Tag Archive for Matthew Cordell

A Conversation with Travis Jonker: Librarian, Podcaster, Instagram Star, Children’s Book Influencer, and Author of BLUE FLOATS AWAY

Maybe you know someone like Travis Jonker. He’s a popular podcaster, and a blogger, an Instagram star, an elementary school librarian, and an acclaimed author. In his spare time, he probably helps turtles cross busy highways. In other words, the type of overachiever I usually loathe. But that’s the trouble with Travis. He’s annoyingly likable. He’s warm, funny, kind, intelligent. I want to hate this guy, but I can’t. You probably won’t be able to, either. But please, for me, try. Travis has written a new book, illustrated by Grant Snider, and, yeah, you guessed it — it’s really good. Rats and snails!

 

Greetings, Travis! Nice to see you again. Sorry about the mess. Just shove those candy wrappers, beer bottles, and peanut shells aside. And I wouldn’t touch that green stuff if I were you. Sorry, I would have cleaned up if you were a bigger deal.

We all just live in our own filth now, right? But I am curious, who would I have to be in order for you to break out the Swiffer?

Cordell. Only because he’s so damn fussy.

Illustrators.

Agreed. They’re like Siamese cats. “Is this sanitary? What’s this green mold? Are you sure I can eat this?” It never ends with them.

Typical.

People ask me, “Jimmy, what did you miss most during the pandemic?” And I always say the same thing, “I miss Travis Jonker’s packing-for-ALA videos.” To me, that’s a sign that all is right with the world. 

Ha! Well, I’m sorry you’ve lost your North Star. Hopefully packing will return in . . . 2022?

Controversially, you are a roll-the-clothes-up advocate rather than a traditional folder.

I dabble in rolling and traditional layering. You gotta be flexible in your thinking on this. Don’t commit so hard to the life hack that you can’t employ traditional techniques if needed.

Any other packing tips?

Here’s the key, and I can’t state this strongly enough —

Travis, you don’t have to stand on the table. It makes me nervous.

This coffee table seems wobbly, but I’m going for it . . .

When traveling to a conference, pack almost nothing. Conference travel is very different than other types of travel. At a conference, you’re inside a temperature-controlled conference center most of the day. For men, if you have a shirt with a collar, jeans, and casual shoes (not sneakers) you’re ready for just about any situation the conference can throw at you. My motto for conference travel is No Options. Pick one outfit for each day you’ll be there and don’t pack anything else.

Okay, terrific interview. Thanks for stopping by. See you later!

Um?

Wait, did you actually think I invited you here to discuss your new book?

People always ask for packing tips under the guise of an interview, so I’m used to it.

Let’s pause for one moment while we view a historical perspective of your fabled packing exploits over the years . . .

Okay, I might be a stalker, but moving right along. I’m impressed by the warmth and simplicity of your story. You achieve something that I often struggle with — you distill this tale down to the essence. To me, that seems like one of the keys to writing a successful picture book.

That really seems to be the challenge — how to give the story enough pieces to work, but not to load it down.

Funny how this circles back to packing, isn’t it? We get in trouble when we try to cram too much into it.

You’re a master of theme, Jimmy — it definitely connects.

How did this book work for you? Do you write too many words and then whittle it down? An image, a sentence, an idea?

When I’m writing-writing a story, I tend to underwrite.

That’s not the usual answer. I’ll have to try that.

To be honest, I want to get the hell off the page as quickly as I can. I fear boring the reader. Maybe too much. In later drafts I realize, “Oh, yeah, I should probably add a little more character development and dialog here.”

How did this story begin for you?

The initial idea for Blue Floats Away came after an uncle of mine passed away. Because of my memories of him, I was thinking about how he was gone, but not really gone. I wondered if I could make a story where something like that happens, and then I thought of an iceberg melting into the ocean – gone but not really gone. In the first draft, the iceberg melts and that’s sort of the end. That was a real bummer, though, so my thinking on the story shifted to themes of independence and growing up. I like the idea that as we get older we change, yet we still feel the same on the inside, in many ways. So Blue returns at the end — different, but the same.

I connect with this because I think what you are saying is that this book began with a feeling — rather than an intellectual idea. You experienced loss and were moved to write. To me, the feeling, the emotion, is the heart of almost all expression. Ideas come later.

It does. That feeling or emotion has to be there to create a meaningful book. I think sometimes you can reverse-engineer it at the beginning — having a great plot idea and then going back to find the feeling or emotion, but those always take longer and often don’t work out at all. Beginning with the feeling usually leads to more successful writing.

In your day job as an elementary school librarian, you have the opportunity to read aloud to groups of children. You get to see what works . . . and what doesn’t. That experience must be incredibly valuable to you as a writer/storyteller.

After reading so many books with kids, I feel like I’ve sort of internalized the picture book audience. I carry that with me. It comes in handy for later drafts, but can be a problem for first drafts, where I want to be loose and not care too much about how a reader might react.

You really do have to entertain yourself and, ultimately, trust your instincts.

Yeah, I think it’s important to notice your own initial reaction to an idea. If I have a story idea and it makes me laugh out loud or gasp or something, that’s a really good sign. Not that I’m just laughing and gasping at my own ideas all the time, but I think you know what I mean.

Huh, interesting. Laughing and gasping. In my case, when I have an idea, I get the hiccups. And gas. I even wrote a hiccups book once, an out-of-print classic. But I’ve left flatulence for the masters.

You gotta play to your strengths.

What do you see when you read books with kids? You must have times when you think, “They are going to love this!” And they just don’t. And vice versa.  Have you learned anything at all?

With read alouds, I’ve learned that the way the book is presented has a lot to do with how it’s received. And I don’t mean that if I tell kids “This is a great book,” they will think it’s a great book. If the reader can make a connection with kids about the topic or themes of the book right away, the chances that the story will be well-received are much better.

Picture books seem to have gotten younger, with fewer words. Is that your perception?

Definitely fewer words. In some ways this is a good thing – there were plenty of picture books in the past that were too long and could’ve used some editing. But I think there are some great longer picture books that might not be published today (or would be edited down to nothing) because of this trend, and that’s too bad. If the voice is strong, I think you can write just about any length picture book you want.

I sorely miss the words in picture books these days. The rich language. I’ve often wished there was a separate award for the writing of picture books, because it’s an under-appreciated skill. Just as —- obviously, to me —- there needs to be a separate award for the writing of graphic novels. It’s insane to expect Newbery committee members to compare the writing of a graphic novel to, say, a 300-page novel without any images.

I’ve had many a late night conversation at the American Library Association conference about everything you just mentioned. It seems like a common argument against it is that A) There are already too many awards, and B) The more awards there are, the more it devalues all the awards. Oh, and C) The current award categories are broad enough to accommodate graphic novels and picture book writing. But I’m with you — a graphic novel award and a picture book writing award make sense.

With a novel, a writer is painting pictures with words, bringing all his/her/their creative talent to bear on the language to create the “movie” playing in the back of the reader’s skull. With a graphic novel, the writer is painting pictures with . . . pictures. Often there’s no descriptive language at all. I’m not arguing better or worse — but surely — surely! — an entirely different animal.

A completely different reading experience.

And writing, too. Did you have any interaction with illustrator Grant Snider? Did your manuscript include parenthetical notes to the illustrator? Or did you leave that wide open?

This book didn’t follow the traditional path. Grant and I met a few years ago and had talked about possibly working together. When I saw his comic On the Beach [above], I thought the style would be a great fit for Blue Floats Away — it reminded me of the torn paper illustrations in Leo Lionni’s Little Blue and Little Yellow. I sent Grant the story and he liked it and decided to illustrate it.

Lionni’s Frederick might be my favorite children’s book. 

I made a few illustration notes in the manuscript, but I kept it as brief as I could. I didn’t talk with Grant at all as he was illustrating the book. I knew Grant was a pro, so I got out of the way as much as I could. I’m amazed with his art in this book. I think if you hold your story too tightly, problems arise.

These days, we’re seeing more and more books with back matter, author notes, etc. This is partly a function, I would submit, to the “fear of words” we’re seeing in today’s picture books. They all get crammed in at the end on a rather dull page or pages. Your book has an Author’s Note. Was that your idea, or something that came from editorial?

Editor Courtney Code and I talked about adding an author note very early on. I don’t remember who brought it up first, but I was all for it. Since the story has such a clear connection to scientific topics – climate change and the water cycle – it just made sense to me that I talk a little bit about those real-world connections. I tried to write the author note with the audience for the book in mind.

Yes! I liked that aspect of it, especially when you advised them not to drive their trucks. You weren’t talking to only the educators in the room.

I really don’t understand why author notes often talk to grown-ups instead of kids. Many times I’ve read a book with kids and there’s an author note and I’m like “Oh, hey – this will be great I’m going to read this part to kids now and they’ll know more about what went into the book.” Only to slam the breaks because I realize it’s just a bunch of blabbing to grown-ups. 

I view it as a convention of our times, a trend driven by the library market (certainly not by actual kids), and also the standards of the nonfiction world crossing over into fiction. In some cases, back matter represents (to me: again, I haven’t heard anyone else complaining about this) a failure of the book itself. A successful story doesn’t need it. I don’t think your book needed it. There’s no back matter in Arnold Lobel’s Frog and Toad books or, say, Where the Wild Things Are. Nobody needs to know what Maurice Sendak was really thinking or how he got inspired or what web sites we should all go visit to save the planet. The story is the book and the book is the story. It is enough. That said, if an editor asked me to do it, I probably would (grumblingly).

[Jimmy pauses; climbs off wobbly table.]

Sorry, I don’t mean to become THAT GUY complaining about the state of the world. But I yam what I yam.

I hear you on the assertion that a successful story doesn’t need it. Fortunately, an author note is just hiding back there after the story is already done. But now I want someone to write a fake author note for the back of Where the Wild Things Are, because that could be pretty funny.

Pretty sure that hot sandwich was a tuna melt. Anyway, hey, Travis Jonker, my friend. I want to say that I have admiration and respect for the work you do in the world of children’s literature. I know that the “celebrity librarian” is a thing these days, and you were an early part of that influencer wave, but you have always kept the focus on the books. And more than that, the core has always been about inspiring young readers. And now I’m glad to see you finding your voice as a writer.

When we did our chat way back in 2009, you asked if I wrote fiction. Do you remember that? I do. That was really meaningful for me. To have a pro like you ask that question, it gave me courage to try it. Thank you for that.

A pro? I prefer the term, grizzled veteran. But was it twelve years ago? Wow. I actually do remember. And I’m happy if I encouraged you in any way. Seriously, you know books — you care about kids — and you are a terrific writer. I’m sure there are many more books to come. Where else can teachers find you?

I write four posts a week at 100scopenotes.com. And I put all my secret drawings on Instagram: instagram.com/100scopenotes. Oh, and the podcast! blogs.slj.com/theyarn.

Thanks for coming by. I love the simplicity and warmth (sly climate change reference there) of Blue Floats Away and I root for your continued success. Sorry that I went on that jag about back matter. I’m kind of a dope that way, these clumsy, passionate feelings. The truth is, I know you are a smart guy who engages with a lot more books than I do. Safe travels, my friend.

Next time I’m bringing Cordell, so I expect this place to be tidied up.

For a hotshot like Cordell, I’ll even buy one of those automatic robot vacuum cleaners — but I’ll do it grumblingly. It’s how we roll here at James Preller Dot Com.

 

Travis Jonker is an elementary school librarian and creator of 100 Scope Notes, a kidlit blog hosted by School Library Journal. He was a member of the 2014 Caldecott committee. Jonker lives with his wife and two children in Zeeland, Michigan.

 

 

 

 

Hey, folks. If you made it this far — congratulations! We’ll be sending you a $20 gift certificate to Blockbuster Video! You might know me from my Jigsaw Jones mystery series. As it happens, I also have a new book coming out tomorrow, May 11th. It’s called Upstander, a stand-alone novel that also serves as sequel/prequel to Bystander. It follows Mary’s experiences, enters her home life, and includes a strong Substance Use Disorder (SUD) storyline. I’m proud that both books were named Junior Library Guild Selections — ten years apart. You can click here for more info. 

 

CHECKING IN with Matthew Cordell: Because I was getting worried about frostbite

JP: Hey, Matt! I’ve noticed that you seem to be taking a morning walk each day, sketchbook in hand, regardless of the weather. That’s cool. Or in this case, freezing. Um . . . just wondering . . . is everything okay with you? What’s up with that?
MC: For years, I’ve been trying to incorporate some light exercise into my daily routine. I’m by no means athletic, but the older I get, the more it seems I’m expected to do such a thing. (Sigh.) We have a treadmill in our house and I find it horribly boring to get on that thing, even with music or tv on. I also find it boring to just walk around our suburban neighborhood.
So what changed?
Back in November, I made this really cool trip out to Bozeman, Montana, for a book festival and school visits. And I was fortunate enough to spend some of that time in Yellowstone. I realized on that trip that I was perfectly willing to get out and exercise (walk) if the scenery was beautiful enough. And I’ve got some great forest preserves near my house, so it all just kinda clicked after that trip. Another thing I’ve been trying to do for years is keep a daily (or semi-daily) sketchbook routine going. Doing a bit of daily drawing that has nothing to do with the books I’m making. Drawing that has nothing to do with deadlines or expectations.
So this is not the next big book from you? 
I wish I could figure out a way to turn this into a book somehow, because it’s been a lot of fun for me and good for my well-being.
Maybe a picture book involving hypothermia . . . ? 
But getting a book out of it is not really the point. I guess everything like this is for the greater good anyways, so it all helps fill the well or whatever that expression is.
In my own way, I can relate to what you’ve been doing.  For the past year I’ve been trying to begin my days by writing at least one haiku. Today I wrote two bad ones about mud. Who cares! I did my best. It’s not about the finished product. It’s about the benefit of paying attention to the natural world. That’s a Mary Oliver line, “Attention is the beginning of devotion.” That’s true regardless of your spiritual inclinations. In other wordsdon’t just do somethingstand there. Attend, notice. But in your case, it seems like a head space thing. You aren’t actually drawing what’s in front you, right? 
Yes, that’s exactly it! Sounds like you are doing the writer’s equivalent of what I’ve been up to. That’s cool. And no, I don’t usually draw what I’m looking out on my walks. I love drawing animals, so I’ve been doing a lot of that. I grab images off of Google and save to my phone. I’ll occasionally do a self-portrait while out in the cold. Self-portrait is great, immediate subject matter that you don’t have to think too much about. I think I’ll draw more from life when spring comes and everything starts coming alive again. It’s just not terribly inspiring to me to draw a bunch of leafless trees and snowbanks. 
Oh, I guess you didn’t read my post about the beauty of bare winter trees. It made a huge splash on the interwebs. 
One of the things holding me back was up until recently I never knew of a good pen to draw with that would emulate the sketchy desk-bound dip pens I love to use. An illustrator pal (and fountain pen aficionado), Steve Light, tipped me off to a type of refillable pen that had just the right line I’d always been looking for. So the daily morning walk/exercise doubles as a daily art/exercise. It’s all good for the soul and brain to do this stuff. It makes me feel better for the rest of the day. It clears my head. It’s good to get away from the desk and emails and studio and do it. It’s definitely cold!
We got a puppy about two months ago. A highly energetic dog that needs lots of walks. So I’m getting out there in every sort of weather –- and most of the time, I feel glad I’m out. A dog forces you to venture out into the world, wrap that wool scarf around your neck, whereas otherwise I might stay indoors, laptop open, hovering over Facebook’s angry icon.
I don’t really notice the cold after about 10 minutes into the walk. It helps to layer up. Snow pants and everything.
love my silk long johns.
It’s interesting, because this whole thing started for me in the dead of winter. I’m looking forward to experiencing this throughout the different seasons. Drawing outside is probably a lot easier when it’s 70 degrees. I wonder how it will be when it’s 90 degrees.
Um . . . sweaty? 
Different challenges in the summer. Maybe I can use the sweat for some watercolor work.
Okay, that’s pretty gross. Otherwise, I’m glad we had this little talk. I stalk you on social media, naturally, and I was growing concerned for your mental health.
It never occurred to me that any of this looks a little unusual until I started posting about it on social media. Several concerned friends have been like, “Why the heck are you out there drawing in sub-zero wind chills?”
Some days I can only tolerate taking my glove off just long enough to draw a simple line drawing. But it feels like an accomplishment when I do it. I realize I could just do walk and do the drawing indoors before or afterwards. But there’s something really invigorating about pushing myself in that way. Going outside and staying outside to do both of these things I want to do. It’s just nice to draw outside. I do really enjoy all of it. I guess when I think about it, it is kind of unusual or ridiculous in a, like,”extreme sport” sort of way. Yes, I totally just equated this very mild activity with extreme sports.
No, I mean, Matt, I’m serious. I really love my long johns . . . 
MATTHEW CORDELL IS THE AUTHOR-ILLUSTRATOR OF THE 2018 CALDECOTT MEDAL WINNER, Wolf In the Snow.
-M
HIS NEW BOOK, Hope, COMPLETES HIS “WISH” TRILOGY. 
          

One Question, Five Authors: “How Do You Celebrate on the Day the Book Arrives?”

Greetings, my Nation of Readers (though perhaps “wee village” is more like it). Anyway, I’m grateful to anybody who stops by. I started this particular spot more than 10 years ago. During that time, I’ve tried to self-promote relentlessly in a way that’s not too grotesque . . . to provide a behind-the-scenes glimpse into the creative process . . . and to shine a light on different artists and illustrators whose work I admire. Usually that’s taken the form of long, sprawling interviews which require considerable time and effort. 
Recently I had a new idea: Ask the same question to a number (5) of authors and illustrators. I hope in this way we’ll illuminate the process and, hopefully, help introduce you to some of the great people who are out there, doing such high-quality work.
And, hey, less effort for me!
Today’s question: “How do you celebrate on that day when the box arrives, and you finally hold a finished book in your hands?”
Let’s hear it for our special guests: S.A. Bodeen, Matthew Cordell, London Ladd, Laurie Calkhoven, and Lizzy Rockwell. Huzzah!
S.A. Bodeen
I’ve done different things over the years. Most recently was when copies of The Tomb arrived. Per usual, I ripped it open and took one out and removed the jacket to look at the actual book. (Yes, I do that every time.) Then I read the jacket to see what state I live in. (Sometimes they get it wrong. In their defense, I move a lot.) Then I put the jacket back on and showed it to my husband and he said “We should celebrate.” If the box arrives before dinner, we go out. Last night the box came after dinner (I made fish tacos, which were actually killer), so I suggested Culver’s, where he had a root-beer float and I had a vanilla malt.

Matthew Cordell

I’m probably my own toughest critic when it comes to my books, so I’m always a little nervous about opening up a box of finished books. It’s a little weird to look at something you made many months or over a year before you see the finished product. As artists, we are (or should be) constantly evolving and getting better as we work. So, a lot can change in a year’s time. I guess my personal celebration is flipping through a book several times. The first time with one eye closed probably. Each time looking at it gets a little easier on the eyes. Each time, seeing less of the flaws and more of the achievements and fond memories from the time spent collaborating and creating. Then it feels good. Then I take a picture and share it on social media. I hope that isn’t too bleak of an answer to your question.

London Ladd

It’s an easy question. After I open the package I touch and squeeze the book because I like feeling it before opening it. The new smell, the stiffness of the hardcover, the heartwarming note from the publisher…all of it really makes me so happy. Afterwards I look at the front cover and back to check out the design and font, I still get a thrill seeing my name on the cover :).  I open it and quickly scan the book jacket and then examine through the pages for all the things I should have done better and make mental learning notes on what not to do for the next book. I really love creating pictures books but I strive to be better.

 

Laurie Calkhoven

I’m afraid I’m a sad failure when it comes to celebrating my work. Part of the reason is the question of WHEN to celebrate. The day I accept the offer? The day –- weeks later –- when the contract arrives for my signature? The day – even more weeks later –- when the countersigned contract arrives with the advance check? The day that lovely box of books arrives? What about publication date? I DO usually pop a champagne cork or two with my writer’s group when I accept an offer. The other milestones are hit or miss depending on deadlines and whatever else is going on in my life. Sometimes I buy myself a piece of jewelry or a ticket to a play when the check arrives, but publication dates tend to pass without any notice from me. Lots of writers throw book parties (and I happily attend), but the idea of having one for myself makes the introvert in me want to run for the hills.
Lizzy Rockwell
I can’t say I have a ritual with this, but it is always a thrill. Like most thrills, it is mixed with a bit of fear. What if I find a mistake, what if I think I could have done better? Once it’s a book, all those choices that I agonized over are now finite. It’s so gratifying to see all the hard work by the editor and art director that pulls it all together. Things like end-sheets, typography, color matching, printing, paper quality, that I have nothing to do with, make such a difference. And it is the first time I have held the book in my hands, and read it start to finish, in color, while turning the pages. I always make a physical dummy booklet to draw my sketches in, so I can see and feel how the pacing goes as you turn the page. So until I see the printed book for the first time, that narrative continuity has been broken up into distinct parts over the many months that it takes to do all the editing, and complete the finished art. So there is a deep satisfaction when the book finally arrives in the mail (a year after I last saw the paintings). It’s my chance to hold the physical object, read, look, and turn the pages and finally see it as a unified work of art.
If readers care to suggest questions for future posts, please make a comment below!

New Stamps Honor Ezra Jack Keats and “The Snowy Day”

 

I’m going to need these stamps . . .

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Ezra Jack Keats, the creator of the groundbreaking children’s book, The Snowy Day, was born on March 11, 1916, nearly 100 years ago. To commemorate his achievement, the U.S. Postal Service will issue stamps featuring Keats’s artwork.

I think it’s a wonderful idea and a much deserved honor.

To me, the beautiful thing about this book is not that it was about a black boy in the snow in an urban setting, though that was (amazingly) a revolutionary thought at the time, published in 1962. Rather, Keats captured a universal expression of joy and wonder in this book — of a child, any child, every child, playing in the snow.

Transcendent and unifying.

NOTE: As of March 1st, still no stamps. So while many of us hoped the stamps would come out this winter, on the heels of the announcement, that now seems unlikely. I guess it’s better hope for November of 2017. But that’s only a guess. Sorry if I got your hopes up.



———

Just an aside, but anybody see the connection in Matthew Cordell’s widely-acclaimed new book, Wolf in the Snow?

I wonder if that’s intentional.

I’ll have to ask him.

EDIT: My pal Matt replied via Facebook, but I’ll post it here.

“The red coat was probably a subconscious hat tip to The Snowy Day, but not overly intentional. Just something about red on white snow that feels very bold and iconic. I used a red coat on my first pic book too (Toby and the Snowflakes, by Julie and me). Worth repeating! Then, of course, there’s the red riding hood throwback… who else did I steal from?”

9781250076366

 

5 QUESTIONS with MATTHEW CORDELL, author/illustrator of “WISH”

cordell_author

Today we hang out with Matthew Cordell, one of my favorite people in children’s books. Usually Matt and I can laugh it up with the best of them, just a couple of regular guys talking about our favorite books and rock bands, but today we got serious. In this edition of “5 Questions,” Matthew opened up his heart, and it got real.

wish_cover

You know I love this book, Matt. I read it again last night, over my 15-year-old daughter’s shoulder. I do that to Maggie, stick picture books under her nose. Anyway, at the end she turned to me and said, “I really like it.” And then, “Oh, you’re crying.”

And I was. This book gets me every time.

Oh, I really appreciate that, Jimmy, and thanks for sharing with Maggie! It’s interesting to hear from folks who let me know that Wish made them cry . . . I never imagined myself being an author of a book that would have that kind of an effect on a reader. I mean . . . when I was writing it and later illustrating it, I would occasionally tear up over the very personal nature of the thing. And I thought maybe it would have a similar impact on folks who would read it. That they would read Wish and see their own story or stories in it. So when I hear from folks who say it has struck an emotional chord, it’s just really, really rewarding.  

wish_final_3

It’s one of the counter-intuitive things about art: the deeply personal sometimes becomes the most universal. Yours is a book about, in part, a miscarriage. An extremely common occurrence –- sources estimate that up to 20% of pregnancies end in miscarriage –- yet it’s a deeply private experience that isn’t widely discussed. We grieve in silence, and very few people are even aware of our loss. Tell me about the beginnings of this story. Did you draw a picture? Write a few words? Were you even thinking book?

You’re very right. Life after miscarriage is a very dark, very alienating place to be. On our road to parenthood, Julie and I found ourselves in this place more times than we ever would have expected. It never occurred to me at all that anything related to that experience would ever be made into a book, certainly not by me. But I had just put my book hello! hello! into the world, which had a family-oriented focus to it. So I found myself searching for the next story I wanted to tell. For another big moment as a parent. And I realized that one of my biggest moments of being a parent was the journey and struggle of trying to become one.

wish_final_5

I don’t know if you remember, but the one time I visited your home, you showed me an early manuscript. We obviously knew it would be a challenging topic, one that might be hard to make appealing for children, yet I strongly felt that this was an important book for you to create.

That was a terrific visit! After years of knowing each other online and having collaborated together, we finally met face to face. I wish we lived closer to each other so we could do more of that.

You and Julie drove me to Wisconsin to eat brats. It had to happen.

I do remember sharing the book with you and talking about it at length. I was grateful to have your input. When I was ultimately ready to show it to my editor, Kevin Lewis at Disney-Hyperion, thankfully he took to it right away. Kevin knew this story well, from someone close to him that had been down this road in some way. It affected him personally. And as he showed it around at Disney-Hyperion, more and more folks came forward with similar reactions.

Let’s discuss the editing process for this book. I recall that your early draft was more direct about the loss suffered. Sadder, perhaps. Now looking at the published work, it seems that aspect has softened.

When I first thought of making this book, it was to tell the story of how our daughter (and our son too) came to be. It was a kind of love letter to my wife and baby. A book I could read to this little one someday and say, “Look how much it took to bring you into the world. Look how much we wanted you, and how much we went through, and how incredible all of this is. How incredible YOU are. And how tremendously grateful we are to have you here.” A large part of this story was the waiting.

Tom Petty got it right, didn’t he? The waiting is the hardest part. Because of all those hardships — the obstacles, the disappointments — that come with the waiting. After a while, you wonder if the bus is ever going to come.

wish_final_7

Yes, the insufferable waiting for years for a successful pregnancy. Not knowing if it would ever happen. Seeing other people all around us get pregnant with little or no trouble. Wondering why that wasn’t happening for us. Wondering if something was wrong. And in that time, we did suffer some losses. Needless to say, that was a huge part of the story for me. Overcoming loss and starting over, it was all so terribly devastating and challenging to Julie and to me.

I’m just so glad that you can share that with the world. That’s the thing, Matt. You put it out there. Exposed, raw, real. And in the process, you turned it into something beautiful.

Initially, I felt like I really needed that tough part of the story to be in the book, to make it as honest as possible. I never used the words “death” or was too specific when I’d written it. But the art I’d proposed was very bleak and dark. Near absolute darkness, really. I remember I had a full spread of blackness surrounding a small spot illustration of the huddled together couple. An overwhelming darkness is how life felt after a miscarriage. When I showed it to my editor, he had some reservations, understandably.

The heartbreaking art that Matt had to make, but that didn't make it into the final book.

The heartbreaking art that Matt had to make, but that didn’t make it into the final book.

Such a powerful piece of art, Matt. I am moved by that spread. But in the final analysis, I think you and Kevin Lewis were wise to keep it out of the book. It was too strong. You didn’t want heartbreak to become the message.

Much of the book was about hope. It was about the heartbreak too, for sure, but I never intended the scales to tip more toward the darker side of the story. But it was feeling quite dark at that stage in the editing process. The waiting and not knowing was the all-encompassing struggle that this story tells. To add a death in there would be a significant — possibly overwhelming — moment for the book. In general, death in a picture book is never going to be easy, considering the age of many of its readers. But in Wish, we agreed, bringing in this moment of loss would be a stopping point for the story. After considering it, we let the sadness in the book become more ambiguous in the final manuscript and art. 

I think it succeeds beautifully. Were the characters always elephants? Why did that feel right?

wish_study_elephantsYes, the characters were always going to be elephants. I knew I wanted them to be animals and not people, so it would open it up to all different ethnicities. I wanted people of all races and walks of life to see themselves in these characters. A picture book with human characters can be more limiting in that respect. And very early on, I can’t remember the exact moment — I knew they should be elephants. Elephants are strong and smart and stoic. And they make lasting memories with the ones they love. I saw a nature program once about these two circus elephants that had become super close to each other, emotionally speaking. Sadly, they were eventually split up and moved to different circuses at different locations in the world. Many years later these two elephants were reunited at an elephant sanctuary. The caretakers weren’t sure they would remember each other. Or worse, they worried they might be defensive or aggressive toward each other. So they reintroduced them tentatively with fencing between the two. Even after years and years of separation, they instantly remembered each other and nearly broke down the bars to get to each other and be together again. That kind of emotion and devotion and breaks-your-heart beauty . . . I really wanted that for Wish.

You know, Matt, I see that you are enjoying great success of late, all of it deserved, and none of it surprising. But of all your books, this is the one that makes me the most proud of you. It sprang directly from the heart, as natural as a flower, and it shows on every page, in every illustration.

Well, thanks, Jimmy. That is really kind of you and you’ve played a big part of any success I may have stumbled onto. You’ve been a great friend and ally and I’ve loved being witness to your many great successes and accomplishments too, over these however many years I’ve been making books in this little world ours.

wish_study_baby

I don’t think I’ve been a big part of your success, Matt, but I have been a big fan. So: okay, um, gee. I guess we’re supposed to hug it out now, my brother. Please give my best to your family, always.

 

457060MATTHEW CORDELL envisions Wish as part of a trilogy. Dream comes out in Spring, 2017, followed by Hope at a later date. He has made a great many books, and friends, along the way. I’m glad to among the latter, though I’d be tickled to be the former. His hilarious wife, Julie Halpern, was a school librarian and is now an accomplished author in her own right. She’s also a terrific mother.

 

 

ABOUT THE “5 Questions” Interview Series: It’s a little project I’ve assigned myself, hoping to reach 52 authors & illustrators in the course of a year, always focusing on one book. 

Coming next week, Matt Phelan (Snow White) Scheduled for future dates, in no particular order: Jeff Newman, Bruce Coville, London Ladd, Lizzy Rockwell, Jeff Mack, and more. To find past interviews, click on the “5 Questions” link on the right sidebar, under CATEGORIES, and scroll till your heart’s content. Or use the handy SEARCH option. 

Guest so far:

1) Hudson Talbott, “From Wolf to Woof”

2) Hazel Mitchell, “Toby”

3) Susan Hood, “Ada’s Violin

4) Matthew McElligott, “Mad Scientist Academy: The Weather Disaster”

5) Jessica Olien, “The Blobfish Book”

6) Nancy Castaldo, “The Story of Seeds”

7) Aaron Becker, “Journey”