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Here’s a rough sketch for my upcoming “Ready-To-Read” book, illustrated by Abigail Burch.
It’s called Two Ballerinas . . . and a Moose.
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So then there will be two:
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Coming in August: TWO BALLERINAS . . . AND A MOOSE!
Category: And a Moose! / Tags: Abigail Burch, And a Moose!, James Preller easy to read, Two Ballerinas and a Moose
MAXX TRAX Remembered!
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MAXX TRAX: Avalanche Rescue! was my first published book, 1986. I worked closely with my late beloved pal, editor Craig Walker. Could not have written it half as well without him. I was a snot-nosed kid, 25. The book sold more than 1.5 million copies (no royalties, flat fee) on book clubs, first time out of the gate. A shocking success (I worked on the 10th floor as a junior copywriter at the time). Scholastic bizarrely changed illustrators for the second title — a totally new look, computer generated, and awful — and it didn’t fare well. Oh, well. Done, gone, those two books long out of print.
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And yet not entirely forgotten. I still get emails about it. Several just this year. People who remember loving MAXX TRAX as a kid. Or parents who read them with their children. They still love the thrill of trucks and action stories. I haven’t been able to sell anything like it since. This is almost 40 years ago. This photo came to me last week . . . so kind of this family to remember those books & think of me.
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Category: Fan Mail, the writing process / Tags: Craig Walker, Fan Mail Wednesday, Maxx Trax Avalanche Rescue, Preller Maxx Trax
MAD Magazine Remembered, Via Neko Case
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Raise your hand if you had a subscription to Mad magazine. Come on, nice and high so I can see ’em!
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It’s incalculable to measure the influence of those writers and artists on a young, spongey mind. I subscribed for years and years.
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Neko Case writes about this specific issue in her blisteringly brilliant memoir, The Harder I Fight the More I Love You, which is every bit as excellent as Rickie Lee Jones’s “rock” memoir.
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It occurs to me that, at age 11, I might have read this same issue. Perhaps not. But I like that connection between Neko Case and me, the way any great book connects every reader who encounters it. We were all there together, in a sense, across space & time.
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Here’s Neko, upon discovering an old issue:
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I settled in to pore over my first-ever Mad magazine. It was the October 1972 issue. It was for kids, but it wasn’t? It was dark and funny, even though it was ten years old, which, to twelve-year-old me, was ANCIENT. Over the next few weeks, I read through it hundred of times. The women in it were all booby nurse stereotypes, but there was Spy vs. Spy, and Al Jaffee’s crazy-detailed, surreal drawings. Every part of that issue is tattoed in my brain, and acts like a memory portal to the very slow, beautiful, heavy-scented summer that changed my life for the better, showing me a different, kinder world.
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WHAT, ME WORRY?
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On Writing: Body Language & Character
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I want to talk about writing today. Let’s begin by looking at this famous image of John F. Kennedy, which I came across & posted yesterday in connection with a quote:
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As writers, we need to try to see people and convey that in words. I’m not great at this by any means. It requires effort, a struggle, as it doesn’t often come naturally in my writing. But as writers, we must try to notice things, mannerisms, telling details. Why? To help the reader see. And also: as a way into character.
Look around: People are everywhere. Ask yourself, how would I describe that posture? The woman in the coffee shop. The kid on the slide. How do it quickly, efficiently, in a sentence or two?
Back to the Kennedy image. It could be, simply:
He stands with arms crossed, neck bent, head down.
Or a little more:
He stands with arms criss-crossed, neck bent, head down. He is reflective, feeling deeply.
Yuck, okay, the voice feels wrong — I might be trying to avoid the “lost in thought” cliche — or, say:
Arlo stands with arms criss-crossed, neck bent, head down. This is the Arlo I love. When he is quiet and reflective. I long to know what is in his heart.
Or that last bit in the 3rd person:
Esme longs to know what is in his heart.
Or inject more story into it:
Arlo stands with arms criss-crossed, neck bent, head down. This is classic Arlo. A performance. He is such a fraud. I can’t wait to hear what utter bullshit he’ll say next.
Or, okay:
He tucks his hands beneath his crossed arms, stands quietly, head down, considering.
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And on and on and on, endlessly. There are a million options, a million ways to get at it. Or to paint it, if you will.
Try to do that today. Watch people closely. Notice how they hold themselves. At first, try to strictly describe only what you see: the ankles crossed, the fingers touching a necklace, the mouth a thin line of disapproval, etc.
The truly amazing thing is how entire characters, entire world views, can grow out of this simple practice. The posture is a seed that flowers into a fully-formed, “living” character.
For example, say, this:
The way Anna fidgets with the bracelet on her thin, right wrist. The bracelet was her mother’s, a gift before the cancer took her away. It was a year ago but feels like yesterday. Anna reaches for it when she feels nervous, or insecure, or just bored and lonely. A habit of the heart. It seems to help. She remembers the love that is gone and, almost magically, the love that persists.
I just made that up. Beginning with an image of a physical act.
Now it’s your turn.
Go deeper, if you wish. But mostly, as an exercise, try to describe what you see. A sentence or two. The crossed ankles. The twirling of the hair. The setting of the shoulders. The forward-leaning walk, arms swinging. It all begins & ends with the seeing.
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Don’t miss my newest middle-grade novel, Shaken. Now also available on Audible, read by Caitlyn Davis.
