Archive for the writing process

“Bad Decisions Makes Good Stories” — But Not Always!

October 12, 2026 / / 2 comments

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I’ve been watching one of my favorite shows, “Slow Horses,” now in it’s 6th season. I’m waiting for the 5th episode. And, yes, I love the BBC 6-episode approach to a full season. Just the right length; all killer, no filler. 

SPOILER ALERT.

Anyway, I’ve been frustrated with parts of this season (and judging by the reviews I’ve seen, I may be the only person to feel this way).

I keep thinking about the maxim, “Bad decisions make good stories.” Every writer learns this one early on. 

We all understand it. Perfect characters are perfectly dull (and unlikeable). When characters fall short, we identify with them, their foibles make them real. Plus, the bad decisions often lead to conflict, raising the stakes, and open the door to redemption arcs. 

But I have to say that I intensely dislike it when otherwise smart characters make incredibly dumb decisions. That’s not good storytelling, that’s lazy and annoying. And it’s even more annoying when that stupid decision is completely out of character. 

“Slow Horses,” I’m looking at you. 

Part of the appeal of this show, or just about any crime drama, is watching smart characters figure it out. We see that consistently with Jackson Lamb. He’s very, very good at spy craft. His brain is his greatest weapon. We see an old episode of “Columbo” with Peter Falk and it’s a delight to watch this guy, sloppy and easy to underestimate, pick apart an alibi. (Lamb and Columbo have a lot in common, btw, where the outward presentation belies the brilliance below the surface). 

So why am I so annoyed? Because River and Sid are incredibly lame as they try to evade two lethal Russian assassins. Every time they escape, they seem to put down their guard and . . . forget they are being chased by assassins? At one point, after barely surviving, they are walking smack down the middle of a dark street talking about whatever. Bickering, or something. And then headlights crest the hill and — oh, gosh, it’s those pesky Russian assassins again. So they run! Do they run into the woods? No. They run right down the middle of the street. What the holy hell?

Fortunately, they are saved by Coe. Then they go to make a phone call in an arcade. Coe goes off to play video games, River sulks and watches Sid makes a phone call. And lo, here come the Russian assassins again! Why is this a surprise? Wouldn’t they want to be vigilant in some way? Watch the door, maybe? Because there are two heavily-armed assassins trying to kill them!!! Wouldn’t that put you on the alert?

Coe decides to take on one of the assassins by himself, in a bathroom, with only a knife as his weapon. He doesn’t know anything about this assassin, not his skills, not his abilities, not his strength. But he makes this incredibly unnecessary, misguided decision because . . . he’s an idiot? Or because it will (supposedly) make for good television? Again, they’ve opted to serve the gods of Action over the gods of Good Sense. 

Yes, bad decisions. But also, bad spies. Awful at their work. Sure, it all leads to dramatic scenes. Running and jumping, explosions, terrible shooting (insanely bad shooting). The bad decisions serve the “action” gods, but do nothing for the intellect, which is, I would contend, the real appeal of spy craft. 

I get that River is flawed, imperfect. Those traits make him appealing, a guy (like us!) to root for. But please, let’s stop short of making him a blithering idiot.

At least we have Lamb to make things right. 

 

 

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Category: Current Events, the writing process / Tags: , , , , , , , ,

On Beatrix Potter: Soporific!

August 24, 2026 / / No comments

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I’ve been slowly rereading my collection of Beatrix Potter, utterly charmed and impressed. I’m taking my time to extend the pleasure. They don’t make books like these anymore. It might be interesting to try to puzzle out why that’s true, but we’ll leave that for another day and for, yes, Bigger Brains than mine.

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There’s so much to learn from Potter, so much to admire, though it makes me wistful to experience anew the loss of her talent — a nostalgic sense of how things used to be but are no longer.

Anyway, these are great books that seem as if they were beamed down from some other, more magical planet. 

Here’s the opening spread from The Tale of the Flopsy Bunnies:

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There’s so much to say about Potter’s excellent work, but on this one page, three sentences, I’d like to focus on two things.

First, this is a fine example of how to introduce new, difficult words to young readers. Not to avoid that language, but to support the reader in the process. True fact: This is actually how I first learned “soporific,” when I read this book long ago as a new father. But notice what she does here: I have never felt sleepy . . .

(And notice, too, how I borrowed here italicization of “I,” a nice bit of emphasis.)

Potter gives us the meaning in the best way possible. She doesn’t stop (or stoop) to explain, doesn’t talk down to the reader. She provides the context clue that helps an attentive reader easily understand. Wonderful.

In addition, as a fan of William Steig — who also commonly used language that was above-level — I believe that these new, big, challenging words can actually draw readers into the story. Rather than slowing them down or breaking the magic, these big words can add a sense of mystery and allure. There’s something otherworldly about them. Intriguing. 

The love of language itself. 

Secondly, notice the writer’s voice. I once had an editor tell me that voice was the single  most important thing when looking at new manuscripts. She said that as an editor, she could help fix a lot of problems: tighten the plot, deepen the characterization, even help when the writing goes astray. But voice was the thing she couldn’t teach, couldn’t correct. Without a strong voice — the sound of the writing, the tone and personality of the writer — there was little she could do. Because it was only everything.

Read that page through again. The connection between writer and reader is immediate. Someone is speaking directly to us. There’s warmth there, and interest, and our attention is grabbed. Not by a car crash or some other dramatic event; we are captivated by the almost confidential, casual tone of this storyteller. By the words themselves. It feels like we are listening to an older family member recounting over dinner a marvelous experience. It’s as if the writer was somehow miraculously making eye contact with the reader. Gather round, children, to hear my tale. We tuck in at the kitchen table and listen up, knowing this will be good.

And so alone in a room, surrounded by distractions, we turn the page.

There are endless examples of this throughout Potter’s books. The tone, the unique conspiratorial vibe.

Let me tell you a story . . . 

I’ll leave you with a page from The Tale of Jemima Puddle-Duck:

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“She set off on a fine spring afternoon along the cart-road that leads over the hill. She was wearing a shawl and a poke bonnet.”
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Delightful.
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But what is to come when silly Jemima, without a practical bone in her body, arrives over the hill?
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I can’t adequately explain why I love that so much. Especially that clear, simple sentence, the aside, “She was wearing a shawl and a poke bonnet.” Once again we learn that a sentence doesn’t have to work that hard. It doesn’t have to have “look at me” flourishes that demonstrate craft and skill and a “mastery” over language by an egotistical author. No, the sentence just needs to help tell the story. Deliver the information and get out of the way. She was wearing a shawl and a poke bonnet.
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Often the job of a sentence is not to be admired, but to disappear. To simply leave us at the beginning of the next sentence. 
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By the way: Don’t know what a poke bonnet looks like? See the illustration on the facing page. That’s another way we help readers along. 
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The older I get, the more I appreciate and admire restraint. 
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Category: Readings, the writing process / Tags: , , , , , ,

It’s Official! (But Whatever Happened to That Hat?)

August 7, 2026 / / One comment

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Somewhere between the first blush of inspiration and the final published book, there’s “the announcement.”

Agents, in particular, love the announcement. It’s the best advertisement they can feature. Because if you can sell a James Preller book, you can sell anything!

This ran in PW, I believe. As an author, I’m firmly in the camp that doesn’t particularly follow “the business.” I can see how having a handle on what sells and what’s hot can be good information. But, yeah, I’m not really into “industry news.”

I do, to varying degrees, at different times, try to stay abreast of the best books.

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The folks at PW have been using this old photo — gotta be 15 years old at least — in every announcement. Boy, do I miss that hat! It was a wonder! It used to sit right on top of my actual head!

And, yes, that actual head is a little weather-beaten these days. The Irish eyes have gotten smaller, the lips thinner, the hair grayer. The whole thing just, collectively, worse. Such is life.

So, yeah, fine. Keep using that ancient photo, folks!

Nonetheless, here is the latest nugget of good news. I’m very impressed by illustrator Fred Blunt, though I’ve only seen the process that led us to the cover. He has a loose, energetic style that feels just right for the story. It’s actually a little book about verbs but it’s been decided, probably wisely, not to tell readers that.

“Hey, Kids! I know you’ve all been clamoring for more books about Parts of Speech!” 

Maybe keep that on the down low. 

Anyway, I’m very glad to be publishing again for emergent readers. I first broke out in 1994 with Hiccups for Elephant and Wake Me In Spring, and I’ve long had a special affection for the easy-to-read genre. Tricky to write, or to get right, and the pay isn’t great. Now with my “. . . and a Moose!” series — the third book is coming out in 2027, Two Astronauts and a Moose — I feel like I have some good, new, inexpensive books on school visits for the PreK-K crowd o go along with the new “Bigfoot and Dodo” series, Jigsaw Jones, Scary Tales, the upcoming “Survival Code” books, plus the assortment of middle-grade titles I’ve done over the years: Blood Mountain, Bystander, etc. 

Just wait until you see my upcoming picture book, What Dogs Don’t Know. I’m really, really happy with that one! Illustrated by Laura Sandoval.  That’s coming in 2027, too.

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Category: the writing process / Tags: , , , , , , ,

Slime Time: There Will Be Math!

August 4, 2026 / / No comments

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Today I handed in my first draft & story map for an upcoming Choose-Your-Own-Adventure, tentatively titled, The Slime Machine. I believe it’s scheduled for Fall, 2027. 

You’d think that writing a book would involve words, not numbers, but ho-ho-ho. Where’d you ever get that silly idea? Without a map, confusion would reign and chaos would follow. 

This is the 3rd book I’ve done with the good people at Chooseco. And you’d probably assume that I’d know what I was doing by this point, but oh boy, not really! Every book is a puzzle and it’s not uncommon for me to write myself into a corner.

It reminded me of a scene from another new book coming out in 2027 (Simon & Schuster, February), Bigfoot and Dodo: Together at Last! At this point in the story, Dodo is tasked with painting the floor.

I’ve already given a hint as to how that ends up . . .

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Together at Last! was co-written with the very funny, very supportive Audrey Vernick, and illustrated by French punk rock artist, Joelle Dreidemy. What a team!

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Category: Bigfoot & Dodo, the writing process / Tags: , , , , , ,

INTRODUCING . . . the “Bigfoot & Dodo” Series!

July 20, 2026 / / 2 comments
Books take forever and the waiting is *not* the hardest part.
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Just for fun, Audrey Vernick and I started writing together about 10 years ago — we bonded over our love of James Marshall’s “George and Martha” books. We worked on and off and, though we finished more than a dozen stories, never succeeded in getting anything published. Sometimes we took breaks; sometimes we got newly energized, moving in unexpected directions. We laughed and learned as we went. About our craft and about each other. And after a long while, it became clear we’d probably never get anything published together. Just wasn’t in the cards. And it truly didn’t matter. Because in the process, we became really good friends. I’m crazy about Audrey & grateful she puts up with me.
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And then one day, out of the blue, we were offered a three-book contract in a new format for us, a marriage between an early reader and a graphic novel. The first book comes out in February, the day after my 66th birthday. It is hilariously illustrated by Joëlle Dreidemy, who is exactly the French punk-rock illustrator our project needed.
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As Basho wisely wrote, “The journey itself is home.”
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The journey has been more than enough. We never needed to “get there.” There will be no massive paychecks. But I’m so glad we’ll get a few books out of the trip!
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OFFICIAL INFO ABOUT THE TITLES from Simon & Schuster . . .
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>> Star Chapter Books are the perfect bridge for kids moving beyond beginning readers but not yet ready for longer chapter books. With short chapters, bold two-color illustrations, and fast-paced, funny stories, these confidence-building books make reading fun and rewarding.
Meet Bigfoot, a real-live bigfoot! Meet Dodo, a real-live dodo bird. That’s right—two creatures thought not to exist!
But these two kooky characters make for a daffy and delightful duo who discover the only way to feed their endless love of cupcakes is to find gainful employment, a.k.a. a job! Who will ever hire this hairbrained pair?
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Each Star Chapter Book is 112 pages long, divided into six to eight short chapters with illustrated panels on every page to keep kids engaged from start to finish. This highly visual early chapter book format supports the transition from leveled readers to chapter books, making Star Chapter Books a perfect fit for independent reading, classroom libraries, or shared story time. <<
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Category: Bigfoot & Dodo, the writing process / Tags: , , , , , , , ,
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