Archive for December 13, 2019

FAN MAIL WEDNESDAY #294: In Which Ryan and Harper Turn Me Into a Turkey Man!

 

A couple of letters arrived recently along with art work, always a bonus. Please take a gander at these portraits of yours truly. 

 

So, yeah, gobble-gobble. That’s me . . . as a turkey. The art projects tied into Thanksgiving, I presume. Look at my ankle in the bottom one. Must be sprained. And look at my nose-beak on the top one! 

Oh dear. Oh me, oh my. I can’t stop staring at these!

Here are the letters and, below that, my reply. 

 

 

Dear Ryan and Harper,

I’m combining my response in one letter because I received your artwork in the same envelope. I’ve included a copy for each of you, via snail mail, to bring home, where you can treasure it always or shove it in the back of your closet or, hey, both!

Just don’t let the hamster poop on it! That’s all I ask. 

So I’m looking at your artwork . . . and I’ll be honest.

I’m a little freaked out.

You’ve turned me into a Turkey Man.

I repeat: A TURKEY MAN!

Complete with beak and feathers and goatee and, in Harper’s case, a wattle!

If I’d ever wondered before what I’d look like with a wattle, well, now I know. At least that question has been answered once and for all.

And Ryan, thanks for those feathers. “Caring” is my favorite.

I was so delighted by your artwork, in fact, that I shared it on Facebook with my very close, intimate group of 1,000-plus “friends.” It was “liked” by more than 100 people and generated quite a few comments:

Padi said, “The likeness is uncanny.”

Larry said, “Spitting image.”

Liza asked, “Did you get a nose job?”

Sigh. These are, supposedly, my friends!

Anyway, and in all seriousness, awesome job, Ryan and Harper. Now, let’s see, you also wrote letters. Thank you for those, too.

Ryan, I appreciate your encouragement. I will keep writing! Honestly, it’s readers like you who make it all feel worthwhile.

Harper, thanks for reading the latest Jigsaw Jones book, The Case of the Hat Burglar. I’m so glad that the ending surprised you. Did you fall off your chair? That’s my goal. Someday I want to write a book with a surprise that’s so unexpected readers all over America fall off their chairs. Whoops, tumble, thunk!

Thank you both for your kind notes and artwork. I love them!

Your friend,

THE TURKEY MAN!

(James Preller)

P.S. My regards to your fabulous teacher, Ms. Lukingbeal. I visited Hudson, Ohio, not too long ago. It was a wonderful week of school visits. I even got to eat dinner with her! If you ask her, she might tell you that I pecked at my food.

Working on My Gratefulness: “Scary Tales” Given the Manga Treatment

Somehow I’m going to have to become a more positive person. This job, you know. It has so many beautiful, rewarding aspects to it. Yet it’s easy for me to fall down that rabbit hole of negativity. It’s how I roll. The good books that don’t sell. The rejections. The struggle to earn enough money. And on and on.

It’s all so dumb. I don’t control those things. All I can do is . . . the best I can do. What happens after that is beyond my grasp.

And sometimes — quite often, really — amazing things come back to me. Kind words. Fabulous partnerships with illustrators. School visits. Even awards, books that get recognized.

I think that’s it, actually. We all want to be seen. This is true in all aspects of life. In our work, in our relationships. “I see you.” I guess that’s the thing with awards and starred reviews and invitations to visit schools and fan letters. In those instances, the world says, “I see you.” It’s all we can ask.

One of the really fun things is when a book gets translated into different languages. I’ve been lucky to see some of my titles in French, German, Spanish, Arabic, Korean, and more. This is one of my favorites, a Japanese translation of a zombie story from my “Scary Tales” series. This kind of thing just mysteriously happens. Rights are sold, talented people get to work, and I don’t do a blessed thing.

So cool, right?

(Working on my gratefulness.)

About Those Teacher-Parent Conferences . . .

I enjoyed this cartoon from The New Yorker and so should you!

As a parent of three children and an attendee of these conferences, I ultimately wanted to know one thing: when the teacher talked about my kid, described various qualities and characteristics, I wanted to recognize that as, yep, that’s my kid. We were both talking about the same individual. And once we had that basic agreement — this teacher had an understanding of my child — I felt relieved and at ease. The rest was just stuff. 

In a nutshell: show me that you “get” my kid.