Tag Archive for Scholastic Book Club memories

A Conversation with Liza Donnelly, Children’s Author/Illustrator and “New Yorker” Cartoonist

January 11, 2021 / / No comments

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“People respond to my positive approach

and I love that.

People want hope, as do I.

It’s just as easy to be optimistic

as it is to be pessimistic.

It is a choice.”

— Liza Donnelly

 

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Liza Donnelly and I go back more than 30 years, except she never actually knew it. As a copywriter and book club editor for Scholastic in the late 80s and early 90s, I loved Liza’s imaginative dinosaur books. I also followed her cartoons in The New Yorker. In fact, there’s a long line of acclaimed New Yorker cartoonists who went on the publish in children’s books (most notably, William Steig). Recently, Liza popped up again on Facebook, and I was thrilled to see her new work. Early during the pandemic, I grabbed this image by Liza and used it for my Facebook Cover art: 

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Beautiful, right? I figured it was time to invite her over to my swank offices her at James Preller Dot Com. After a hasty cleaning — Where did all this old cheese come from? —  I opened the windows, lit some incense, and eagerly awaited Liza’s arrival. Here’s she is now . . .

 

 

Greetings, Liza. Is everything okay? You look a little drawn. Oh, wait, wrong image!

 

 

 

When I was a junior copywriter at Scholastic (working for a cool $11,500 a year), I wrote various book club kits: SeeSaw, Firefly, and Carnival. I especially liked your book, Dinosaur Day, which was the first in the series of seven books.

That’s great to know. That’s what I got paid in my first job at the American Museum of Natural History, probably around the same time! I enjoyed doing those books for Scholastic and was ready to have the Dinosaur series go forever…but alas it didn’t. The books now live on the internet however, and are e-books for kids. Thanks, Dinosaur Day was a favorite for me, too. I wanted it to be wordless but we ended up with minimal words.


I still remember, without having seen that book in decades, how the boy’s imaginal life connected to the objects in his room. I loved –- and still very much love –- that idea. The interior and exterior coming together, celebrating the imaginary journey.

That’s a great observation and I like how you put it, celebrating the imaginary journey. I wanted to show that the little boy was obsessed with Dinosaurs!

I knew you were a New Yorker cartoonist. So many of them got into children’s books, most notably William Steig, James Stevenson, others.

Yes! I was heavily influenced by Steig’s use of color in his books. I loved reading them to my daughters. My favorite was Brave Irene. Also Stevenson was great, a much different feel to his books. I was lucky to meet both men before years ago.

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Stevenson seems a little forgotten these days. He was hugely popular on the book clubs, with favorites such as The Great Big Especially Beautiful Easter Egg (that kid running around with a mustache!) and What’s Under My Bed?  He also illustrated a number of Jack Prelutsky’s bestselling poetry collections (The New Kid on the Block, Something BIG Has Been Here, etc). It’s a wonderful honor for you to be a part of that tradition. When I found you on Facebook, I was immediately taken by your current work. The images you are putting out each day. Obviously, we’ve been living in uncharted times.

So true. I have found doing a cartoon a day and broadcasting it on Instagram as I draw (and talk about it) has been a wonderful way to connect with people. Also it helps me be connected with what is going on in the world because I do it every day in a rather public way.

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On a personal level, I tend to go dark at times, which I attribute to my Irish background. I hold grudges and distrust the wealthy and I believe it’s a good idea to get rip-roaring drunk twice a year. Yet you seem intent on putting forward positive messages with your work.

That’s so funny you say that because I am also of Irish heritage, you undoubtedly noticed. I think the Irish may distrust the wealthy for sure and hold grudges (never heard that), and that they/we can go dark. I go dark all the time. But we also tend to be poetic and with the dark you have to notice the light. People respond to my positive approach and I love that. People want hope, as do I. It’s just as easy to be optimistic as it is to be pessimistic, it is a choice. That doesn’t mean I don’t notice how horrible things are in the world, I do.

I remember talking to my good friend, illustrator Jennifer Sattler, after Donald Trump was elected. We were like, How do we live in this new world? And she said that she heard someone’s podcast, she never could recall the source, where the speaker said, “Do what you’ve always done, but with new purpose.” That made a lot of sense to me.

That’s wonderful. I felt that way after 9/11. I was so distraught by the event that I was about to change careers and give up cartooning. Then I drew a cartoon about it and it was bought and run by The New Yorker (“Daddy, can I stop being worried now?) and I felt back on track. I decided to spend more time drawing about global politics than ever before. With Trump, it was not easy to figure out how to approach him because I don’t particularly enjoy ridiculing people.

 

 

In the meantime, you are still making books. What’s your most recent?

My most recent book was Women On Men, a collection of my cartoons and writing about women making fun (lovingly) of men. I also did two kids books for Holiday House in recent years. Interestingly, after I stopped with Scholastic in the 1990’s, I tried to sell these two ideas for books, and no one would buy them. I showed them to Holiday House after they sat in my drawer for ten years…and they bought both!

 

 

 

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I am currently working on a new edition of my history of the women cartoonists of The New Yorker. It’s to be called Very Funny Ladies, due out this fall.




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Thank you so much for your time, Liza. It’s really nice to connect with you after admiring your work for all these years. I very much appreciate what you are putting out into the world right now. How can people find you?

Thanks so much for reaching out! And for your kind words. I feel lucky to be able to do what I love, which is draw and connect with people. Folks can find me on Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook: @lizadonnelly.  Watch me draw every weekday at 5pm ET on Instagram and a new startup called HappsTV every day at 6pm ET: happy.tv/@liza . My website is lizadonnelly.com. A lot of my political cartoons and writing is found on Medium: lizadonnelly.medium.com And some writing and cartoons on The New Yorker website.

 

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James Preller — um, that’s me, and so awkward in the 3rd person — is the author of the Jigsaw Jones mystery series, ages 6-8. Coming this Spring, look for my new middle-grade novel, Upstander. Thanks for stopping by. Onward and upward with the ARTS!

 

 

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On the Passing of Norman Bridwell, Creator of Clifford the Big Red Dog

December 17, 2014 / / No comments

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I was hired by Scholastic as a junior copywriter back in 1985 for the princely sum of $11,500. To get the initial interview, I mailed in my near-empty resume and a writing sample, which addressed the hot topic of the day, Bernie Goetz, New York’s “subway shooter.”

After the first set of interviews with Willie Ross and Carol Skolnick, I was given a bunch of children’s books and asked to write about them in two voices. First, for young children, and secondly, for teachers. Writing about Curious George to students, I wrote something like, “Yikes! That silly monkey is in trouble again!” For teachers, the idea was to take a different tone, such as, “In this classic tale, award-winning author H.A. Rey conveys the hilarious antics of Curious George, one of the most enduring and beloved characters in all of children’s literature.”

I got the job writing the SeeSaw Book Club.

One of the first assignments I was asked to perform was to write brief promotional brochures on three authors: Ann McGovern, Johanna Hurwitz, and Norman Bridwell. I was given their phone numbers, told to call them, set up an interview.

“Call them?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“On the phone?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Um, me?”

“Yes, you.”

I stared at that phone for a few minutes, mustered up my courage, and pushed the numbers.

That’s the first time I spoke with Norman Bridwell. He was then, as he would forever remain, a humble, soft-spoken, generous man. The first Clifford book, published in 1963, came out in two-color, in an inexpensive, horizontal format. It looked cheap, because it was. But in the early 80s somebody at Scholastic had the bright idea of repackaging those books in a mass market, 8″ x 8″ format — and in vibrant full color. The books took off and the Big Red Dog became one of the great success stories in children’s literature. In fact, one can accurately imagine the Scholastic corporation as a great sled with Clifford the Big Red Dog hauling it through the snow. That benign character helped propel a company to greatness.

Through it all, Norman remained the same kind, gentle man. No one ever spoke badly of him. No one, not ever.

He was always courteous, generous, kind. Even grateful, I think. Norman always seemed to consider himself lucky. And the truth is, he was fortunate. I don’t think anyone makes it really big in this business without a little luck shining down on you. Norman understood that.

NETFLIX, INC. SCHOLASTIC INC. CLIFFORD THE BIG RED DOG

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He deserved his success, for he had created something pure and genuine that touched hearts, and through it all he remained faithful to the essential core of what those books were all about. The love between a child and her dog, with a bunch of jokes and gags thrown in to get you to that final hug.

One other quick story about Clifford. It was sometime later, let’s call it the early 1990s, and I was in Ed Monagle’s office, chatting away. At that time, I’d moved upstate, gone freelance, and was trying to survive as a writer. (True story: I’m still trying to survive as a writer.) Ed was a terrific guy, but also a numbers guy. A financial analyst, chief bean counter at Scholastic. Ed cared about the books, and believed in the central mission of the company, but he was also impressed by profit-and-loss statements. He admired Clifford’s sales numbers, and respected the size of Norman’s royalty checks.

So on this day, Ed gave me some friendly advice. He said, “Jimmy, this is what you’ve got to do. You’ve got to invent a character that everyone loves. Look at Clifford the Big Red Dog. Do you have any idea how many of those books we sell? You could do that!” he continued. “I mean, think about Clifford. He’s a dog. He’s big. He’s red. How hard could it be?!”

That’s the thing with magic, I guess. It never looks difficult.

Ed was right, of course, the idea was laughably simple. He was also completely wrong. Clifford the Big Red Dog was an exceptional idea, marvelous in its simplicity, executed to perfection.

Not so easy after all.

Norman Bridwell passed away this week. And I’m here to say, very quietly, that he was a really good guy. I’m sorry to see him go.

 

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