Tag Archive for Travis Jonker

CULTIVATING CREATIVITY, Part 2: Tips & Strategies Featuring Travis Jonker, Paul Acampora, and Michelle Knudsen

As outlined in a previous post, I called upon a variety of children’s book authors and illustrators with a basic question:

What do you do, if anything, to cultivate your own creativity? 

Today we’ll look at the answers I received from Travis Jonker, Paul Acampora, and Michelle Knudsen.

TRAVIS JONKER

Well, I didn’t think I would ever share this with anyone, but since you asked . . .

Whenever I begin a new notebook, I write the following in the back:

It’s a reminder to myself that I don’t have to do a whole lot to express my creativity.

Readers should run (don’t walk) to pick up a copy of Travis Jonker’s new picture book, illustrated by my pal, Caldecott Medalist Matthew Cordell.

PAUL ACAMPORA

My “creativity practice” is embarrassingly simple: I take notes. I am constantly writing down snippets of conversations, song lyrics, descriptions of found objects, occasional historical facts, and funny names of people, places, food, and dogs. My notes are not particularly noteworthy, but for some reason they catch my eye. Once a week or so I review what I’ve collected on scraps, post-its, and notes apps. I jot them onto a page in a dollar-store composition notebook for possible use at a later date.

I’m usually disappointed to learn that my observations are painfully mundane, but then I remember Eleanor Rigby picking up rice after a wedding or a moocow coming down the road or how much depends upon a red wheelbarrow or a dog named Winn-Dixie, and I keep taking note of the simple things that might be the seeds for my next story.

 

Paul Acampora’s most recent middle-grade novel is the achingly beautiful (and funny), In Honor of Broken Things

 

MICHELLE KNUDSEN

Three things that help me with writing are walks, music, and Post-It Notes.

Walks are good for having ideas, for thinking through tricky plot points, for shaking up my mind after too much time at my desk.

Sometimes music and walks go together. Sometimes I make playlists that I only listen to when writing or thinking about a particular book. Sometimes one song will get associated with a book, and then I’ll just listen to that song on endless repeat.

Music usually only works for novels though. I need quiet for picture books.

Post-It Notes work for everything. I have lots of colors and sizes, and I love how low-pressure they are. I can write a word or a phrase that seems to have potential and just stick it somewhere around my desk. Sometimes those turn into something more; sometimes they end up crumpled into little paper balls to amuse my cats. Either result is acceptable.

Michelle Knudsen’s most recent picture book features a reunion with illustrator Kevin Hawkes, the team that created the all-time classic, Library Lion

PLEASE COME BACK ANOTHER TIME FOR MORE TIPS & STRATEGIES FROM SOME OF THE BEST MINDS (and creative spirits!) IN CHILDREN’S LITERATURE. 

And while you are still here, I guess I ought to say that I first started working in children’s publishing in 1985 and never had the good sense to find alternative employment.  Here are my two new books from 2024: 

 

         

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.

 

Alan Silberberg Interview . . . Part Two

If you missed Part One of the Alan Silberberg Interview, it’s absurd for you to be here. I mean, really. Please follow the link to catch up.

Don’t worry, we’ll wait . . .

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Late in the book, Milo gathers together a number of objects that remind him of his mother, that press the memory of her into his consciousness. Where’d you get the idea for that?

I think that comes from the fact that I really don’t have anything from my mother. Things did get thrown away or given away and it really was like she died and then she was erased. When I was writing the book I started to think hard about my mom and tried remembering objects that evoked her to me. That became a cartoon called “Memories Lost” which were all real objects from my childhood that connected me to her. After making that cartoon, it struck me that Milo would want to go out and replace those objects somehow and that’s why he and his friends hit up the yard sales.

There is a scene toward the end in one of my books, Six Innings (a book that similarly includes a biographical element of cancer), that I can’t read aloud to a group because I know I’ll start to slobber. It’s just too raw, too personal for me. And I suspect that might be true of you with certain parts of this book. I’m asking: Are there any moments that get to you every time?

I think there are two specific parts of the book that choke me up, though lots of little places make me reach for tissues. The chapter where Milo goes to the yard sale and finds a blanket that reminds him of the one his mom had will always get to me. My mom had that blanket, the “pea patch blanket” in the book — so as Milo wraps himself in it and remembers her getting sick — I am always transported to the image of my mom and her blanket. The second place in the book happens in cartoon form, when Milo remembers the last time he saw his mother, which was when she was already under anesthesia being prepped for surgery and she has had her head shaved and he can see the lines for the surgery drawn on her head like a tic tac toe board. That image is directly from my memory of my last time seeing my mother. It’s pretty heavy stuff.

And so powerfully authentic. Milo describes that period after his mother died as “the fog.” Was that your memory of it?

I think trauma at any age creates a disconnect inside us. I think the fog settled in for me slowly. As the initial shock of my mom’s death wore off a sort of numbness rolled in over me. It was a survival technique to cover all that hurt stuff with an emotional buffer and I think that’s what I mean about “the fog”. It’s like I knew there was a pain in me but I didn’t want to touch it or think about. It was just always there as a dull feeling deep inside. The Fog.

Speaking of fog, you watched a lot of TV as a kid.

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Ha! My two sisters called me “the walking, talking TV guide” because I always knew what was on and what channel. I’d never be able to do that today with all the satellite and cable channels — but back then, I was an authority on the network TV schedule!

We never got it at my house, but I remember being jealous of families who had subscriptions to TV Guide.

Absolutely! We didn’t have a subscription either but I would read the one at my friend’s house up the street and just soak it all up so I could be the authority for the upcoming week back home! Even before my mom’s death I loved TV — but after she died it really became a safe place to get absorbed into the fiction of other people’s lives. I loved cartoons and comedies the most back then.

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You’ve written for television in the past. In what way do you think that helped when it came time for you attempt a novel?

The best thing about being a reformed TV writer is I already knew how to structure a story and more importantly, thanks to my animation writing especially, I was already really good at setting the scene and making sure to also describe the action. Scripts rely on good dialogue so that was a skill I’d already started to hone. When I started Pond Scum (my first book) I thought of it as a long episode of a great TV show and I let the chapters drive the story as if it was a script.

When I talk to students on school visits, I’ll sometimes do a quickie “show, don’t tell” lesson, and I’ll describe it as creating a movie in the reader’s mind — in part because my skin crawls when I hear it described by authors as “painting pictures with words.”

Yeah, the writer as painter image doesn’t quite skew in my head either. And I bet the kids really relate to your idea of imagining a movie in their mind. That’s nice.

I wonder, what did the novel format allow you to do that, perhaps, you couldn’t achieve while writing for television?

TV is dictated by the time of each episode, whether it’s 30 minutes or 60 minutes the writer is being told how many pages to write and where the commercial act breaks appear. There are producer notes and network notes and it really is a bit of writing by committee. I am really thankful for my TV writing experience — but I so appreciate the freedom of writing a novel where I can do whatever I want and am not restricted by time issues or rules of what my characters can and can’t do. I am so much happier being in control of the world I create when I write a novel. Of course there are notes that must be worked with from the editor at the publishing house — but I have always found that to be a collaborative experience to make the book better. In TV — notes were usually a headache and lots of times they never even made sense! My book editors, Donna Bray on Pond Scum and Liesa Abrams on Milo — have made me a better writer and I am so thankful to them for that.

Can you think of anything specifically that they taught you?

I think one of the best lessons I’ve gotten was to stay true to the kid voice of the story. Sometimes I let my characters talk the way I’m thinking and the situation is all kid, but the language comes out too adult. Maintaining the kid POV is always in the back of my head thanks to my editors.

Yeah, I have that struggle, too. Once I created a second-grade character with rheumatoid arthritis who had a fondness for lemon cakes, Jay Leno, and bargain-priced resort wear. I had to rethink it. Question: How do you know when something’s funny?

That’s the million dollar question! I wish I knew that answer. I think I have a good sense of humor so if something strikes me as being funny — it usually is at least amusing. I’m not too big on dissecting jokes or looking for rules of comedy (with the exception of “the rule of three” and “words with a “k” sound”).

Yes, the classic scene from Neil Simon’s “The Sunshine Boys” with George Burns and Walter Matthau. I can’t find the exact quote, but the basic idea: Alka-Seltzer is funny. Chicken is funny. Pickle is funny. L’s are not funny. M’s are not funny. Lettuce is not funny. Cucumber’s funny. Cab is funny. Taxi, not so much.

I saw the play version on Broadway and wish I could remember the cast but my mind is a blank. But it was funny. Very funny. As far as knowing when something is funny or not — I also like to run things by my wife and son — if they don’t at least crack a smile I know I am way off base!

I have this memory from college. This guy Dave used to introduce me to people, saying, “This is Jimmy. He’s really funny.” And I hated that. I finally had to say, like, Dave, dude, you’re killing me here. First, the pressure was ridiculous, and secondly, I didn’t want to play the clown. I can be funny at times, but it has to come in naturally. That’s how I feel about writing, too. I think I’m in trouble when I try to be funny.

Yeah, I was that guy at times but thankfully I can’t tell jokes so no one puts me on the spot anymore. I’m more of the guy who stands in the back of a group listening and then I add a zinger to the conversation — I’m a punch line guy who then shrinks back into the shadows!

Well, then feel free to say something funny, Alan. I’ve been waiting pretty patiently. Zing away. I sense that my Goofball Devotees are becoming restless.

No, really. This is when I bomb. The pressure to be funny will always result in the most un-funny thing possible, which I think I just proved with this last sentence.

No, that was hysterical, I laughed just watching the sweat pore off your head as you tried to think of something funny. Like the great scene with Albert Brooks in “Broadcast News.”

There’s a great line by one of the camera crew in that scene: “Nixon didn’t sweat this much.”

Back to Milo, did you worry that maybe you’d be blowing the appeal of your funny story by including the grief aspect. I mean, did some voice whisper in your ear, “Man, this is not the way to sell books to boys.”

Yes! As I mentioned, the initial goal was to just write a “funny book.” But once I realized what Milo’s story was — that he was the boy whose mom had died — it became a challenge to tell the story in a way that was both touching and funny. I stopped thinking about whether it would sell or not and concentrated on telling the story from a true place inside me. I had some deep seated confidence that this book would find its place and it was meant to find its way to Liesa Abrams at Aladdin. She embraced Milo immediately from her heart. I think that trying to write a “commercial” book is the worst way to go about it anyway.

So you think I should scrap the Geek Supernatural Romance I’ve been trying to write?

What? No vampires or zombies in it?

NOTE TO SELF: More vampires, jump on zombie craze.

Now, where were we? Oh yes, Alan Silberberg! Haven’t you gone home yet? How important are the illustrations to the book’s appeal?

I think it was important for me to add my cartoons to this story, in other words, be able to write and illustrate a book. Though I think the story could stand just fine as a text-only book, it’s clear that cartoons help get the book into certain young hands. But apart from that, I really felt the cartoons could add a dimension of story-telling to the book (not just funny eye candy).

You’ve said elsewhere that the words usually come first, that you are truly illustrating the story. But how does it affect you as a writer, knowing that you’ll have those illustrations? I’d think it would help with, say, a joke or funny moment. You’d be delivering the punch-line two different ways.

Exactly. I find that when I know there can be a cartoon anytime I feel like it — the writer part of my brain and the cartooning part kind of team up. I get a voice inside my head telling me, “Hey, you could punctuate that joke with a great doodle!” Certainly I found with Milo that there are parts of the book where I was having a hard time writing until I imagined how a cartoon would help the chapter be lighter or in some cases the opposite, where a cartoon could tell the sadness of the story in a visual way. I guess the writing was a little easier because I always had my cartoons to fallback on if I got stuck.

Any new books from you on the horizon? Or have you gotten up the courage to finally pursue that career as a catwalk model?

My legs are my best asset! Actually, I am almost done with the first draft of a new book for Aladdin. It’s another book that will include my cartoons but it is much more of a silly book than Milo. It’s a buddy story about two friends who want to be the school cartoonists and get more than they bargained for when their wishes come true.

Lightning round: Adam Sandler or Chris Farley?

Gonna have to go with Sandler.

Ouch. Okay, chin up: Ali or Frazier?

I’ll go with the Kelsey Grammer guy. Never liked Ali McBeal.

Separated at birth?

I think that’s Ally but . . . let’s move right along. The Halloween treat that makes you go back to the house a second time?

Has to be Nestles Crunch!

Top of your head, five favorite books?

A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole and Walker Percy, Adrian Mole by Sue Townsend (any and all), Half Magic by Edward Eager and N.M. Bodecker (it was the first book I remember loving as a kid), The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas, Bird By Bird by Anne Lamott.

Five favorite movies?

The Big Lebowski, Memento, Back To The Future, Monsters Inc, Defending Your Life.

First album you ever bought as a kid?

The Who’s Quadraphenia.

Five most played songs on iTunes? No cheating.

“This Must Be the Place (Naïve Melody)” Talking Heads, “I’ve Had It” Aimee Mann, “New York City Serenade” Bruce Springsteen, “Generator (Second Floor)” Freelance Whales, “Into The Woods” Soundtrack.

Nice list. It’s often a surprise what floats up to the top. Full disclosure, my five most played includes four  Dylan tunes (“Love Minus Zero/No Limit,” “Just Like Tom Thumb’s Blues,” “Positively 4th Street,” “Tell Me That It Isn’t True”) and Van Morrison’s, “And It Stoned Me.” So: you live in Montreal, which surprisingly is still in Canada. Five favorite places in the city?

1) Schwartz’s has the best smoked meat sandwiches on the planet. 2) Westmount Library lets me fall asleep in their cozy chairs. 3) The Old Port of Montreal for the relaxed tourist ambiance of Europe with a Canadian twist 4) Shaika Café, where I like to write and watch the other people write while they watch me 5) This chair in my house. Love it!

Alan, thanks for stopping by. I’m glad we got a chance to meet. I’ll be watching your career and rooting for your success. Please accept this set of bamboo flatware as a parting gift. You’ll love giving your meals a tropical twist with real bamboo-like handles! The complete set serves one (and might be missing a fork). Shipping not included.

Some links to more interviews conducted by yours truly:

* Kurtis Scaletta

* Lewis Buzbee

* Carmen Deedy

* Deborah Kovacs

* Matthew Cordell

* Jack Rightmyer

* Travis Jonker (100 Scope Notes)

* Betsy Bird (Fuse #8)

* Bill & Karen (Literate Lives)

Men Reading: What You May Have Missed

In addition to the relentless snowbooking, I’ve been putting in time over at my new blog, FATHERS READ, which is dedicated to 1) fun photos of men reading; and 2) the importance of positive role models for boy readers.

Note: I want to pause for a moment to emphasize that these gender issues often devolve into an “us” versus “them” scenario, the boys against the girls, with advocates for each side lined up in opposition. This is unfortunate and counter-productive. What we want is readers, boys and girls. Yes, I wrote: the importance of positive role models on BOY readers. Because that’s my focus here, the statistical fact that boys do not read as much as girls. But on a larger scale, the fathers read movementha! — benefits boys and girls. I’m not pitting one against the other.

Please check it out, spread the word, send in photos. Things are eerily quiet over there, it’s the proverbial tree falling in the forest.  It’s a new blog and generally these things either take time or die on the vine. Right now, it’s too soon to tell.

Over the past two weeks:

* Author Lois Lowry tugged at my heart;

* Author Lewis Buzbee stopped by to contribute, “Five Things About Me as a Young Reader.”

* Peter Lerangis, author of many outstanding books, got fierce about reading.

* I’ve linked to useful, provocative articles on tips for boy-friendly educational approaches, the culture of low expectations, research that suggests how video games might actually boost brainpower, super dad seminars, 14 literacy strategies for boys, and more.

* Identified some pretty excellent father-based blogs.

* And for as long as supplies last . . . photos. Really great photos.

Please do what you can to amplify this important message.

Promote the site on your blog . . .

Send in a photo . . .

Honor a man who played a role in your development as a reader . . .

Don’t make me beg, people.