A recent NYT or-ed piece by Christy Wampole entitled “How to Live Without Irony” has been making the rounds online. The piece is a lament for the millennial generation’s fixation on irony:
The hipster haunts every city street and university town. Manifesting a nostalgia for times he never lived himself, this contemporary urban harlequin appropriates outmoded fashions (the mustache, the tiny shorts), mechanisms (fixed-gear bicycles, portable record players) and hobbies (home brewing, playing trombone). He harvests awkwardness and self-consciousness. Before he makes any choice, he has proceeded through several stages of self-scrutiny. The hipster is a scholar of social forms, a student of cool. [...] He is a walking citation; his clothes refer to much more than themselves. He tries to negotiate the age-old problem of individuality, not with concepts, but with material things.
I feel like a piece like this crops up every year or so, and the consistent factor in all these articles is that the author feels left out of a culture that he/she does not belong to. This article feels about as accurate as those that came out of 9/11 declaring that irony was “dead.” If anything, the hipsters I have known have been excessively earnest people … the only way you might think otherwise is if you were extrapolating their entire person from their clothes, facial hair, and twitter feeds. Lady Gaga may wear a meat dress, but she also gives speeches about bullying. Those same smirking “harlequins” were the ones who started the Occupy movement.
More importantly, I disagree with the premise that earnestness is inherently superior to irony. Since when has the ability to laugh — especially at oneself — been a bad thing? The author points to 4 year-old children and animals as exemplars of earnest behavior. From where I stand, those are not necessarily things for adults to aspire to. To celebrate humanity is to celebrate the ways we are different from animals — irony is one of the ways we can do that.
Sure, there’s a possible danger to too much detachment. And, as I’ve discussed before, it can be used to hurt people. But none of these things are unique to one generation.
T
his weekend, I had the pleasure of hanging out with thousands of English teachers at the NCTE Annual Convention. I’m not a fan of Vegas, but I am a fan of English teachers, and it was a fun time packed with parties and luncheons and various meet-and-greets. I was able to reconnect with authors like Shannon Hale, Cecil Castellucci, and Jennifer Holm. I may or may not have teared up when I finally got to meet Jon Szieszka.
Abrams also had me at their booth signing copies of Peter Nimble, which they were selling at cost. In a convention hall awash in free ARCs, even discounted books are a tough sell — I felt like I needed to find a way to draw passers-by, which led to this:
I had a stack of 11×17″ paper and a pretty steady line of people eager to receive crappy portraits — so much fun!
The highlight of the weekend was getting to finally meet the geniuses behind the Nerdy Book Club! Colby, Donalyn, and Cindy threw a party on Friday, and it was a blast. The NBC blog has a convention wrap-up, including a video of me doing an impromptu yo-yo show:
My wife’s grandmother, Maxine Burke Markam, passed away this weekend. Today is her funeral. Maxine was a delightful woman who raised four spectacular children–all of whom were present when she passed. She was smart, beautiful, tough, and the meanest canasta player I have ever seen. Here’s a picture of us cutting a rug at our wedding five years ago:
Death is never a terribly fun thing, but without it, I’m not sure life would seem quite so wonderful. All last week, I couldn’t help but remember two scenes from different plays. The first is Thorton Wilder’s Our Town in which Emily has passed away in childbirth, but has been given one last to look at her old life before disappearing to her grave:
EMILY: It goes so fast. We don’t have time to look at one another. [...] I didn’t realize. So all that was going on and we never noticed. Take me back — up the hill — to my grave. But first: Wait! One more look. Good-by, Good-by, world. Good-by Grover’s Corners. … Mama and Papa. Good-by to clocks ticking … and Mama’s sunflowers. And food and coffee. And new-ironed dresses and hot baths … and sleeping and waking up. Oh, earth, you’re too wonderful for anybody to realize you.
The second is Vladmir’s speech near the end of Waiting for Godot:
VLADMIR: Astride of a grave and a difficult birth. Down in the hole, lingeringly, the grave digger puts on the forceps. We have time to grow old. The air is full of our cries.
Since relocating to Pittsburgh, I’ve been invited to teach at the MFA program at Hogwarts Chatham University. This is a thrill, as my students will be actual creative writers of Children’s Literature! It will also be a challenge.
The educational needs of creative writers are slightly different from those of straight academics. The questions/vocabulary/theories that serve scholarship aren’t necessarily the ones that help a writer become better at their craft. The goal of this course will be to combine the reading list of an English Lit class with the vocabulary of a creative writing workshop.
I’ll be writing pieces on this blog about each of the books that we’ll be discussing in class. Here’s the first half of our reading list. You’re welcome to follow along!
The Wonderful Wizard of Oz by L Frank Baum (1900)
I’m not actually the biggest Baum fan. His books often feel like rambling journeys where each chapter has no relation to the larger story. The first book in his series, however, is a welcome exception. Even better, Baum’s famous introduction to that book is a great way to start a course on the genre — it’s the Declaration of Independence of Children’s Literature.
The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett (1911)
One of the recurring tropes in Children’s Literature is the creation of enchanted spaces — especially ones that are controlled by children. What better example of this than a book that manages to create such spaces without needing to resort to magic?
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain (1885)
Now that last year’s Huck Finn debacle seems to have blown over, it seemed like it might be fun to explore this book — one of the rare children’s literature titles that has gained full acceptance in the larger canon. From a writing perspective, it will also provide a chance to examine the quest narrative in greater detail.
Peter and Wendy by JM Barrie (1911)
My love of this book is well documented.
Charlotte’s Web by EB White (1952)
I’m actually more of a Stuart Little guy myself, but with this book recently topping the School Library Journal’s list of Top 100 Children’s Books, I thought it would be worth looking at. One of the things I love about Charlotte’s Web is how (seemingly) effortlessly it manages to combine prosaic American farm life and talking-animal magic — with Charlotte being the nexus between those two worlds.
Children’s literature maven Monica Edinger recently wrote a thoughtful response to a recent Slate piece on the “epidemic of niceness” that plagues the modern publishing industry. Both writers voice their frustration over the dearth of negative book reviews online. Here’s an excerpt from the original article:
“But if you spend time in the literary Twitter- or blogospheres, you’ll be positively besieged by amiability, by a relentless enthusiasm that might have you believing that all new books are wonderful and that every writer is every other writer’s biggest fan. It’s not only shallow, it’s untrue, and it’s having a chilling effect on literary culture, creating an environment where writers are vaunted for their personal biographies or their online followings rather than for their work on the page.” Jacob Silverman, Slate
For me, reading is too often an experience of discovering that the emperor has no clothes. When that happens, I feel betrayed by my community (Somebody should have warned me!). And yet, when I read an openly negative book review, it turns me off. While I agree to the importance of quality criticism, quality criticism is no fun.
There is, however, one safe place where negative reviews thrive: the celebrated book
While I bite my tongue about contemporary books I dislike, I am more than comfortable speaking out against boring old books. I am not alone here; the internet is awash in snarky takedowns of overrated classics. For more contemporary targets, one only need look at the upper echelons. For every hundred glowing reviews of Freedom, you can be sure there will be a BR Meyer review attacking it.
Sometimes these dissenting voices come off as prophets, other times they come off as attention-hungry trolls (Armond White, anyone?). I think there is a sense that a successful work can afford to be taken down a few notches. Perhaps this is true, but since when has that been the purpose of criticism?
In Edinger’s comments, she mentions that SLJ’s Heavy Medal blog stands out as a place where honest criticism is alive and well. I agree with her, and I think the blog gets away with that because of its conceit: any book mentioned there is already a contender for the Newbery. There is no such thing as a bad book on that blog, only varying levels of good.
I think the success of Heavy Medal speaks to a larger point. Perhaps the reason bad books do not get panned is because we subconsciously know they are undeserving of critical engagement? And perhaps this is the way it should be? What is the value of our greatest literary minds attacking Fifty Shades of Grey, a book that has no literary aspirations?
Let us save our very best criticism for our very best books — because those are the books whose flaws are worth discussing, and those are the authors who we want to see grow.
I’ve recently been reading a lot of short stories by Edwardian master Saki (the pen name of HH Munro). The stories are largely wonderful — a combination of funny and macabre that I haven’t seen since Roald Dahl. Speaking of Dahl, he was a huge fan of Saki. Here’s his blurb on the back of the Complete Works:
“In all literature, he was the first to employ successfully a wildly outrageous premise in order to make a serious point. I love that. And today the best of his stories are still better than the best of just about every other writer around.” – Roald Dahl on Saki
Why is this interesting? Well, I have recently been thinking about Betsy Bird’s SLJ poll of the top 100 children’s books — in her piece on Matilda, Betsy mentions a rumor that the character of Matilda was originally conceived to be “a nasty little girl, somewhat in the same vein of Belloc’s Matilda Who Told Lies and Was Burned to Death. Revision after revision turned her instead into the sweet little thing we all know and love today.”
This seems like a good comparison, but for the fact that Belloc’s Matilda is not terribly smart. So imagine my surprise and delight when a few weeks ago, while reading Saki’s short story “The Boar-Pig“, I encounter a shrewd little girl named Matilda Cuvering whose sole mission in life is to terrorize stupid adults. In the story, Matilda humiliates and extorts a pair of social climbers trying to crash a garden party. And she doesn’t limit her wrath to adults:
“I was told to imitate Claude, that’s my young cousin, who never does anything wrong … It seems [My aunts] thought I ate too much raspberry trifle at lunch, and they said Claude never eats too much raspberry trifle. Well, Claude always goes to sleep for half an hour after lunch, because he’s told to, and I waited till he was asleep, and tied his hands and started forcible feeding with a whole bucketful of raspberry trifle … Lots of it went on to his sailor-suit and some of it on to the bed, but a good deal went down Claude’s throat, and they can’t say again that he has never been known to eat too much raspberry trifle.”
Of course, we’ll never know for certain whether Dahl had this character in mind when he created Matilda Wormwood, but I can’t help but wonder.
One of the things I’ve been thinking about a lot lately are the differences between cable and network television. This is not a new topic. Much hay has been made of the way pay-channels like HBO and Showtime don’t have to worry about commercial breaks … but why is it that even the shows on “free” cable channels like FX and AMC still feel better than network shows?
For me, one essential factor is the difference in season lengths. Cable TV shows generally only run for 11-13 episodes per season, while network shows nearly double that number. Obviously, a writer needing to produce twice as much content in the same year might end up sacrificing quality for speed … but what if there were another reason? What if a shorter season was actually linked to better storytelling in some essential way?
This week I’ve been enjoying reading the AV Club’s series of interviews with “Freaks & Geeks” creator Paul Feig, in which he talks through the writing and shooting of every episode in the short-lived series. In the interview, Feig discusses how he and co-creator Judd Apatow discovered early on they were being cancelled at the end of the season:
We all just went into scramble mode and started saying, “Okay, we’ve got to play out these storylines we wanted to do [in future seasons], so that when we get canceled, we won’t go bummed out.”
This comment was sort of an “Aha!” moment for me. Suddenly, Feig and co-creator Judd Apatow had to cram all the best story parts into the final six episodes. And maybe that’s why “Freaks & Geeks” was such a brilliant show — every episode felt like it was truly an event. I can’t help but wonder if the show would have been quite as strong without the axe hanging over the creators’ heads?
Going back to the question of cable shows, I can’t help but think of how Feig’s experience applies to season premieres and finales. Premieres and finales are where a series delvers its biggest dramatic punch — rules are changed, people are killed, stakes are raised. A little basic math informs me that a cable show (whose seasons end after just 13 episodes) will have those moments twice as often as a network show. No matter how you cut it, that gives the cable show a huge storytelling advantage because it disallows filler.
How does this apply to writing in general? I suspect it connects somehow to series books, but I haven’t worked that part out. In the meantime, it’s simply a powerful parable about the importance of not holding anything back. I’m currently in the middle of a second book, and I’m constantly getting exciting story ideas that I think I should save for a story in the distant future. That’s ridiculous. I should be putting everything into the book I’m writing now. I should be treating this book like the last one I may ever get to write.
By: Jonathan Auxier,
on 3/20/2012
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Hi there! It’s been a while since my last post. I’ve been doing lots of school visits all over the country and am finally home working on my next book(!). In the meantime, you should check out my recent interview over at Novel Novice. They’re dedicating the entire month of March to Middle-Grade books and I was lucky enough to be featured!
Aside from the usual topics of reading and the power of children’s literature, we also discussed more profound things like what I like on my pizza and what dead person I would most love to have dinner with. Even better, they asked me to draw a picture for them … I decided to go with a velociraptor eating a puppy sandwich:
Just looking at it makes me hungry! To read the whole interview, click here:
Exclusive Q&A with Peter Nimble author Jonathan Auxier
By: Jonathan Auxier,
on 1/26/2012
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Ever asked yourself why science-fiction came about in the 19th century? Recently I listened to a series of interviews that Bill Moyers conducted with science-fiction wizard Isaac Asimov. Asimov gave a description of the origins of science fiction that really grabbed me:
“The fact is that society is always changing, but the rate of change has been accelerating all through history for a variety of reasons. … It was only with the coming of the industrial revolution that the rate of change became fast enough to be visible in a single lifetime. So people became aware that not only were things changing, but they would continue to change after they died. And that was when science fiction came into being (as opposed to fantasy and adventure tales) because people knew that they would die before they could see the changes that would happen in the next century so it would be nice to imagine what they might be.”
Sounds pretty dead-on, if you ask me. If you want to watch the whole interview, click the link below:
By: Jonathan Auxier,
on 1/16/2012
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Some months ago, the kind folks at Project Mayhem ran a very kind review of Peter Nimble. Last week, they asked me to contribute something for a post about what authors miss from their pre-published days. As fun as being published is, I could think of at least one thing that I miss from the old days of blindly hoping for publication — allow me to excerpt:
Before I had a book in the world, I had no real sense of my audience. Audience was an abstract idea that couldn’t be pinned down and had little say in my storytelling. With the publication of Peter Nimble, however, I’ve suddenly found myself writing stories with specific readers in mind. It’s hard to type a sentence without thinking: I wonder what Librarian X or Critic Y will think of this? While such thoughts may be helpful during revisions, they can be crippling to the early stages of the creative process.
Project Mayhem also got contributions from authors Kate Messner and Stephen Messer. To read their responses and some great reader comments, check out the link below:
PROJECT MAYHEM: Rushing Towards Your Dream? Wait.
By: Jonathan Auxier,
on 1/12/2012
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A few weeks back, awesome teacher Mark Holtzen wrote in with a question. His class was just finishing a unit on Roald Dahl, and he wanted me to share with them how Dahl has influenced my writing. I figured my response might be of interest to readers of The Scop:
I think one of the things that makes Roald Dahl so fascinating is the way he writes grown-up characters. A lot of people talk about how he always makes the adults in his books mean or stupid … but that’s only half the story. For every Trunchbull there is a Miss Honey — a person who helps the hero become who they were meant to be. When I think of my favorite characters in Dahl’s books, I think of the wonderful grownups who guide and care for the young heroes:
Miss Honey from Matilda
The Queen from The BFG
The Old Man from James and the Giant Peach
Grandpa Joe from Charlie & the Chocolate Factory
When I ask myself why Dahl would make sure that every book has at least one good adult character, I can’t help but think of the final page of Danny the Champion of the World:
So based on what he’s saying there, it seems like his adult characters — good and bad — are actually meant to be a lesson for young readers about how to grow up. Dahl wants everyone who reads his books to see the difference between a dreadful parent and a delightful one … and hopefully resolve to become the latter.
This is something I tried to remember while writing Peter Nimble. The book has its share of awful grownups, but there are also one or two adults in Peter’s life (The Professor, Sir Tode, Simon) who are a bit more “sparky” … and having those grownups in your life makes all the difference.
By: Jonathan Auxier,
on 1/9/2012
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I was featured in the Pittsburgh Tribune-Review this Sunday. For those interested, you can read my interview here. The photograph is of me sitting in the local Argentinian coffee shop where I wrote the first draft of Peter Nimble back when I was in graduate school.
I’ve recently had a lot of readers/teachers/parents write me to ask about biblical allusions in Peter Nimble. Among them was my Trib interviewer, Rege Behe, who couldn’t help but notice the similarities between baby Peter in his floating basket and baby Moses in the reeds. That led to a pretty fun conversation about biblical tropes in literature (which are ubiquitous).
Pittsburgh Tribune-Review: Auxier draws on fascination with children’s literature for ‘Peter Nimble’
By: Jonathan Auxier,
on 1/6/2012
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This week, Peter Nimble hits bookstores in Merrie Olde England! It’s being published by Scholastic UK, and it looks 100% awesome. As you can see, Scholastic decided to go with the US cover art — which I wholeheartedly support. Even better, they added GOLD FOIL to the logo.
Gold foil, people!
To celebrate, I’m running a special giveaway for UK readers. Winners will get a signed copy of Peter Nimble with a hand-drawn illustration/inscription inside. All you have to do is the following:
1) Follow me on Twitter or add me to your circles on Google+
2) Either re-tweet this announcement on Twitter or post something about Peter Nimble on your blog or (if you’ve already read the book), post a short Peter Nimble review on Amazon.co.uk or Goodreads
3) Leave a comment on this blog with a link to your post/tweet
That’s it! Follow those steps and Bob’s your uncle! Now get Tweeting!
By: Jonathan Auxier,
on 9/28/2011
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Last week, I had the pleasure of watching a staged adaptation of CS Lewis’ Till We Have Faces. In advance of the show, I sat down and read the book. There was something near the end of the story that seemed like a good jumping-off point for a topic I’ve been meaning to blog about for ages.
First, a little setup: Lewis’ book is a retelling of the myth of Cupid & Psyche. It follows Psyche’s scorned older sister, Orual. After losing her beloved sister, Orual becomes embittered and angry. At the end of the story, she finally gets an audience before the gods — a chance to make her case for how they have wronged her. But instead of giving a sympathetic plea, she unleashes a tirade that betrays her own selfishness.
Orual hears the ugliness of her own anger, and it prompts a revelation:
“Lightly men talk of saying what they mean. … When the time comes to you at which you will be forced at last to utter the speech which has lain at the center of your soul for years, which you have, all that time, idiot-like, been saying over and over, you’ll not talk about joy of words. I saw well why the gods do not speak to us openly, nor let us answer. Till that word can be dug out of us, why should we hear the babble that we think we mean? How can they meet us face to face till we have faces?“
This “word” that Lewis eludes to is the magical, rare moment when a person sees him or herself with clarity for the first time. Aristotle (the grandfather of writing analysis) had a word for this moment in a character’s journey: “anagnorisis.”
Let’s let the man himself explain the term (through Wikipedia):
There you have it. Anagnorisis is the moment when someone understands a Truth so powerful that it effects change in their lives. I don’t know about you, but this moment is the reason I read stories. In fact, I judge the quality of a story by the quality of its anagnorisis, because when done right, I share in the character’s epiphany.
A great number of Aristotle’s playwriting terms have survived into the present age (climax, catharsis), but none of them are so valuable to understanding the power of a story as anagnorisis. Unfortunately, this word is all but forgotten — it’s not even in the OED. 
I have a card with “anagnorisis”
By: Jonathan Auxier,
on 10/5/2011
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Hey, Readers! Today I have a treat for you lucky folk in the form of a wonderful guest post by my friend Rob. Some months ago, Rob and I found ourselves in a debate about stories that include a “chosen one” (read about it here). Rob has some interesting ideas — including a theory as to why Harry Potter isn’t really a hero. I’ll let him explain …
* * *
Hi. I’m Rob. Jonathan and I were good friends back when I was handsomer and less hairy. I live in South Korea (not the scary one), and write a blog about South Korea. I’m no expert in fantasy or young adult books, but I am a breathless lover of awesome things and a frustrated thinker-abouter (some editors prefer ‘think-abouterer’) for things that try to be awesome but fail: for example, stories, songs and raspberry sorbets.
We once discussed what Jonathan called “prophecy stories,” stories featuring “Chosen Ones” like Harry Potter, Ender Wiggin and King Arthur, here, here, here and here. “Chosen Ones” have some great destiny expected (sometimes prophesied) of them. Now, I thrill to a great hero story, but not any old hero thrills me: I’m not easy. So let’s talk about some “Chosen Ones” I adore:
**Spoiler Alerts** for The Harry Potter Series, Ender’s Game, and Avatar: The Last Airbender (TV series)
Harry Potter started off as my favorite hero ever. The first three books were fun and gripping, the characters were lively and hilarious. Courage, cleverness, and awesome friends helped Harry, and the author threw him a rope when he got in too deep.
Then, in book four, Harry’s preparations for the Triwizard Tournament were as last-minute and half-hearted as his quest for a date to the Yule Ball. When Harry learns he won the tournament because somebody wanted him to, a hero would think, “That should have been my hide. I’d better not bank on luck again.” The time had come to start kicking butt through resourcefulness and preparedness, not courage and luck.
Cue training montage:
Harry forms Dumbledore’s Army. He also lies about his connection with Voldemort, quits Occlumency, walks into more traps, and fails to get the information Dumbledore needs without JK Rowlicis… oops I mean felix felicis. Instead of watching a kid learn from mistakes and improve, we watch Harry beat himself up for his mistakes and resent a lot of stuff. Holden Caulfield, yes. Heroic, no.
But t
By: Jonathan Auxier,
on 10/7/2011
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This weekend, I’m headed up to Portland for the Wordstock Writer’s Festival! I’ll be doing signings, reading, a few panels about writing for young readers (with a whole host of awesome authors). What’s more, I’m also teaching a workshop this Sunday:
ONE ARM TIED BEHIND YOUR BACK:
“Harnessing the Hurdles Unique to Your Work-in-Progress”
This topic was borne out of a recent observation made by Mary. It came during the heat of final revisions for Peter Nimble. I was cursing how much extra work it was to tell a visually rich story from the perspective of a blind child — going through every line to make sure I wasn’t taking my own sight for granted. Mary heard my grumbling and responded with typical perspicacity: “But isn’t that what you always do? You only pick the stories that force you to write with one arm tied behind your back.”
Of course, she was right. I have never had a shortage of story ideas, but the projects I actually finish all contain some ridiculous formal hurdle that makes them insanely difficult. Why write a feature film when I can write a silent feature film? Why tell a horror story when I can tell a horror story for children? Why inhabit the real world when I can build an entirely different world from scratch?
Readers love stories that tackle hurdles, but writing them is a serious pain! Now, however, I’m starting to believe that the formal challenge is the very thing that gets me through a draft — long after I have grown bored with my plot and characters, I have this “Pet Hurdle” to keep me involved. Since then, I’ve started doodling pictures of my Pet Hurdle:
Isn’t he cute? The workshop on Sunday will walk writers through the process of identifying the Pet Hurdle in their own work-in-progress and give them some tools for turning that challenge into an asset.
It makes me wonder: if Peter Nimble hadn’t been blind … would I even have finished telling his story?
By: Jonathan Auxier,
on 10/12/2011
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I’ve got an interview up at the WIRED GeekDad blog today. This is a big deal for me, as I’ve been a gigiantic fan of the blog ever since they taught me about this dot-matrix printer made from Legos and Crayola markers:
I was interviewed by Jonathan Liu, who also happens to be a virtuoso Etch-a-Sketch artist. Check it out:
You can see more of his wizardry at Rainy Bay Art. (He also does commissions … don’t think I’m not tempted!)
And while you’re at it, check out our interview. Mr Liu and I covered a ton of great topics — including the importance of men modeling reading, the impact of nonsense on children’s literature, the writing process, Laurence Sterne, yo-yos, etc. Also, I finally talk about the single work of children’s literature that influenced me more than any other! (Hint: it’s NOT Peter Pan!) Wanna know what book it was? Find out here.
By: Jonathan Auxier,
on 10/14/2011
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First off, a note for the locals: I’m having a signing this Sunday at 5pm at lovely Laguna beach books! You should come by and say hello! For directions and more info, click here. If you can’t make it, I’d love for you to spread the news by Tweeting the word — just click here!
ON TO REAL BUSINESS: This week there was a kerfuffle about a NYT op-ed by children’s lit scholar Maria Tatar called “No More Adventures in Wonderland.” Tatar argues that children’s books of the present lack the “redemptive beauty, cathartic humor and healing magic of an earlier time.”
Lots of people in the kidlit community got very upset by this article. I urge you to read the comments at the School Library Journal’s Heavy Medal and Fuze #8 blogs. I generally agree that Tatar is exercising some willful blindness (I’d hardly call Peter Pan a “redemptive” figure), but I also think the children’s publishing community does themselves a disservice by automatically shouting down an established children’s literature scholar such as Tatar.
For my money, the best response has come from Monica Edinger, who took a moment to consider why Tatar chose Peter Pan and Alice in Wonderland as her touchstones. Edinger rightly observes that both books were very much about the act of constructing a world in which actual children (the Liddels and the Davies) were meant to play. Even more, details in both Neverland and Wonderland were often taken from the children’s own imaginative adventures.
Perhaps what Tatar is trying to say is that in this current market of well-plotted, well-written stories — ones that adhere closely to the rules of dramatic structure — we lose the chance to create worlds that are incomplete … places that invite a child not to re-create the actions of a hero, but to inhabit the same spaces that the hero inhabits?
The last five weeks have been an insane grind for Team Auxier. I was planning to do several posts announcing various things as they came up, but time got away from me. Instead, I’m just going down the list …
BOOK TOUR
I’ve been touring schools and bookstores all over California — about thirty events in the last month. (Click here to see pictures from a recent event … and video of me doing a favorite YO-YO trick!) I also managed to sneak out to Wordstock in Portland and the Miami Book Fair International.
I OPTIONED A MOVIE
To real producers! With real money! The story is one I’ve been working on for a while — a period ghost tale in the tradition of Washington Irving about a haunted tree. The one problem was that selling the movie meant I had to completely re-write the last half while on book tour. I finished last night!
WE MOVED!
This month, Mary and I packed up all our dishes and made the 3000 mile trek to Pittsburgh, PA! The ‘Burgh is a wonderful city that has topped virtually every “most livable” list for the last decade. Also, we met there.
WE BOUGHT A HOUSE!
One great thing about Pittsburgh is an abundance of amazing old homes. Coming from the West Coast, I thrill at the idea of living in something not covered in stucco. As of last night, Mary and I are the owners of this hundred year-old gem on a tree-lined street in Regent Square. How’s that for a black Friday purchase?
AND THE LAST THING …
You might be asking yourself why a young couple might leave sunny Los Angeles for snowy Pittsburgh? Well, Mary grew up here, and we want to be near family when we have our baby in May. Did I mention we’re having a baby? Because we so totally are.
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