Tag Archive for Jigsaw Jones

Jigsaw Jones Shares His “Simple Trick” for Solving Puzzles

“I’ve never met a puzzle
I couldn’t solve.”

 

Image is phone capture from THE CASE FROM OUTER SPACE, illustrated by R.W. Alley.

 

Everyone seems to be doing puzzles these days. Stores are sold out, orders are backlisted, as families gather around the table and drive themselves insane enjoy time together. There’s a midpoint stage in every puzzle when you’d swear that the cat has eaten three missing pieces or there’s an obvious manufacturer’s defect. How does one persevere through the tough times? I decided to ask an expert. 

Here’s Jigsaw Jones himself, from page 2, The Case from Outer Space:

I was standing at my dining room table, staring at a 500-piece jigsaw puzzle. It was supposed to be a picture of our solar system. The sun and eight planets. But right now it was a mess. Scattered pieces lay everywhere. I scratched my head and munched on a blueberry Pop-Tart. Not too hot, not too cold. Just right. As a cook, I’m pretty good with a toaster. I began working on the border, grouping all the pieces that had a flat edge. Sooner or later, I’d work my way through the planets. The rust red of Mars. The rings of Saturn. And the green tint of Neptune. I’ve never met a puzzle I couldn’t solve. That’s because I know the secret. The simple trick? Don’t give up.

Don’t ever give up. 

FAN MAIL WEDNESDAY #298: Request From a Teacher Who Wants to Read Online to Her Class

 

I’m sharing this letter from a 2nd-grade teacher since I know it’s representative of what’s going on out there for so many parents and educators. 

 

Good evening! 
I’m a second grade teacher in Harpers Ferry, West Virginia. My class has been reading some of your Jigsaw Jones books and I was wondering if I could have permission to create, maybe You Tube, a video that my students can access at home. Or, if you have another idea I am welcome to it! We are on chapter 9 of The Case of the Stolen Baseball Cards but I’d probably have to start at the beginning since it’s been over a week since we have been in school. 
We’ve already read The Case of Hermie the Missing Hamster and hope to read The Case of the Race Against Time next.
Thanks so much for your support!

Lori,

I replied . . . 
Lori,

Illustration by R.W. Alley from Jigsaw Jones: The Case of the Hat Burglar.

Thank you for your email. You are doing valuable work, and I appreciate the request. Yes, emphatically, by all means, read and share and keep doing what you do.

The only request I have, suggested by my publisher, is that you delete the videos once school is back in session.
My best to you. Stay smart, stay safe, protect the vulnerable.
With love in my heart (I’m growing extra-sappy in these times).
And again, I feel very strongly that I’m the one who should be thanking you.
James Preller

The Case of the Hat Burglar: A Visit to the Lab of Reginald Pinkerton Armitage III

Here’s the setup for this short excerpt: somebody has been taking items from the school’s “Lost & Found,” but no worries, Jigsaw Jones and Mila are on the case. However, they can’t possibly keep a watchful eye on the crime scene all day long. So they pay a little visit to Jigsaw’s old pal, Reginald Pinkerton Armitage III, a dapper lad who dabbles in gadgets and gizmos.

Now I’m a writer who loves process, especially the particular alchemy performed by illustrators when they turn rough sketches into final art. Here’s R.W. Alley’s sketch of the scene in Reggie’s lab:

If you are getting a James Bond-visits-Q vibe, you are on the right track. I’m paying tribute to that character and those old movies that I liked as a kid. 

From the book:

A while back, Reginald had started his own “secret agent” business. It didn’t work out so well. He thought being a detective would be fun, a chance to play with fancy gadgets and gizmos. But Reginald learned that solving mysteries could be a rough business. It took hard work and brainpower. Reggie was a nice kid, but he was as tough as a silk pillow. He promised I could borrow his gadgets anytime.

Today, I needed him to keep that promise. 

Reginald pushed open a door, then said over his shoulder to Mila, “Please come into my research room.”

I’d been here once before. The room looked like a laboratory. Various objects had been placed on marble countertops. “This is all your spy equipment?” Mila asked.

She picked up an old boot.

It was a mistake I’d once made myself. “Be careful, Mila,” I warned.

Sploinnng! A suction cup attached to a spring popped out of the shoe.

“Whoa,” Mila said, jumping back in surprise.

“Suction-cup boots,” Reginald explained. “For walking on ceilings.”

“It really works?” Mila asked.

Reginald shrugged and admitted, “I’m afraid to find out.”

Mila picked up two plastic goldfish. “What are these?”

“Underwater walkie-talkies,” Reginald explained.

“Glub, glub,” I commented — for no reason at all.

“And this?” Mila pointed to a tray of cucumber sandwiches. “Let me guess. Is it some kind of secret listening device?”

“No, it’s a tray of cucumber sandwiches,” Reginald said. “For snack time.”

“Cucumber sandwiches, yum,” I groaned. It was the last thing in the world I’d want to eat. I was a peanut-butter-and-jelly kind of guy. “Sadly, Reggie, we don’t have time for snack. We’re here on business.”

 

And here’s how it all looks in the book across two pages . . . and yes, I’m blessed to have R.W. Alley illustrating these books. 

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.

REVISION: Jigsaw Jones & Those Pesky Phones!


I was recently given the opportunity to revise four more previously published Jigsaw Jones books. Now there are 12 updated titles available from Macmillan — books that had gone out of print over the past five years or so — in addition to two all-new titles (14 in all). The books I revised weren’t ancient, generally around 15 years old, and I knew the stories were solid. Of course, there are things I’d want to change about every book, even on the first day of publication. What’s the old adage? “Books are never completed, only abandoned.” They can always be better. So it was a welcome pleasure to go back, improve what I could, try again.

One striking aspect reflected in these books is the profound change in our phones — and how deeply those new gadgets have transformed our lives. I was born in 1961. But until the advent of the personal cell phone, my childhood experience with phones was fairly standard for decades. In most homes, there was one phone number, one phone, maybe an extension or two. A line in the kitchen and another in the family room. Later on, a few fancy parents even had phones in their bedrooms. Usually all the same number. All calls came in and out through that central brain. In my house, the phone would ring, somebody would rush to it expectantly, listen a moment, then shout out in a teasing voice, “Barbara! It’s for you . . . and it’s a boy!”

It was a form of home security. Everybody in the house knew what was up. Strange callers had to get through a least one checkpoint. Many of us remember those teenage calls when a difficult parent answered the phone. It went something like this . . .

Mr. Flynn: Hello, Flynn residence.

JP: Is Rosie home?

Mr. Flynn: To whom am I speaking? 

JP: Oh, yeah, er, hi, Mr. Flynn. It’s Jimmy. Is Rosie home?

Mr. Flynn: She is.

JP: [pause] Um, can I talk to her?

Mr. Flynn: You can.

JP: [longer pause] I mean, may I talk to her? Speak with her? Can she come, may she come, is there any way I can —

Mr. Flynn: We’re about to sit down for dinner. Rosie will call you later, after she’s finished her homework. Click.

 

Consider for a moment all the information that was conveyed in that brief, awkward exchange. Mr. Flynn was not only aware that a boy was calling for his daughter, he actually spoke with that boy, got a sense of his manners and intelligence. He also managed to maintain a degree of control, “Rosie will call you later.” The gatekeeper. Today we talk about the loss of privacy, but the reverse is also true: sometimes there’s far too much privacy. Today a 10-year-old with her own phone has all sorts of communications and access to the internet without any family involvement whatsoever. No idea! Anyway, that’s a huge topic and not the purview of this post.

Mostly I want to say: Look at those phones, what a transformational shift in our family lives. Note: for the revisions, we deleted those dated images and I reworked the text accordingly.

 

Sidenote: I just read yet another article about the latest phone horror in a local high school. Young men making secret videos in school without consent, posting them on the internet, accomplished in the blink of an eye — a felony offense with devastating impacts on multiple students. There are articles like this everyday. These new phones are small miracles — but powerful and addictive. We hand them to 9-year-olds on their birthdays, and they only wonder what the heck took so long. 

Sidenote 2: I fear all this makes me look like an old coot, “Back in my day!” But that’s my reality. I remember how it was, and naturally compare it to how we live today. I found it interesting to see those changes reflected so clearly — and so quickly — in the relatively short time covered by this book series.

Sidenote 3: I love my phone, don’t get me wrong. But I’m also afraid of it.