I spent yesterday having an amazing time with the 4th graders at Mosinee Middle School in Mosinee, Wisconsin (thanks again, students and teachers!), and hurried home to Red Wing just in time to be late for rehearsal with Soapbox Players.  This is my excuse for yesterday’s postlessness.  Today’s will have to be a short one too, as I’m squeezed between revisions and appointments and more rehearsals.  As an apology, here’s a picture of Brom, in the sunniest corner of the couch.

So, as promised, I’m trying to blog at least once per day as THE SECOND SPY’s release date (July 5 – Have I repeated that enough yet?) approaches.  Consider this one giant, wordy drumroll.

I am neither very good nor very comfortable with talking about myself.  When someone gives me a big, open-ended prompt like, ‘Tell me about your books,’ or ‘Give us some stories about you,’ I begin to fold over and curl in on myself, as though I am trying to climb face-first into my shoes.  Therefore, for this series of rapid-fire entries, I am going to use the help of others by answering the questions that I am most frequently asked when I speak at schools, libraries, conferences, and bookstores.

And, at the end of each week, I’ll give a visual clue about what is to come in THE BOOKS OF ELSEWHERE, VOLUME THREE: THE SECOND SPY.

Let’s start with what may be the biggest question of all:

Why do you write?

All sorts of poetic, crazy, wonderful answers have been given to this question by all sorts of poetic, crazy, and wonderful people, but if you boil them down, it seems to me that all writers’ answers are variations on these three simple ones: 1. Because I want to.  2. Because I need to.  3. Because I’m good at it.

George Orwell said, “Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness.  One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand.”  I guess that falls into the need category.  (Also: Ouch.)  Here’s how Ray Bradbury put it: “If you did not write every day, the poisons would accumulate and you would begin to die, or act crazy or both – you must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.”  I suppose that’s a combination of need and want. (I love you, Ray Bradbury.)  Anne Sexton–one of my favorite poets–said, “When I am writing, I am doing the thing I was meant to do,” which sounds to me like all three.  Flannery O’Connor said, ‘Because I’m good at it.’ (Of course, she was Flannery O’Connor, and she could say things like that.)

We actually discussed this question over lunch one day during the Endangered Authors tour, and I blathered something about writing being the lens through which I see the world.  It’s the way I take in and transform everything around me and within me: All the memories, emotions, daydreams, questions, the images that I know will fade.  Changing these floating, fragile things into written words is the most exciting, most challenging, most absorbing thing I’ve ever done.  (Adam called it ‘reifying the ineffable,’ which is a much clearer way to put it.)  When we write, we take something that is completely immaterial and transform it into actual ink on an actual page (or virtual ink on a virtual page, which counts).  And that, to me, is magic.

There are things I’ve written just for myself–like journals and letters and certain poems–because I needed to shift the thoughts out of my head and onto a page, to take them from being something that controlled my mind and my emotions into something I could construct and change and even love.

There are things that I’ve written–like THE SHADOWS–for someone else.  I started that book because I’d had the image of Olive’s house lurking in my brain for a decade, and I wanted to turn it into a story that my brothers would have liked when they were kids.  When I finally finished it, I realized that other kids might like it too.

There are things that I’ve written because I wanted to challenge and stretch myself; because I wanted to share something strange or beautiful or frightening or funny with people I’ve never met and never will meet.  I never get tired of that effort.  I never feel 100% satisfied.  I always want to make the next thing better.

When I sit down to write, I have a swarm of motivations whirling around me.  I have a story that I want to tell.  I have characters I can’t wait to visit with, to hear what they’ll say and do next.  I get to practice the magic of turning thoughts and senses and emotions into words on a page.  And, these days, I have deadlines and contracts and (wonder of wonders) actual readers who are waiting to hear what will happen next.

So I guess my answer is: I write because I need to, because I want to, and because I’d like to get better at it.

There are now exactly sixty days until the release of THE BOOKS OF ELSEWHERE, VOLUME THREE: THE SECOND SPY.  Not that I’m excited or anything.

Last May, an artist named Tiffany J. Vincent got in touch with me.  Tiffany creates amazing, one-of-a-kind art objects inspired by works of fiction; for examples, check out her Harry Potter and Narnia pieces at her website, Curious Goods: www.curiousgood.com.  I drool over Bellatrix’s necklace.  Her niece, Anna (Hi, Anna!) is a fan of THE BOOKS OF ELSEWHERE, and Tiffany is currently at work on a full-sized replica of the McMartin grimoire, as described in SPELLBOUND.  As a preview, she sent me her smaller-scale test version of the book’s leather cover, and her gorgeous interpretation of the McMartin family tree on the frontispiece.

Here’s a closer look at each:

How lucky am I?  (I’ll answer that myself: Insanely lucky.)

The news has already spread via many writing and publishing blogs, but just in case a writer between the ages of 18 – 25 hasn’t heard about it yet and happens to be reading this: Hot Key Books, in cooperation with The Guardian, is launching a truly incredible prize for young writers of children’s/teen’s fiction.  You can get an overview here and find specifics at the Hot Key Books website.

Publishers Weekly just ran a piece on the Endangered Authors Tour.  For photos and on-the-road stories from my fellow Endangered Authors, read on.

I promised that I would try to post here every day for the two months leading up to the release date.  I already missed yesterday, so I’m not off to the most auspicious start, but I have Good Intentions and a Plan.  There will be more blogging.  Soon.  I swear it.

And thanks for sharing your excitement about THE SECOND SPY, everyone.  Knowing that readers are out there waiting to dive into Volume Three is an awfully welcoming feeling.  Thank you, thank you, thank you.

I’ve just returned from a two-week tour with three other middle grade authors, one brilliant improv actor, and a revolving cast of wonderful book reps, media escorts, and publicity folk.  En masse, we visited schools in Texas, California, and New York (thanks again to Visitation Academy and Eanes, Barton Hills, Sycamore, Fairlands, Los Alamitos, Santa Rita, and Covington elementary schools!), unfolded an incredibly collapsible set, and performed our “Endangered Authors” game show, as created by the Story Pirates.  After each stop, we’d pile back into our van like a bunch of bookish vikings and sail off to invade the next school.  We also made stops at Mrs. Nelson’s Toy and Book Shop, Hicklebee’s, and Vroman’s Bookstore in California, signed books for one sunny, breezy afternoon at the Los Angeles Times Book Festival (I saw Betty White!  From a great distance!  But that counts!), had dinner with Judy Blume and John Green and the rest of the Penguin Young Readers Group, and spoke on a panel and chatted with librarians at the Texas Library Association convention.

(Mid-show, at Eanes Elementary School. L to R: Adam Gidwitz, E.J. Altbacker, Jacqueline West, C. Alexander London, and Peter McNerney)

(Blurry writers gnawing ribs, in Austin)

(Playing stickball between school visits in California)

All of these hotels and dinners and run-ins with famous authors are so very, very different from my real writing life, which mostly involves shuffling around my house in wrinkled pajamas and dirty eyeglasses, microwaving a third cup of coffee.  I miss my tour cohorts, who were so marvelous that they made two weeks of crowded van rides feel like fun–and anyone who gets the chance to see the Story Pirates, Adam Gidwitz, C.Alexander London, or E.J. Altbacker in action absolutely should.  But I am also glad to get back to revising Volume Four, planning my garden, and catching up with Brom Bones, who had quite a lot to tell me when I came home.

Apparently, Brom grew increasingly nervous and naughty while I was gone.  On the last day of the tour, he tore apart two wastebaskets and ate a box of Crayola crayons.  (According to Ryan, afterward, he pooped rainbows.)

It’s hard to believe, but there are now just two months (and two days) until the release of THE SECOND SPY.  The paperback release of SPELLBOUND on May 24th is even closer.

With so much good fortune all at once, this almost seems like overkill, but I’ve just learned that THE SHADOWS has been selected for the 2012-2013 Sunshine State Young Readers Award list for grades 3 – 5.  Huge thanks to everyone who made this happen.

I had this mini-conversation at the Post Office yesterday, where I was mailing a package of signed books.

Postal Worker: These things are headed the way of the Dumpster.

Me (with slight concern, thinking she was referring to anything sent via “Media Mail” these days):  What?

Postal Worker: Everybody’s got their Kindle now.

Me:  Oh.  Yes.  I suppose so.

Postal Worker: My nine-year-old granddaughter, she’s always reading on that little screen.  I love books, myself.

Me: Yeah… So do I.

And then I walked away, feeling vaguely sad and disoriented, thinking of copies of my books being cheerily tossed into Dumpsters by house-cleaning Kindle-owners.

I suppose it’s true that Kindles and Nooks and iPads are taking the place of paper books — when it comes to certain books and certain readers, at least.  They are handy and speedy and trendy (and dubiously eco-conscious), and there’s not much point in bemoaning their existence, whatever their pros or cons.  But here’s the thing: They’re headed the way of the Dumpster too.

Just like phonographs, and record players, and Walkmans (Walkmen?), and CDs, and eventually, iPods.  Just like those weird, boxy, early-days mobile phones that are approximately the size of a man’s penny loafer.

Someday, Kindles and Nooks and other e-readers will be outdated items that no one can repair or supply with media anymore.  And on that day, books–all the books left in the world–will still work.

When I was in England with my college choir, we visited a medieval church where a monk showed us the oldest book in the church’s collection.  It had been handwritten by that very same church’s monks sometime in the 10th century.  It was a thick volume with a plain, graying cover, and he opened its pages to show us the squarish, black-and-red calligraphy that had come from those monks’ pens, recording the Latin chants they had sung more than a thousand years ago.  It was like a line strung through time, straight back to those medieval men squinting over their tables with their candles and quills.  I cried.  And on the day when the last e-reader is sold, supplanted by some new form of technology, that book from the 10th century will still be serving its function–being read, and making some other sentimental choirgirl cry.  I hope.

Speaking of books and ways to get them, I am about to embark on a multi-state, multi-author tour.  C. Alexander London (An Accidental Adventure), Adam Gidwitz (A Tale Dark and Grimm), E.J. Altbacker (Shark Wars) and yours truly are heading off on what the Penguin publicity department has named the “Endangered Authors Tour” — a game-show themed program planned and hosted by performers from Story Pirates — visiting schools and bookstores in Texas, California, and New York.  Craziness will surely ensue.

If you’d like to catch us for a signing on the road, here’s the current itinerary.  Public events are in bold.

I’ve been a terrible blogger lately.  In my defense, it’s been a crazy month: Four school visits, a week-long writing residency at a magnet school, revision work on two novels, a trip to Seattle, play rehearsals, choir concerts…  (And this journal isn’t the only thing that’s been neglected.  The dust is so thick, every flat surface in my house appears to have been painted a soft, mousy gray.  There are clothes that I don’t even recognize anymore turning up in my slowly emptying laundry hampers.)

But I will be shifting from terrible to slightly-less-terrible in the very near future.  Yes — I shall attempt to post at least once a day for the two months leading up to the release of THE SECOND SPY.  (July 5!)  Until then, however, I’ll be revising, traveling, and letting the dust have its mousy way.

On the third day of my residency with the fourth-graders at Glacier Hills Elementary School of Arts and Sciences in Eagan, MN, KARE11 News (the Twin Cities’ NBC affiliate) came to film our activities and interview teachers and students.  You can watch the segment here:

These kids were a joy to work with, and I was absolutely blown away by everything that they were able to accomplish.

A new review of THE SHADOWS has appeared on the fantastic YA/MG blog Novel Novice.

And, in a rare bit of poetry news, I was delighted to learn that I’ve been nominated for the Science Fiction Poetry Association’s Rhysling Award, for my piece “Escaping the Dawn,” which appeared in Cover of Darkness in May 2011.  Past winners include writers like Jane Yolen, Gene Wolfe, and Catherynne M. Valente, so it’s much more than a cliche to say that it’s an honor just to be nominated.

I almost (ALMOST!) titled this entry “It Was the Best of Times…” but then I sort of wanted to kick myself.

So, the sad news first:

After eight years in business, my town’s independent bookshop, Best of Times, has closed its doors for good.  As sad as this makes me (and everyone else in town), it naturally wasn’t a shock; we all know how hard it has become for independent, small town stores of all kinds to survive in this age of online mega-retailers and economic insanity.  The few independent brick-and-mortar bookstores that seem to be keeping their heads above water (yes, I know bookstores don’t actually have heads, and I know brick buildings very seldom go swimming in the first place, but I’m feeling too sad and lazy to look for another idiom), like Portland’s Powell’s and Austin’s BookPeople, are massive places that can offer everything the big chains provide: cafes, lots of space and seating, fancy websites, and nearly every book you’re looking for, right there on the shelves.  But the indies can also provide many things the big chains don’t — or can’t. And the smaller indie shops — like Best of Times — provide things that even the larger one-of-a-kind shops can’t, like knowing the name of practically every customer who walks in, keeping local interest and small press books in stock, and hosting events for newer, lesser-known writers…like me.  Best of Times held the release parties for THE SHADOWS and SPELLBOUND, and they kept a signed stock of copies in the store for in-person and online orders.  A ridiculous, windmill-jousting part of me daydreams about opening a bookstore myself one day (other authors have done it!  Like Louise Erdrich! And Garrison Keillor!  And that’s just in the Twin Cities!), but I know that would require a set of skills and an investment of time and energy and love that I don’t have…at least, not now.

So I’ll just be sad.  And miss them.

I got back to Red Wing just in time to attend the bookstore’s goodbye party, after spending two weeks in Plano, Texas, visiting elementary schools.  To all the librarians, parents, teachers, and students who hosted me: THANK YOU.  It was a joy.

And, once I got home, more good news was waiting to spring on me:

First, THE BOOKS OF ELSEWHERE, VOLUME TWO: SPELLBOUND has been selected as a finalist in the Young People’s Category of the Minnesota Book Awards. THE SHADOWS was a finalist last year, which already felt too good to be true, but making the list two years in a row???  I was pretty sure that there had been a mistake, a la CHIME and SHINE at the National Book Awards.  Perhaps there was a Jacquelyn East on the nominees list.   Or maybe someone had written a book called SMELLHOUND.  (Now that I’ve double-checked the list, and seen the news in the Star Tribune and on the Awards website, I’m starting to believe that they did actually mean me, but it still feels too good to be true — because there is some amazing writing coming out of Minnesota these days, especially in the kids’ lit area: Anne Ursu, Pete Hautman, Lynne Jonell, Kelly Barnhill, Sheila O’Connor…  I’m happy just to share general weather patterns with these people.)

Second, THE BOOKS OF ELSEWHERE, VOLUME ONE: THE SHADOWS has won a place on the master list of the Illinois Bluestem Award.  Like the Texas Bluebonnet and the Louisiana Young Readers’ Choice Awards, the award is given based on the votes of young readers (which is already very cool), but the best part is that the book will be promoted in libraries and schools around the state.

And Brom Bones was very happy to have me come home.

This year, rather than a list of resolutions (and believe me, I have many), I thought I would tally the reading/writing things I’ve managed to accomplish.  Some of them represent the fulfillment of last year’s resolutions (Book Three has been revised without undue emotional distress!  The dratted play has been finished, and titled!), some waver in that scribbly gray place between success and failure, and some have nothing to do with resolutions at all.  Here goes.

What I Wrote in 2011:

Short stories: 4  (I am happy with one of these, semi-happy with another, and vaguely dissatisfied with the remainder.)
Poems: 19 (I only like two of them.)
Novels: 3 (One is revised, edited, and FINISHED, one is substantially revised but probably several steps from done, and one is in first draft form.)
Plays: 1 (A surprise, even to myself.)

What I Read in 2011:
(Titles in bold represent a reread; titles with an asterisk were read aloud to Ryan)

THE POISONWOOD BIBLE – Barbara Kingsolver
THE WIND-UP BIRD CHRONICLE – Haruki Murakami
FRAGMENTS – Marilyn Monroe
TALES OF THE CITY (three volumes) , SURE OF YOU, SIGNIFICANT OTHERS, MICHAEL TOLLIVER LIVES, MARY ANN IN AUTUMN
LITTLE DORRITT – Charles Dickens
SHORT STORIES – O. Henry
SKIPPING STONES AT THE CENTER OF THE EARTH – Andy Hueller
SCHULZ AND PEANUTS – David Michelis
SORCERY AND CECELIA, OR THE ENCHANTED CHOCOLATE POT – Patricia C. Wrede and Caroline Stevermer
UNPACKING THE BOXES – Donald Hall
THE BIG SLEEP – Raymond Chandler
THE WIKKELING – Steven Arntsen
THE BLACK DAHLIA – James Ellroy
BACKLASH – Susan Faludi
SULA – Toni Morrison
MOON OVER MANIFEST – Clare Vanderpool
THE EDIBLE WOMAN – Margaret Atwood
THE PASSAGE* – Justin Cronin
A HOME AT THE END OF THE WORLD – Michael Cunningham
SPLIT – Swati Avasthi
AT HOME* – Bill Bryson
NOW AND FOREVER – Ray Bradbury
GUNN’S GOLDEN RULES – Tim Gunn
THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF ALICE B. TOKLAS – Gertrude Stein
CHARMED LIFE – Dianna Wynne Jones
THE IGGYSSEY – Daniel Pinkwater
THE FINAL SOLUTION* – Michael Chabon
PRINCE OF STORIES: THE MANY WORLDS OF NEIL GAIMAN – Hank Wagner, Christopher Golden, and Stephen R. Bissette
GODLESS – Pete Hautman
FIND THE GIRL – Lightsey Darst
BOOKY WOOK 2 – Russell Brand
THE REPLACEMENT – Brenna Yovanoff
MY NEW ORLEANS – Rosemary James, ed.
ROALD DAHL’S BOOK OF GHOST STORIES – Roald Dahl, ed.
FEET ON THE STREET: RAMBLES AROUND NEW ORLEANS – Roy Blount Jr.
DARK PLACES* – Gillian Flynn (read twice in a row, second time aloud)
THE STRAIN* – Guillermo del Toro and Chuck Hogan
THE BORROWERS – Mary Norton
TO CHARLES FORT, WITH LOVE* – Caitlyn R. Kiernan (reread a few months later, aloud)
WHERE ONE VOICE ENDS, ANOTHER BEGINS: 150 YEARS OF MINNESOTA POETRY – Robert Hedin, ed.
GRIMM’S FAIRY TALES
IN THE GARDEN OF BEASTS* – Erik Larson
SELECTED WRITINGS OF GERTRUDE STEIN
SIGHTSEER – Cynthia Marie Hoffman
THE WRITER’S DESK – Jill Krementz
LIFE – Keith Richards
AMERICAN THIGHS – Jill Connor Browne
PORTRAITS AND OBSERVATIONS – Truman Capote
SHARP OBJECTS*  – Gillian Flynn
THE 2011 RHYSLING ANTHOLOGY – David Lunde, ed.
BOSSYPANTS* – Tina Fey
DEATHLESS – Catherynne M. Valente
THE CRYING OF LOT 49 – Thomas Pynchon
A GIRL NAMED ZIPPY* – Haven Kimmel
SMILLA’S SENSE OF SNOW – Peter Hoeg
IODINE – Haven Kimmel
TIMEQUAKE – Kurt Vonnegut
SHE GOT UP OFF THE COUCH* – Haven Kimmel
EVERY LAST ONE – Anna Quindlen
LOVE AND OTHER IMPOSSIBLE PURSUITS – Ayelet Waldman
THE HOUSE NEXT DOOR – Anne Rivers Siddons
LONG QUIET HIGHWAY: WAKING UP IN AMERICA – Natalie Goldberg
THOUGHTS IN SOLITUDE – Thomas Merton
WISHFUL DRINKING – Carrie Fischer
TROLL’S EYE VIEW – Ellen Datlow and Terri Windling, eds.
MENNONITE IN A LITTLE BLACK DRESS – Rhoda Janzen
SWEETBLOOD – Pete Hautman
FREETHINKERS* – Susan Jacoby
OTHER VOICES, OTHER ROOMS – Truman Capote
FEVER 1793 – Laurie Halse Anderson
THE THIEF OF ALWAYS* – Clive Barker
GONE WITH A HANDSOMER MAN – Michael Lee West
ANSWERED PRAYERS – Truman Capote
THE GOBLIN WAR – Hilari Bell
AND THEN THINGS FALL APART – Arlaina Tibensky
QUEEN BEES AND WANNABEES – Rosalind Wiseman
THE GOBLIN GATE – Hilari Bell
THE GOBLIN WAR – Hilari Bell
THE TIME WARP TRIO: THE NOT-SO-JOLLY ROGER – John Szieska
THE MOSTLY TRUE STORY OF JACK – Kelly Barnhill
MODEL – Michael Gross
THE WOMAN IN BLACK – Susan Hill
THE HAPPY PRINCE AND OTHER STORIES – Oscar Wilde
THE TIME WARP TRIO: THE GOOD, THE BAD, AND THE GOOFY – John Szieska
SILK* – Caitlyn R. Kiernan
RAT GIRL – Kristin Hersh
THE BEAUTY MYTH – Naomi Wolf
BECAUSE OF WINN-DIXIE – Kate DiCamillo
ENCYCLOPEDIA GOTHICA – Liisa Ladouceur
STRANGE CANDY – Laurell K. Hamilton
THE AGE OF AMERICAN UNREASON – Susan Jacoby
A BRIEF HISTORY OF THE CZECH LANDS TO 2000 – Petr Cornej and Jiri Pokorny
THE PHANTOM TOLLBOOTH – Norton Juster
THE DAY OF THE PELICAN – Katherine Paterson
DESIDERIA – Nicole Kornher-Stace
BACH, BEETHOVEN, AND THE BOYS: MUSIC HISTORY AS IT OUGHT TO BE TAUGHT – David W. Barber
THE HUNGER GAMES* – Susanne Collins
FINISHING THE HAT – Stephen Sondheim
CATCHING FIRE* – Susanne Collins

The two books that made the strongest impact on me–that ended up being the sort of book I wanted to gift wrap and force into the hands of everyone I know–were Gillian Flynn’s DARK PLACES and Susan Jacoby’s FREETHINKERS.  I can’t say enough about DARK PLACES; the voice, the characterization, the atmosphere, and the plotting are all pitch-perfect.  It’s brutally beautiful and beautifully brutal.  FREETHINKERS was fascinating, simultaneously frightening and encouraging, and full of incredibly important things to keep in mind as the U.S. continues to redefine its identity.

There.  That’s what I got done this year.

I wish everyone a 2012 full of adventures and discovery and joy.  And speaking of joy, here is Brom Bones, enjoying his largest Christmas present.

And here it is:

THE BOOKS OF ELSEWHERE, VOLUME THREE: THE SECOND SPY.

Gorgeous, isn’t it?  Poly Bernatene just keeps making me happier and happier.  Check out the three volumes, all lined up together–

THE SECOND SPY will be released on July 5, 2012.  It’s already available for pre-order from Amazon, but I hope you’ll buy or pre-order it from your favorite local bookstore.  (BTW, Here‘s an interesting blog about one of Amazon’s latest schemes, written by an independent bookstore owner.)  Of course, you could also order a signed copy through my own local bookshop, Best of Times, once the book is released…

When I visit schools, kids often ask me which of my own books is my favorite, and I always say that it’s the one I’m planning to write next, which is still pure dream and excitement and potential, without any flaws in it (yet).  And this is the truth.  But it’s also true that I had a ridiculous amount of fun while writing THE SECOND SPY, and I can’t wait until it’s out there in the world, being read by people I’ve never met.

My copies of the Greek and Catalan translations of THE SHADOWS recently arrived — and here they are, atop my Christmassy tablecloth.

(It’s a wonderfully odd thing not to be able to read a single word of your own book.)

In other fiction news, I’ve just sold a short story, “The Emperor’s Nightingale” (a sort of dystopian/environmental retelling of  Anderson’s fairy tale) to Aoife’s Kiss, and am looking forward to seeing it published next summer.

Tomorrow is the Anderson Center’s Holiday Celebration of the Arts.   I’ll be there from noon to five, signing and selling copies of THE SHADOWS, SPELLBOUND, and CHERMA.  If you’re in the Red Wing area and are looking for unique Christmas gifts, come and visit; the beauty of the Anderson Center itself makes it worth the trip.

I meant to post this a week ago, but between revising, pie-baking, family reunion-ing, and Christmas play and concert rehearsing, there has been no time left for blogging. So here it is, pathetically late…

I am a Simpsons fanatic. I can quote seasons 1 – 8 practically verbatim, and countless Simpsons references have become part of my personal vocabulary. (“Unpossible”; “Boo-urns”; “[Person X] cares not for beans!”  “Cranberry sauce a la Bart”… The list goes on.  And on.  And on.  I also once named a pet snail “Bort.”)  However, I haven’t watched the show for the last twelve seasons.  However, however, I did watch Episode #492 (Good lord, can there really be that many?), “The Book Job,” because if The Simpsons is going to base an episode around trends in young adult writing and have Neil Gaiman as a guest star, I am going to watch it.

There are plenty of quirks in YA/kids lit that the show could have targeted.  As it turned out, they focused on a fairly esoteric one: group ghostwriting, or book packaging, in which a team uses market research to write and sell a trendy book, with a semi-imaginary “author” to be the face or figurehead of the whole business — a sort of book world Betty Crocker.   Frankly, other than those long-running series like Nancy Drew and Sweet Valley Technical School or whatever it’s called now, and the novels “written” by teenaged TV/pop music stars, and whatever it is exactly that James Patterson does, this formula doesn’t seem to be all that prevalent (at least, not yet).  And it wasn’t the idea of book packaging as presented by “The Book Job” that interested me, anyway.  It was the idea of the author as Betty Crocker figurehead/mascot/advertising character, and the differences between writers as authors and writers as human beings.

When I visit schools, I talk about why I didn’t believe I could be a writer when I grew up.  I was an imaginative, book-obsessed child, and yet I never planned to be an author myself.  I believed in stories so entirely, I never really bought the idea that ordinary human beings could have simply made them up and written them down.  Those names on the covers of the books I loved were just names, without real people behind them — or, if they were people, they were magical, otherworldly, romantic versions of people, hardly human at all.  (Even now, I expect writers to have a spellbinding, larger-than-life presence… Ridiculous, I know, especially when I spend so much of my own time in too-large socks and slightly smudged glasses, microwaving a third cup of coffee and feeling so much smaller than life.  But it’s true.)

And perhaps an author should disappear into his or her work that way.

The episode’s idea that a hot “tween” book needs a giant author photo on the back cover, complete with an intriguing biography for marketing purposes, doesn’t quite hold water.  Everybody has heard J.K. Rowling’s amazing tale — the penniless single mother suddenly struck with inspiration, scribbling away in Edinburgh coffee shops — but her books would be just as popular without that background.  And there aren’t many other author biographies that have become common knowledge in that way.   Perhaps that’s because the backstory of many–if not most–authors is so much duller.   It seems to go something like this: “I sat down at a desk.  I wrote.  Then I wrote some more.”

It’s work, not romance, that creates a book.  The story you write is the story.

As a child, I didn’t care who A. A. Milne was; if he was a man or a woman, old or young.  Ditto Roald Dahl.  (In my mind, he was sort of a living, ever-changing Quentin Blake sketch.)  I still remember my surprise when I saw a photograph of L.M. Montgomery for the first time and realized that she didn’t look exactly like Anne Shirley.  I vaguely assumed that Stan and Jan Berenstain were bears.  I was shocked to learn that John Bellairs had died before my sixth grade class could send him our fan letters, because in my mind, he wasn’t mortal in the first place.  And maybe that’s the highest sort of praise a reader can give: To believe in a writer’s work so completely that they forget the writer exists at all.

BTW, the whole “Book Job” episode can now be found here.

Oh, and Lisa’s writing routine?  –That part rang 100% true.