mind all along. So, thank you, Jasper. It’s hard to let you go, but I know I have to. It’s time you got on with your fictional future; I can’t write yours just as I can’t write my kids’ stories for them. They get to do that for themselves. But I’ll be on the sidelines, cheering them on (or sitting quietly next to them) reminding them they’ve got this.

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