Tag Archive for James Preller interview series

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. 

 

A Conversation with Lori Mortensen: About Edward Gorey and the Craft of Picture Book Biographies

“As I delved into the research,
I couldn’t wait to write an equally memorable
picture book biography
about this curious,
whimsical,
one-of-a-kind artist.” 
— Lori Mortensen

I’ve been making an informal survey of picture book biographies of late, a favorite genre. So many great titles out there. One of the best is Lori Mortensen’s NONSENSE: The Curious Story of Edward Gorey. Here is an oddball, innovative, breezy, confident, utterly charming book that lives up to its subject. No small accomplishment: a book that Edward Gorey deserves. So I’ve set out a bowl of mints, fluffed up the throw pillows, put on my hazmat suit, and invited Lori over for a chat. Come, let’s say hello.

 

How did this book and subject come about for you?

Interestingly, I find picture book ideas in many different ways, from a title randomly popping into my head at the library (Mousequerade Ball), to my neighbors’ dogs escaping from their backyard and racing down the street (Cowpoke Clyde and Dirty Dawg). For NONSENSE! The Curious Story of Edward Gorey, I was out on my morning walk and happened to catch a podcast about Edward Gorey on Stuff You Missed in History Class. As I listened, his name and dark style sounded very familiar, and I was sure he’d illustrated a memorable book from my childhood. When I arrived home, I searched my bookshelves and found The Man Who Sang the Sillies, a collection of silly poems written by John Ciardi and illustrated by Edward Gorey. One of the most memorable poems, “The Happy Family” began:

Before the children say goodnight,

Mother, Father, stop and think:

Have you screwed their heads on tight?

Have you washed their ears with ink?

The poem was accompanied by Gorey’s illustration of children scrambling around their bed trying to catch their floating heads. As I delved into the research, I couldn’t wait to write an equally memorable picture book biography about this curious, whimsical, one-of-a-kind artist.

 

Let’s pause here to give up a cheer for creativity and morning walks. So, Lori, how does one undertake a picture book biography? I mean, getting started. Just read everything, take lots of notes, and wait for genius to strike?

 

 

Once I’m intrigued by a subject, I jump into research and see what I can uncover. These days, there is a treasure of online resources right at our fingertips that include museums, historical sites, newspapers, experts, archives, photos, libraries, and books. As I research a subject, I copy links into a document along with the information I’ve found until I’ve gathered a firm foundation of information. Research takes time as I buy, borrow, and read as many books as I can about the subject. When my initial research phase is complete, I organize the information into chronological order, so I understand the information in the order that they happened. As I study the information,
an underlying theme or thread emerges. In the case of NONSENSE! The Curious Story of Edward Gorey, the path seemed clear — how Edward Gorey, a child prodigy, created a sweet and sinister style that has influenced a generation of creators from Lemony Snicket to Tim Burton.

 

It seems like picture book biographies of late are more focused on “slice of life” storytelling, rather than a comprehensive cradle-to-grave treatment. The genre, perhaps once a little stiff, is bursting with creativity and freedom.

I love picture book biographies. Because they are a mere 32 pages, authors have a daunting, yet exciting challenge to shine a light on the most intriguing and meaningful aspects of the subject’s life for young readers. Sometimes that results in a “slice of life” approach, where writing about the achievement alone is key. Other times, it’s about the subject’s journey from birth to their achievement that shows how their childhood influenced their accomplishment (as was the case with my book about Edward Gorey), and lastly a biography that spans their entire life, from birth to death.

As you noted, picture book biographies are more creative than ever, and it was a delight and a pleasure to write NONSENSE! The Curious Story of Edward Gorey, and share his unique story with today’s young readers.

At a certain point, you must have far too much material for a picture book. How do you reconcile all that great info that you didn’t include? Is it agony? I see so many books increasingly cluttered with back matter –- one recent title I came across had 8 pages of it! — and I’m not a fan.

You’re right! Picture book authors have to make tough choices and sometimes scenes that I would have liked to include just don’t make the final cut. That was especially true for my picture book biography, Away with Words, The Daring Story of Isabella Bird, about Victorian traveler, Isabella Bird, who was the first female member of the Royal Geographical Society and wrote 10 books about her exciting explorations. Talk about tough choices! Hopefully, I chose the best.

And as you noted, extra information is often included in the back matter. While you don’t want to go overboard, back matter often includes a more complete life-to-death narrative, author notes, timelines, and glossaries. Back matter is especially important element for today’s nonfiction books so they can offer as much as possible in the STEM/STEAM market for schools and libraries.

This book is written in free verse. Tell us about that decision.

Since Gorey was a unique personality, it seemed only right to tell his story in a unique way as well. I read a lot of picture book biographies and took special note of tone, structure, and arc. One of my favorites has always been Strange Mr. Satie, by M.T. Anderson. With each page, Anderson’s unique details drew me into this musician’s strange life, full of odd circumstance, eccentric decision-making, and controversial musical excursions. With all that input brewing in the background, I began writing about Edward Gorey.

 

It wasn’t long before a quaint, quirky voice emerged that seemed to already know where it was going. This was a happy occurrence because so often it’s a process of trial and error with many false starts. When I wrote this story, however, everything seemed to fall into place as if there was a sign pointing the way.

While writing it, did you have any awareness of how the book will be illustrated, or by whom? Chloe Bristol’s illustrations strike the perfect note. She’s just amazing. Lucky you!

Interestingly, even though I’m not an illustrator, I always have images in mind when I write. In fact, I write my manuscripts with scenes and page turns in mind because that’s what picture books are all about. When authors take these elements into consideration, it will make their manuscript even more appealing and effective.

In the case of Nonsense! The Curious Story of Edward Gorey, I didn’t have any idea who would illustrate it, but it seemed likely that whoever illustrated it would have the same sweet and sinister style as the subject, Edward Gorey. I was delighted when Versify brought Chloe Bristol on board because her style was the perfect match to tell Gorey’s story.

What’s next for you, Lori?

That’s always a great question because one of the wonderful things about writing is that there’s always something exciting just around the corner. In 2021, I’m looking forward to the release of my humorous picture book, Arlo Draws an Octopus, inspired by the countless hours I spent as a child trying to draw at the kitchen table where I had my own share of crumpled “disaster-pieces” just like Arlo. In between releases, I’m tapping away at the keyboard, conjuring, coaxing, and prodding my next story to life, and waiting for good news that’s just around the corner.

Thanks for swinging by my swanky blog, Lori. Yes, the mints are free. Sure, of course, go ahead, take all you want — pour the whole bowl into your pockets. Okay, that’s fine. Anyway! Have a safe trip home, Lori. Thanks for inspiring us!

 

Lori Mortensen is an award-winning children’s author of more than 100 books. Recent releases include NONSENSE! The Curious Story of Edward Gorey; If Wendell Had a Walrus, illustrated by Matt Phelan; Away with Words, the Daring Story of Isabella Bird, illustrated by Kristy Caldwell; Mousequerade Ball, illustrated by Betsy Lewin; and many more. Coming in May, 2021, Arlo Draws an Octopus, illustrated by Rob Sayegh Jr. Please feel free — because, after all, you are free — to visit Lori’s unimaginatively-named website at lorimortensen.com. 

Fairy Houses & Creative Learning at Home: A Conversation with Author and Children’s Librarian, Liza Gardner Walsh

 

 

“I miss my students.

I miss putting books directly in kid’s hands.

I am heartbroken

that we don’t get to finish the year together.” 

Liza Gardner Walsh

 

Liza Gardner Walsh embodies two of my favorite things in one person: no, she’s not peanut butter and jelly. She’s even better. Liza is an author and a children’s librarian. She’s also a certified, fully-authorized, bonafide expert on all things fairies. Liza visits today with some insights about getting kids outdoors, interacting with nature, using their creativity and imaginations, to make learning fun. Let’s meet her.

 

 

Liza, it’s nice to connect with you again! Usually we only see each other at the glorious Warwick Children’s Book Festival. I was very happy to come across an article featuring you, “How to Build a Fairy House.” The reporter, Aislinn Sarnacki of the Bangor Daily News, did an excellent job. It inspired me and I hope it might inspire parents, too. Let me quote the intro:

Fairy house building is a creative outdoor activity that can expand the imagination and bring to life the small things in nature that are easy to overlook. All you need is a small outdoor space and a few natural materials. Then — taking as much time as you want — construct a small home, fit for a fairy, frog or any other small creature that comes to mind.

This zero-cost activity is great for kids, families and even adults who are looking for ways to have fun in their own backyards. And right now, as people stay at home and practice social distancing during this stressful time, fairy house building may be just the thing to take people’s minds off the pandemic — even if it’s just for a few minutes.

 

Why do you think some children are so fascinated by the fairy world? 

This is the hardest question of all but I think this fascination with fairies taps into our innate “sense of wonder” as Rachel Carson coined it.  There is this immediate flood of curiosity that informs the magic of this hobby. Will the fairies come? Will they leave a surprise? What do they look like? Will they like my house? Do they take care of the world? Are they watching us as we build? Seeing the wide-eyed wonder and amazing willingness of children to take the leap into the imagination and the unknown is so incredibly rejuvenating. It celebrates that part of childhood that we as children’s book writers are so connected to and work so hard to intuit in our writing. And it reinforces all the good, trust, wonder, curiosity, consideration, persistence, patience, and laughter!

I love the idea for that activity, particularly in relation to these times, when schools are closed and the focus has shifted to online learning.

I have been watching kids and families make these little houses and worlds for years now and I am always amazed at how much creativity is unleashed. Every single creation is different. One of the premiere benefits is this sense of open-ended play because there are no step-by-step instructions like Lego kits. The materials that kids collect set the parameters. Another benefit is that it completely captures kids’ imaginations and it isn’t a one and done kind of a thing. You can wake up and check on your house and then go back and add another room or a playground. The next day, you can leave a note for the fairies or make a pathway to your sibling’s house. The possibilities are endless. I also like that kids can do this completely on their own and it becomes a way that they can be engaged safely and create a whole world of their own making.

 

I like how so many learning opportunities open up naturally. It’s a perfect jumping-off point for interdisciplinary activities: cooking, writing, reading, science (nature studies), engineering . . . 

I would say, though, that my all time favorite benefit is patience and perseverance. There are always problems to solve when building things out of materials that aren’t all the same or made with straight lines. Things fall apart when the wind blows or your dog might knock the whole thing down in one fell swoop. But a true fairy house builder will pick up the pieces and start again.

You work as a school librarian. How have you been adjusting to our “lockdown” reality in that capacity?

It’s been way harder than I ever imagined. I miss my students. I miss putting books directly in kid’s hands. I am heartbroken that we don’t get to finish the year together. Thank goodness for technology but zoom meetings are not the same. I do appreciate the creativity that distance learning is forcing on us and I have had some really fun connections with kids through video and zoom but I do spend a lot of my time worrying about our families and the isolation and economic challenges they are facing.

       

 

I had a friend complain about her disappointment with “learning-from-home-time” so far, the pile up of schoolwork her girls have received from each class. I’m certainly not here to criticize teachers, who are working very hard to figure out this brave new world. I do feel that our current situation presents new opportunities for creative, explorative, interdisciplinary learning. The idea isn’t so much to recreate what happens in the classroom — we can’t do that, especially on the social level — but maybe in some respects we can do something even better. 

Our principle has said the whole time that we are building the plane as we are flying it but I do appreciate the model we are using. We are offering activities, enrichment, and support but not requiring it. We have to keep in mind equity. Sometimes, worksheets are a benign way of making things accessible and easily transmissible through digital means. But I completely agree that this can be an opportunity for a paradigm shift. Kids are always learning. Literacy, math, science, art, movement are all so enmeshed in our everyday lives. I’m hoping that kids are building forts, planting gardens, watching birds, writing letters, and working on engines. Fairy House building is another way that kids can create, engineer, and collaborate. You can write a story about what happens in that house after you leave it. The key is following the curiosity and seeing what emerges. That is something that we don’t often have time to do in the public school day schedule and now is the perfect time to make it happen.

Can you give us a few quick tips? No one wants to build a house that displeases the fairies.

Of course! First, you need to find a good spot that will be safe from dogs, protected from wind, and that has some support. Bases of trees, stumps, and rock walls are all great. Next, grab a bag or a box and gather your materials. Fairy houses should be made from all natural materials. There are so many good things to collect like acorn caps, bark that has fallen off a tree, sticks, rocks, shells, dried beans, dried milkweed husks, the list goes on.

Once you have all your materials, you can begin to assemble your structure. People usually opt for a lean-to or a teepee type structure but the sky is the limit. And once you have a good house built, you can then work on adding some furniture to welcome your small guests. Fairies are very fond of naps so a bed is an essential. Tables and chairs with acorn cap bowls are also a nice way to welcome fairies. The final touches can include pathways, playgrounds, pools, and whatever else you can dream up. After you have built your house, pay attention for signs that the fairies have visited by looking for tiny footprints, fairy dust, and bent or torn leaves. But the most important advice of all is to have fun!

By the way, how tall are fairies, exactly?

I have “heard” they are about 2-3 inches tall, roughly. But some people describe it as a shimmer of light , almost like an orb, or a little puffball hovering by a flower.

So you’ve never . . . ?

No, I have never seen one. And I’m okay with that!

Well, I’m ready to build a fairy house right now. I only wish I still had a six-year-old at home with me. My Maggie, now 19, used to make them long ago. I wonder if she encountered any, I’ll have to ask. Do you have a new book in the works?

I have the last in the seasonal fairy series illustrated by Hazel Mitchell, The Fall Fairy Gathering, which is due out this summer. And I am working on a historical fiction novel but at a snail’s pace!

Thanks so much for stopping by, Liza. Be safe, stay home, and protect the vulnerable.

Thank you, James, for all that you are doing for kids, teachers, and families and for continuing to write such great stories.

 

Liza Gardner Walsh is a school librarian and an author of more than a dozen books. She’s worked as a preschool teacher and a high school English teacher, writing tutor, and museum educator. Liza lives with her family in Camden, Maine. And, obviously, she’s terrific.

 

 

 

 

 

10 Questions, 50 Authors: The First Ten Installments in One Easy Format

It’s encouraging to see the response to my “One Question” series, the internet’s laziest interview series. We all need that, by the way: encouragement. At least I do. So much shouting into the void, wondering if you’ve been heard, if it’s worth the effort. More readers seem to be finding the series — and clicking “like” — as it becomes better known. Thanks, authors, for your contributions and for sharing the posts. At the same time, some of the older editions have been under-viewed. Maybe you’ve missed a few? So here in one place I’ve brought together the first 10 questions with convenient links. Or you can click here and just scroll through one big bloggy document. Thank you for stopping by. Please note that there are more on the way, featuring Lois Lowry, Todd Strasser, Aaron Becker, Jerdine Nolan, R.W. Alley, David Kelly, Elaine Magliaro, Kurtis Scaletta, Florence Minor, Heather Alexander, and more.

 

#1: “How do you celebrate when the first book finally arrives?” GUESTSLizzy Rockwell, Matthew Cordell, S.A. Bodeen, Laurie Calkhoven, London Ladd.

               

#2: “Tell us about a book that impacted you.” GUESTS: Julie Fortenberry, Don Tate, Rachel Vail, Paul Acompora, Audrey Vernick.

                    

#3: “How did comics influence your work?” GUESTS: Charise Harper, Matthew McElligott, Bruce Coville, Eric Velasquez, Alan Silverberg.

                    

#4: “How does music fit into your work?” GUESTS: Mikki Knudson, Matt Phelan, Charles Smith, Yvonne Printz, Chris Tebbetts.

                    

#5: “How is your work affected by the current political climate?” GUESTSBarbara Dee, Tonya Lee Stone, Jen Sattler, Lesa Ransome, Travis Jonker.

                  

#6: “Tell us about a favorite moment in a recent book.” GUESTS: Erin Dionne, Eugene Yelchin, Nora Raleigh Baskin, Alan Katz, Nick Bruel.

                    

#7: “How does a book begin for you?” GUESTS: Tony Abbott, Matt Tavares, Aimee Reid, Keely Hutton, Greg Neri.

                    

#8: “Let’s talk about rejection.” GUESTS: Jennifer Arena, Kevin Lewis, Donna Gephart, Parker Peevyhouse, Aimee-Joan Paquette.

                    

#9: “How do you cultivate creativity?” GUESTS: Laurie Keller, Nikki Grimes, Jordan Sonnenblick, Liza Walsh Gardner, Steven Sheinkin.

                    

#10: “Can you say something nice about procrastination?” GUESTS: Jo Knowles, Barbara O’Connor, Charles Waters, Jay Cooper, Susan Hood.

                    

One Question, Five Authors #9: “How do you cultivate creativity?”

It lives! We’ve eased into a monthly schedule for the “One Question” series. It takes me that long to come up with a question. Then I rest for three weeks, exhausted. Today comes with an embarrassment of riches, thanks for thoughtful replies from Laurie Keller, Nikki Grimes, Jordan Sonnenblick, Liza Gardner Walsh, and Steve Sheinkin. 

Today’s area of inquiry is difficult for me to summarize. I basically asked about fallow periods, that quiet time between inspirations, and how our artists dealt with that “between ideas” phase. Did they do anything special to cultivate creativity?

In other words, how does one invite ideas into an empty room?

 

Laurie Keller

UGGGH!!! Okay, that being said, it’s a tricky thing sometimes, getting those creative juices flowing. I’m inspired by absurd, silly (but clever!) things so when I’m starting a new project or am stuck in writers’ mud, there are favorite movies or songs or books I go to that will sometimes help me out. But the really elusive thing for me, it seems, is finding the right “voice” to get things rolling.

When I get an idea I’m excited about (which usually pops in my head or unexpectedly crosses my path; I don’t often use the ideas I write down and save), I’ll sometimes write for weeks or months and not get anything I like. It drives me BONKERS! But then, out of the blue, I’ll hear or see some ridiculous, zany, completely STOOPID thing that catches me so off-guard, it somehow turns everything around. I love when that happens! I had hoped after all these years of writing that I could summon that “voice” to show up just when I need it. But it’s all right. I’ve found that there are plenty of Gummi Bears and peanut M&M’s in this world to get me through the long, rough patches.

Nikki Grimes

I rarely experience truly fallow periods in my writing life, these days. I generally move from one contracted project to the next, working on multiple manuscripts over the course of a year. However, I do hit a creative wall, now and again, either because I’m burnt out from the previous project, as I was following completion of my forthcoming memoir, Ordinary Hazards, or because, uncharacteristically, I have no follow-up project. In either case, the solution to the problem is always the same for me: I read.

Reading always stirs my creative embers. I have to be selective about what genre I reach for, though. If I wish to work on a collection of poetry next, I had better not dive into a luscious anthology of personal essays, for example. If I do, in short order, I’ll find myself drafting personal essays. If, on the other hand, my intention is to work on a piece of prose, non-fiction or otherwise, I’d better beware novels in verse or volumes of poetry or that’s precisely what I’ll end up writing. I’d blame this literary misdirection on my muse, if I could, but it’s my own fault.   Whatever genre I feed on is invariably the genre that comes out of me. It happens every time! I suppose that’s the risk of writing across genres, as I am inclined to do. Ah, well. Nobody’s perfect!

 

Jordan Sonnenblick

I am an all-or-nothing writer.  I have published eleven middle-grade and YA novels since 2005, which sounds like the track record of someone who plugs away consistently.  In reality, though, I spend three-quarters of my time trying to think of something to write, and then when the idea finally hits, I crank out a book with blazing speed.  The longest it has ever taken me to write a first draft is four months, and I once wrote two complete novels and a short story in just eighteen feverish weeks.  (Then I got bronchitis and the flu in quick succession.  Don’t try this writing schedule at home.)

As you might imagine, I have put a whole lot of thought and effort into the battle against writer’s block — or, more specifically, initial-idea block.  I have never come up with a foolproof, one-size-fits-all solution, but there are some strategies that seem to make getting an idea more likely.  Anything that engages either my artistic faculties or the language center of my brain, but in a different way, is particularly useful.  As an example, this summer, I started taking Spanish refresher courses at night, reading the Harry Potter books in Spanish, and watching Spanish movies during my daily exercise routine.  Somehow, this freed up my thinking in a whole new way, and I started getting picture book ideas for the first time ever.  I also got a great idea for a memoir aimed toward adults.  This triggered a creative outburst, and I wrote the memoir, followed by two picture book manuscripts.  Right now, I am co-writing a play with an old friend from high school.  I don’t know which, if any, of these projects will sell.  However, I do know that spending a couple of hours a day immersed in another language got me out of a rut, and for that, I am grateful.

Next year: Russian!  Thanks for reading, comrades.

 

Liza Gardner Walsh 

I am currently in one of those fallow periods post deadline and past the chaotic aftermath. I’m dancing around a few projects but I’m also on the hunt. Luckily, I have a day job that provides me with endless daily inspiration. As a school librarian, I’m surrounded by books and children. I also have the good fortune to have recess duty everyday because I happen to believe that the best place to invite creativity is during recess.

So as I find myself on this current “writing recess,” I am noticing everything. I’m trying to follow the Mary Oliver method of living a life, “pay attention, be astonished, tell about it.” This recess also allows me to stretch and to play. Challenges like Story Storm and a self-directed one hundred days of writing poetry prime the well. I also snuck away to a kidlit retreat in Vermont that oozed inspiration.

But perhaps the most fail-safe method of cultivating inspiration is walking my 10 month old puppy. We walk all over our small town. She doesn’t miss a thing. She makes me slow down, notice, and process all those ideas that percolate on the playground.

So my inspiration recipe is this; pay attention, play, challenge yourself, escape if you can, and walk. I think when all this combines, things start to happen. The light turns on again.

 

 

Steve Sheinkin

To me, the time in between ideas is all about trial and error, trying out different potential stories, just mentally at first, when I’m walking, cooking, shaving, whatever. I’ll take an idea and just play with it, just start somewhere and see how far I can take it. If it seems promising, I’ll write out really rough sketches of how the plot might be structured. With nonfiction, I obviously can’t make stuff up, but I find there’s still a lot of creativity, a lot of questions to be answered before I know if a book will work. So I’ll a pick a possible opening scene and watch it. And then I try to get from there to a logical next scene, and to another one, and so on. I’ve thrown out some of my best ideas for opening sequences (or my editor has forced me to) just because they didn’t lead smoothly into the heart of the story. It’s a good system for me, if not an efficient one, and I’d say the only drawback is that I’ll find myself “watching” my scenes when I’m supposed to be listening to people who are talking to me.

 

JP: I’M SORRY, STEVE, DID YOU SAY SOMETHING?