Tag Archive for The Very Last Castle

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. 

 

One Question, Five Authors #5: “How has your work been affected by today’s political climate?” 

Welcome to the fifth edition of the “One Question” series.

My thanks to the five respondents below: Tanya Lee Stone, Jennifer Sattler, Lesa Cline Ransome, Barbara Dee, and Travis Jonker. For your answers . . . and for your fine work.

This is an issue that fascinates me, since it’s been the crucible for so many of us these past few years: How do we proceed under these conditions? As citizens, as artists, as storytellers, how do we respond? Does the job description, in subtle and not-so-subtle ways, change?

Note: If there’s a published author or illustrator who’d like to participate in this series, please feel free to email me at jamespreller@aol.com. I’m also on Facebook. There’s a link to the previous ones in the series in the right sidebar under “categories.”

 

Tanya Lee Stone

For the past ten years, my work has focused on filling in some of the gaps in our histories; namely, true stories about women and people of color. Those stories have always been important, but perhaps now more than ever it is essential that they are more widely spread and that readers understand that we are all connected — in our pain and in our triumphs.

In Girl Rising, for example, which deals with the fact that 130 million girls globally are not being educated, I hope I have made it difficult for readers to ignore the fact that these are not “other” girls in “other” places — they are kids just like them — with similar hopes and dreams. And with this awareness of connectedness, I hope, comes increased activism. To that end, I structured the third part of the book around guiding readers toward activism without becoming too daunted by such large issues of slavery, early child marriage, and lack of access to education.

Lesa Cline-Ransome 

I have always enjoyed writing books that celebrate history, culture, heroic figures and the power of perseverance. When I began writing nearly twenty-five years ago, I was interested in finding the untold stories of everyday heroes—Satchel Paige, Marshall Taylor, and Pele, who rose above obstacles. Later I wrote about historic figures like Frederick Douglass and Harriet Tubman, who had endured their share and more of injustices and hardships. My hope was that all children who read of these struggles would begin to understand how the pains of our past were met with fierce resistance.

And then the election of 2016 happened. And suddenly the distant past seemed not so far away as hate crimes rose and civil rights and protections of marginalized communities were rolled back. Each book I write now feels like less of a focus on history and more of a roadmap to how we must continue to have a voice. The word resistance has now taken on a new urgency, reminding young readers, not of our distant past, but of a world that continues to need voices to speak out against injustice. Now, more than ever, I am using the power of story to chart the progress we’ve made through the years, while reminding readers, there is still a mighty long way to go.

Jennifer Sattler

Right after the election in 2016, I was wondering, like everyone else I know, what on earth I could do to effect change. I can’t go door to door, or make cold calls. That’s not who I am. But then I read somewhere (I wish for the LIFE of me I could remember where) a woman saying, “Do what you do but with a new sense of purpose.” That really resonated with me. So, I wrote Bully. I needed it to still feel like one of my books. I didn’t want to preach or be overtly political. After all, my books are for young children, so I wanted to address something that a lot of them were now dealing with now more than ever.  Most of the books on bullying that I’m aware of have this sympathy for the bully and, honestly, VERY unrealistic expectations for kids to deal with the situation. The bully always comes around and becomes a friend. This has not been my experience . . . ever. As a mother, as a kid who faced bullies, and as a woman. I want kids to feel empowered. And most importantly, not alone.

 

Barbara Dee

In January 2018 my publisher offered on a full manuscript of a middle grade novel — plus whatever MG I wrote next. I’d never had a two-book deal structured this way before, and it struck me as both a vote of confidence and incredible pressure, because at that point I didn’t even have an idea for another book. As I waited for my editor to send notes about Book 1, the news last winter was full of stories about sexual harassment (including some about prominent kidlit authors). These stories horrified me; and the more I researched the origins of such behavior, the more I was convinced that we needed a #MeToo story set in middle school. I began writing very fast, telling myself it was just a draft for Book 2. But before I got to the end, I knew that this story, both timeless and very much a product of the Trump era, needed to be out in the world as soon as possible.  Fortunately, my publisher agreed to flip the order of the two books, releasing Maybe He Just Likes You next fall.

 

Travis Jonker

In my role as school librarian, the current divisive political climate has made me more vigilant about the books in our collection and the books I read aloud with students. Themes of inclusion, kindness, and diversity have become even more of a focus. And it doesn’t always have to be an overt, “Hey, kids, here’s a book with a lesson about kindness.” Usually the more subtle the better. Now as a newly published author, I feel stories that in some way talk about universal themes — and I know I’m not making news here — tend to be more engaging. My favorite line from an Andrew Smith book is that, “The best books are about everything,” which I think means that good books reach for universal topics — love, death, fear, etc. In the podcast interview I did with Mo Willems, he said that every Elephant & Piggie book was addressing a “philosophical question.” So I definitely think about how a story I’m writing connects to larger ideas. With The Very Last Castle, the rough plot came first, but it wouldn’t have become a book without the themes of community and courage that came later in the writing process and gave the story depth. But I honestly can’t say any of that is a direct result of the current political climate. However, I do think it’s made me more sensitive to themes of inclusion, kindness, and diversity in the books I read and share.