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It's time to celebrate the tushy. You know, that body part that some of us love, some of us hate, but all of us have. If you want to see what all the fuss is about, follow the link here.
And be sure to check out The Tushy Book by Fran Manushkin, illustrated by Tracy Dockray.
Have you ever wondered what a chick does every day? Follow the star of Maria van Lieshout's Peep!: A Little Book About Taking a Leap on Twitter. He's just started and needs fans. And while you're at it, you can follow Feiwel and Friends, too.
Wow! Lisa Mantchev's Eyes Like Stars is really taking off! Check out these advance blogger reviews. The actual book will be in theatres...erm...stores near you on July 7.
And my personal favorite...teen blogger Frenetic Reader, who is clearly going places in the review world.
Check out Andrew Smith's interview at one of his local radio stations. He talks about boys and reading, and his next book, In the Path of Falling Objects.
And here is a podcast from a reading group at Seneca Valley Intermediate High School in Pennsylvania. Just click on the Ghost Medicine image in the bottom right-hand corner.
Stay tuned for Andrew's next book, In the Path of Falling Objects, coming in October!
Greg Taylor is the author of Killer Pizza, available May 26.
I’ve been writing screenplays for quite a few years now, whereas book writing is something relatively new for me. Regarding the differences between writing books and writing scripts, some of them I like, some not so much. Books take a lot longer to write, at least for me they do, compared to screenplays, so that’s one of the things I don’t like about writing books. However, one of the things I really like about writing books—as opposed to scripts—is what I’ll call the author/reader equation. Simply put, it looks like this:
AUTHOR + EDITOR/PUBLISHER + READER = IMAGE
The editor/publisher can have a strong influence on what a book ultimately becomes. They did in my case, so that’s why they are included in my equation.
By contrast, here is what I’ll call the screenwriter/viewer equation:
SCREENWRITER + STUDIO EXECUTIVE + PRODUCER + DIRECTOR + CINEMATOGRAPHER + PRODUCTION DESIGNER + COSTUME DESIGNER + SPECIAL EFFECTS GUYS + CASTING DIRECTOR + ACTORS + EDITOR = IMAGE
Wow. Big difference between those two equations. The obvious one is how many more people are involved in the second equation, and I think I might have even left out a few. But it’s a valid equation. Every single one of those people can have a strong influence on the images that ultimately wind up on the screen.
For me, however, the more important difference between the two equations is this: The viewer—the equivalent of the reader in the first equation—is nowhere to be found in the second equation. That seems pretty profound to me. Lewis Buzbee, in his wonderful book The Yellow-Lighted Bookshop, makes a similar observation of the differences between reading books and watching movies. He writes:
“A film presents images; a book creates them inside the reader, with the reader's active participation. Books are good for your brain. Neurologists have found that, when watching television or film, the viewer’s eyes remain idle, straight ahead, but when reading, the actual physical movement of scanning the page from left to right (or right to left, or up and down, depending) stimulates and conditions the brain, a Stairmaster of the mind.”
I’m tempted to write something like . . . watch too many movies, you become a stare-straight-ahead, lifeless zombie. Read a bunch of books . . . it’s Einstein-time. I won’t, however, because that’s simply not true. After all, I’ve watched more than my share of movies over the years, and I’m still a somewhat functioning human being.
The fact is, I’ve been a lifelong fan of the movies, and always will be. They possess a very special kind of magic that no other art form does. But the same can obviously be said of a book, which offers something that watching a movie or TV program, playing a video game, or even reading a comic book can’t provide. It’s that truly intimate connection between the reader and author.
Unlike movies and video games and comic books, only books present a participant with the opportunity to create “mind images.” No matter how descriptive an author may be, it is the reader who ultimately forms an image in his/her head of what the characters and settings look like (at least until the movie comes out), embellishing the author’s descriptions with his/her own individual touches. There’s a beauty in that that touches me . . . yes, in a very profound way.
It’s because of this unique connection between a reader and author that books will always be with us. They have to be. We need them. They’re fundamental, necessary. And, yes . . . magical, in their own special way.
I mean, really. Words on a page that translate into images that only exist in the mind? If that’s not magic, what is?
Are you ready to pre-order your copy of Killer Pizza? You can do so at any of the retailers below, or ask at your local book store.
And don't forget to become a fan on Facebook!
Greg Taylor is a screenwriter, and the author of a new book Killer Pizza, available in stores May 26. He's also from my hometown of Pittsburgh, and can share many of the spooky things about that city. If you have a scary story about your hometown, feel free to leave it in the comments box.
I think it was inevitable that Killer Pizza, my first book, would be about kids fighting monsters. I grew up in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Tales of monsters, ghosts, vampires, zombies . . . it was like they were part of the fabric of the city.
For starters, there were George Romero’s incredibly influential "Dead" movies, which were filmed in the Pittsburgh area. I was a teenager when I saw a first run showing of Night of the Living Dead at the Echo Drive-In. As my friends and I waited that night for it to get dark enough for the film to begin, we were cautiously excited about seeing NOTLD. A local Pittsburgher—Mr. Romero was born in New York City, but made the ‘burgh his home after attending Carnegie-Mellon University—had made a movie, a real one, one that was actually being shown in the theaters, in our own home town. How cool was that? On the other hand, how good could it possibly be?
There was no way for us to know that the low budget back-and-white film would become one of the most famous horror movies ever made, or that it would earn a spot in the National Film Registry of the Library of Congress of the United States. What did become joltingly clear to us that night, however, was that we were watching a very different, and very unsettling, kind of horror movie.
Besides Romero’s famous zombies, there was Chiller Theater, a wildly popular local Saturday late-night program that aired a giddy mix of classic Universal horror, 50’s sci-fi, a smattering of Japanese creature features . . . and that was just for starters. CT was hosted by "Chilly Billy" Cardille, who was immortalized by his brief appearance as a reporter at the end of Night of the Living Dead. I absolutely loved Chiller Theater. I watched it as often as I could. Which turned out to be pretty often, seeing as I was free many Saturday nights throughout my teen years.
As far as urban legends go, Pittsburgh has a famous one called "The Green Man." The version I heard was that a utility man was fried to a crisp while working on a power line. Immensely unhappy with his electrifying demise, the man decided to stick around. His greenish glowing ghost haunts a creepy tunnel south of the city to this very day. (I grew up not far from that tunnel, in Pleasant Hills.)
With these kinds of influences, this kind of inspiration, how could I not write a book called Killer Pizza? My hope is that people have as much fun reading KP as I had watching Chiller Theater and going to the Echo. (I especially loved the drive-in Dusk ‘til Dawn horror movie marathons. Five back-to-back screamers and free coffee and donuts in the morning for those crazy enough to stay the entire night.) I guess you could say that KP is my literary, and affectionate, tip of the hat to all those scary movies I couldn’t get enough of when I was the same age as Toby, Annabel and Strobe, the three teens in Killer Pizza.
So, from L.A.—where I now live—a loud shout-out of thanks to Pittsburgh, George Romero, "Chilly Billy Cardilly," the sadly defunct Echo, and the Green Man.
Killer Pizza simply wouldn’t exist without you.
Don't forget to become a fan of Killer Pizza on Facebook!
Greg Taylor is the author of Killer Pizza, available May 26. It’s time to get ready—monsters may be invading your hometown this summer. If you think you have what it takes to be a Monster Combat Officer, become a Facebook fan of Killer Pizza today. We’ll be waiting for you!
A few months ago, I became concerned that not one middle-grade reader had read Killer Pizza. At the time, my wife and daughter had read it, a friend of mine had read it, my agent and the good people at Feiwel and Friends had read it, but let’s face it . . . they’re all adults. I value their opinions, of course, but an obsession had taken hold. I needed to know, before Killer Pizza was published, if the book really worked for 10 to 14 year olds, or not.
So I went on a quest . . . a quest to find a middle-grade reader. I had my work cut out for me. Both of my children are in their 20’s, all of my friends’ and relative’s children are past middle-grade age. Fortunately, the day before my twice-a-year visit to my dermatologist—my Scottish skin and the California sun are not a match made in heaven—I remembered something. Dr. Dye (who definitely has a sense of humor about his wonderful name) had told me on previous visits that his 11-year-old son, Alex, was a voracious reader. All the Harry Potters, recently into the Alex Rider series, etc. Could it be that I had found my middle-grade reader? The next day, with mounting excitement, I took a galley (advance reader’s copy) of Killer Pizza with me when I went for my appointment with Dr. Dye.
Imagine my relief when the good doctor told me that he would pass KP onto Alex. I had written a little hello to Alex inside the book, and included my e-mail address, just in case he might want to let me know what he thought of the book.
OK, first part of my quest . . . done. I had gotten the book into the hands of an actual 11-year-old. But then came the wait. And the doubts. What if Alex didn't like KP? Worse, what if I never heard from him? How embarrassing would that be, the next time I went out to see Dr. Dye? To hear, second-hand from my dermatologist that his son just didn’t go for the book.
Luckily, I didn't have to wait long. Five days after Alex received KP, I received this e-mail:
“Mr. Taylor,
Thank you for the awesome book! It was exciting! I liked how it always made me want to keep reading. You really got to know the characters well, and there was always something interesting happening. It seemed realistic, even though it was a fantasy. It seemed like it could really happen, like in the Harry Potter series, the muggles have no idea that magic exists. Similarly, in Killer Pizza, the rest of Hidden Hills have no idea that monsters could be living right next door. I liked that it had a complete ending, but gave the idea that another book is around the corner. So I hope that the second Killer Pizza is on the way. This will be a great hit for kids of all ages! This is a great book! Good luck!
Thanks again and I hope my dad is taking good care of you. Next we’ll see if it scares my little sister!
Sincerely,
Alex Dye
P.S. Don’t forget to bring another editor in for the spelling mistakes. Just a few.”
My first reaction after reading Alex’s e-mail was elation, of course. He liked it. He really, really liked it. My second reaction was . . . wait, do 11-year-olds actually write like this? I’m not sure about other 11-year-olds, but in Alex’s case, they do.
So . . . in the end, my quest was successful. Killer Pizza’s first middle-grade reader had read the book, and gave it a thumb’s up. I have no idea what the reaction will be from other middle-grade readers when KP is published, but for now, I’m good. And for that, I want to thank Alex Dye.
Killer Pizza’s first “official reader.”
P.S. Alex’s sister, Hannah, did read KP. Alex and Hannah’s mother wrote to let me know that Hannah was writing a book report on it, and had made a Killer Pizza board game as part of the report.
I think I love the Dye family.
Matthew Cordell is the illustrator of Mighty Casey, written by James Preller. It's in stores now!
James Preller: When Allison at Feiwel and Friends asked if I’d be willing to interview Matthew Cordell, I was like, “Again? Frankly, I’m a little tired of the guy.”
You see, I interviewed him at my blog, back in October.
But Allison was persistent, mentioned something about Matthew having feelings, being a sensitive artist or whatever, so I relented. And the truth is: I’m crazy about Matthew and I think he’s one of the bright, creative, up-and-coming talents in children’s books. If he was a hand of poker that I’d been dealt, I’d be all in.
And look, here he comes now . . .
Hey, Matthew. I keep thinking how cool it is that you are married to a librarian who is also a writer, the fabulous Julie Halpern. In Hollywood terms, does that make you guys . . . Brangelina? Or more of a Sonny & Cher type thing?
Matthew Cordell: Hmm. As much as both of those comparisons make we wanna spew, I do quite like the idea of being chased by paparazzi and being called Mulie (myoo-lee). Or Jatt (jatt).
J: Congratulations, again, on your brand spanking new baby. How’s that been? When your first child is born, that’s the day you cross over: You are a father, forevermore. You can have a bunch more kids, but there’s nothing like that tidal shift of the first born.
M: Being a dad is the absolute best thing I’ve ever done (alongside marrying Julie, you know). Such a great time right now. Being a stay-at-home dad and stay-at-home illustrator—that’s proven to be a challenge. I’m still working on that. But, seriously, complaints are small and few.
J: How is the Mr. Mom thing going? Maybe now you’ll start to hate, like me, the way dads are portrayed in the media. You know, inept. Here comes big dumb Papa Berenstain, without a thought in his skull . . .
M: I haven’t picked up on that, yet. I know it’s all bucking-the-system, even though that “system” seems to have been upended for a long time now. But I sort of expect some of the judgies to come out eventually. Papa Berenstains unite!
J: So, let’s turn our attention now to shamelessly plugging our own books. What do you say?
M: I’m all over that. I’m all about that. I’m all up in that. I’m all out of overused slang for this kind of answer.
J: You make me laugh. But not out loud, like, LOL. And definitely not ROTFLMAO. Whenever anyone types that, I think: Rolling On The Floor? Really? It sounds more like a seizure than a good laugh. I mean, I NEVER roll on the floor and laugh anything off. So to be clear, my laugh at your joke was an inward, silent, tee-hee kind of thing. Anyway! When you first read the manuscript for Mighty Casey, what kinds of things ran through your mind? Were you seeing images immediately?
M: I did see some stuff. In fact, if we go back to that time, I was asked by Liz (Szabla, our lovely editor) to pitch (pun intended) some sketches for the title character. My original idea was to have Casey as a big ol’ slugger. Kind of an over-slugger, actually, who swings too hard and misses too hard. So I worked those up quickly—I was really excited to be involved. And I e-mailed them to Liz, and to you, by way of Liz. Turned out Casey, in your mind, was to be not on the hefty side, but on the light light-weight side. Which, really, made perfect sense. So I reworked the look, and Casey is who he is today because of that little exchange.
J: Yes, I remember that. I had just coached at that level, and those kids are so small; most boys have these skinny arms and legs under big old helmets. I’m glad to see that you are writing now, too. I can’t wait to see Trouble Gum (Feiwel and Friends, Fall 2009). Is it really about . . . a wad of pink . . . gum?
M: Sort of. More like several wads of gum that get between two bored little pig brothers. Big pig gum trouble ensues and Mom isn’t happy. It was so, so sweet to have the reins on the whole thing for the first time. I’m hooked. And I can’t wait to take a crack at another.
J: Bernard Waber once commented that he wrote to please the illustrator part of himself. Are you aware of that when you are writing? Is it still pictures first for you? How does that work?
M: Whenever I get a story idea, yeah, it usually comes from some kind of image. Being of the visual persuasion, it tends to start that way for me. Which, I think, works out well in the picture book format. Since it’s a book that’s heavy in picture. But lately, I’ve been getting little story ideas, and the imagery and characters flow shortly afterward. I agree with Mr. Waber, and I do think I tend to nix the idea buds that don’t have good pic potential. Or, I end up bending it in such a way that it’ll make for better drawing.
J: You also have Toot Toot Zoom! coming out. Next month, right? It sounds like a wonderful, sort of old-fashioned story, like something Arnold Lobel might have imagined.
M: I love this story (by the great Phyllis Root) and I feel so lucky to have gotten picked to illustrate it. Yeah, it does have a nice, old-fashioned appeal. Timeless in that way. It’s got good quirk without being too much quirk. Very stylish, under-stated moments in the writing. And I’m a big fan of the anthropomorphic animal stories. I do love to make the animals go wild.
J: Hey, go stare at that baby, proud papa. As always, it’s been a pleasure hanging out with you, my friend.
M: Thanks much, JP. Right back ‘atcha. And I look forward to you interviewing me again in the nearest future.
Would you like your own copy of Mighty Casey?
Check out Mighty Casey, now available at your local bookstore!
Matthew Cordell: In honor of the release of our spanking new picture book, Mighty Casey, I (the illustrator) have been asked to interview James Preller (the author). This is my very first interview as interviewer ever. So today I ask dear James (that’s Jimmy if you’re nasty) to step up to plate and answer a round of Casey-inspired questions.
Mr. Preller! We begin.
I can assume that many writers, like many illustrators, are particular about how they work and where they work. Where do you like to do your writing? And what are your tools? The pen, the old-timey typewriter, word processor, or personal computer?
James: Matt! Let me begin by saying—and since this is your first interview, no one would expect you to know this, but—you don’t actually have to sit on my lap during an interview. It’s not like a Santa thing.
M: Whoops!
J: To answer your question, I have a basement office in my home and basically work standard hours, sitting at my computer. Sometimes I like to go Old School and take a notebook or legal pad to the library and write first drafts by hand. Sometimes I need to get out of the house; sometimes I need to escape the plugged-in distraction of the Internet, Facebook, blogging time-suck.
M: Your well-known Jigsaw Jones series debuted in 2001, correct? Was that your official start in the world of children’s lit? How did that first Jigsaw come to be? You used to work in some other capacity at Scholastic (Jigsaw’s publisher) before that time?
J: The first Jigsaw Jones book, The Case of Hermie the Missing Hamster, came out in 1998. He’s been in second grade for eleven years, so you can imagine my confusion when an editor tells me they want a Halloween theme. I’m like, “I did that already, four times.” I got hired as a junior copywriter at Scholastic, not too long after college, early in 1985. Starting salary: $12,500. I was living large, needless to say. I wrote the SeeSaw Book Club. Published my first book in 1986, called Maxx Trax: Avalanche Rescue! Sold more than a million copies, but they wouldn’t give me a royalty deal, so I made only three thousand bucks. But, hey, who remembers stuff like that? The Irish don’t hold grudges.
M: Most of your work is for a slightly older set. Had you tried your hand at picture book writing before Mighty Casey, or is this your first time out?
J: I’ve written some easy readers, Wake Me in Spring and Hiccups for Elephant, also a hardcover picture book that’s now out of print, Cardinal & Sunflower. But I’d just about given up on the idea of picture books—my first love in children’s books—because I became confused about what gets published and why. It felt like throwing darts in an unlit room.
M: What do you see are the major differences in crafting picture books vs. novels? With the novel format, you generally have the space to open up and write more at length. Less confined, I’d imagine, than picture books, where you really have to choose words wisely. Do you prefer writing one over another?
J: Well, there are two things at play here: picture books are dependent upon illustrations, so the writer is already in a strange position. With novels, you have more control over the finished product. Secondly, novels probably better suit my sensibilities. I find that I can’t force a picture book, which tends to be concept-driven and needs to perfectly distill an experience to its essence. With a novel, you have more opportunity to wander in and out of different rooms, and I think that better reflects how my mind natively operates.
M: You were a little league coach for several years—this being obvious inspiration for Casey. Are you still coaching? Did you have an actual Mighty Casey moment—as a coach—that led you to write this story?
J: Yes, I’m still hip-deep in Little League and youth sports in general, with three kids, ages 15, 9, and 8. I’ve coached a lot of kids over the years and seen a lot. At the same time, I’m shocked by how well I recall my own Little League experiences. I mean, I vividly recall games that I played in 40 years ago! That stuff mattered to me on a deep, deep level. It was what I cared about, what I loved, where my heart beat faster, you know? So, yeah, I have that adult perspective, but it’s mostly that I closely identify with that world.
M: So, the coaching brought you to Casey. How, then, did you decide to work from the Thayer poem, Casey at the Bat, as a premise for your Mighty Casey kids?
J: I wanted something with a classic feel. Baseball is so much about tradition and timelessness. I kept seeing new, elaborately illustrated versions of the Thayer poem, which seemed to be drifting farther and farther from a child’s core baseball experience. It hit me to transpose the action of the poem to the youngest level of Little League. The worst team ever, of course, is sort of a literary cliché, or time-honored formula, depending on your perspective. Once it was set on that Little League field, I could picture those kids in my mind and the comic possibilities presented themselves.
M: The kids in Casey are great. Really funny, and really all-over-the-place, out-of-control. One of the most out-of-control moments is your line, “Ronald the runt had to pee, and figured left field would do.” Pretty edgy, man! Did you have any problems keeping that in the book?
J: First of all, that’s absolutely true. Boys, in particular, will play and play and play until the last possible minute, then mid-pitch tear off to bathrooms in a wild, limping panic. Sometimes they don’t make it. Jean Feiwel and Liz Szabla totally got that, the truth of that moment, and humor, and they loved it. Which kind of surprised me, since I expected that it would be deleted. Somewhere along the line, however, a junior editor looked at the manuscript and instructed me to remove it. I sort of queried that and Jean overruled her. She even confided to me, “I’m proud of that scene.” Which made me laugh. Jean is this legendary editor, who has worked with great talent, and she’s proud of a kid peeing in left field.
M: In my experience, the author is not always deliberately brought together with the illustrator in these author/illustrator collaborations. In part, I’m guessing, because having the author included in illustration or design decisions could be, or might a little bit, or possibly maybe just could be a teeny tiny “too many cooks in the kitchen” sort of deal. I’m just sayin.’ In fact, on Casey, you and I never met ‘til the whole thing was wrapped. Do you often reach out to the illustrators of your books? I really like the exchange. It’s a little weird, even, without any at all.
J: It’s one of the shocking and disappointing aspects about children’s book publishing, the total separation of writer and illustrator. Maybe that’s why so many of the best books are created by the single writer-illustrator, like Sendak or McCloskey, where the two creative parts work in unison. But still, I get it. I think it’s about protecting the illustrator from the interfering writer, giving the artist the creative freedom to do his or her job, and not getting phone calls from writers that say, “Well, I really saw her with a little pointy nose with three asymmetrical freckles, and curly auburn hair, and . . .” You have to respect each individual’s role in the project. When the words are done, it’s the artist’s time to take over.
M: The publishing process, as we know, takes a pretty long time. Even though Casey has just come out, you actually wrote it, like, what—three or four years ago? Have you written more picture books since then? If so, when will that/those drop?
J: A Pirate’s Guide to First Grade will, um, “drop,” as you hipsters say, in 2010. Greg Ruth illustrated it and I’ve only seen two sketches so far. It’s fun to kick back at this point and let it all happen. Even better when you have total faith in your publisher, as I do with Feiwel and Friends.
M: You’re also, now, a celebrated fiction scribe. Six Innings was a critical darling. Do you have more fiction things on the horizon as well?
J: Most immediately, Bystander comes out this Fall. I’m really, really excited about this book, and so proud of it. Best thing I’ve ever done. In sound bite terms: Bullying in a middle school. The research on this one really inspired me—books, conversations with experts, time spent in middle schools—and I just tried to do something realistic and responsible, partly because I think so many previous books that touch on the topic are idealistic and unrealistic. I wanted my bully to have charisma, looks, verbal wit, and popularity. Once you do that, the true complexity of the issues comes forth. There are no simple answers. But these are the questions we need to ask.
M: Much success to you with the upcoming titles. To wrap, I sincerely enjoyed our being paired up for the almighty Mighty Casey. And should the stars align again, another fun book will come forth I’m sure. And should they not, Jimmy, we will always have Casey.
J: You know I love you, my brother from another mother. We’ll have this connection always. We’re friends—and I’m really, really happy about that.
Mighty Casey is available now:
John Coy is the author of Top of the Order available now!
I’ve found three things that make a big difference. The first is to find books that address the genuine interests of the particular student. My friend Bill McAuliffe tells the wonderful story of getting a letter from a student saying that the book he’d written was the best book in the history of the world. I asked Bill which book that was and he held up a copy of ATV Racing, a nonfiction book published by Capstone. For that reader, it’s the best book in the world, and congratulations to the adult who helped the student find it.
A second thing that makes a huge difference is bringing in men to give boys the message that reading is important. Too many boys hear that they should read almost exclusively from females: teachers, librarians, and mothers. They need to hear the message from men, otherwise some of them are skeptical and, believe it or not, even begin to think of reading as a female activity.
Bringing men in as guest readers, mentors, and speakers sends a powerful message. One school I visited set up a program where the members of the boys’ high-school basketball team came down to the local elementary school on game days to read to the third graders. The teacher who set up the program described the enthusiasm on reading day and said it was hard to decide who enjoyed the program more.
The third thing that makes a huge difference is allowing boys to be boys. I was recently in a school and overheard a fifth grade teacher warning her students about independent reading time. She said independent reading time does not include the Guinness Book of World Records. Guess who loves this book? Boys. Guess who gets the message that what they like to read isn’t valued?
In contrast, at another school, the librarian told me that they used to keep the Guinness Book of World Records as reference copies in the library. He said he watched the boys streaming down day after day to read about who had eaten the most hot dogs or who had the longest hair in the world and thought why are we keeping these in the library? He bought a bunch of them and now they are one of his most highly circulated titles.
But the most important thing adults can do to encourage reading is to connect with a particular child. Spend time with that child and find out what he or she is interested in. And if you have a fifth-grader who has concerns about going to middle school or enjoys baseball, Top of the Order might just be the ticket.
For the only thing more satisfying than teaching someone to read is having someone who claims they don’t like to read say, “I loved that book. Do you have another one like that?”
