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I won’t bury the lead: Every child under the age of 18 gets a FREE BOOK COUPON worth $15.
This is a community that puts its money where its mouth is. We all want this next generation to become readers, writers, thinking, book-lovers.
Come join me, and at least 100 other authors and illustrators, for a day that celebrates these core values.
And if you do come, please, stop by my table and say hello!
-I
I am not saying it’s too late to schedule an author visit for this school year.
But it’s getting there.
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PRO TIP: I am often asked — often at the end of a presentation — for any advice I’d offer to fellow writers. And this is certainly true in any writing classes I’ve taught. Aspiring writers seeking that golden nugget of advice. The key to the kingdom!
And though I’ve been asked hundreds of times in different contexts, it always stumps me. I yammer haltingly. I fall back on the tired cliches — read widely, write often — and conclude that no one is satisfied with my response, most especially myself.
But I do have one thing that I do think is true: If you wait until you know what you are doing, you’ll never write, because you’ll never get there. I see this a lot. You can take endless classes and seminars, read all the books, Save the Cat and all that jazz. And some of them will be enormously helpful.
But you will only learn how to write a book . . . by writing a book.
And that never stops being true, even after decades of determined effort. You are always confronting your limitations and shortcomings.
Don’t wait until you are ready. You’ll never be ready.
Dive in.
Trust me. Nobody really knows what they are doing.
And if you did know, by some miracle, it wouldn’t be fun anymore. The discovery is everything.
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Thank you to my editor, Liz Szabla, and publisher, Jean Feiwel, and everyone at Macmillan who helped make this book possible. It’s nice to see it with this truly great cover, now in paperback.
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This book was named to Bank Street’s List of “Best Children’s Books for 2025.”
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I have a nostalgic affection for all the weird, crappy little jobs I took on as a freelancer over the course of my career. I mean, maybe I should be recounting my triumphs, but an entertaining part of my story is the odd jobs I took along the way. Money in the pocket. The work that kept “the dream” alive.
Around 1993, Scholastic made a book deal with a popular toy company, The Troll Company. They created and sold Norfin Trolls, which some people seemed, unaccountably, to like. As a freelancer with connections at Scholastic (I worked there from 85-90), I was offered a two-book deal, flat fee (no royalty), and was handed a catalog produced by the company. The catalog included lots of pictures of trolls in various outfits. The golfer, the tourist, the farmer, the pirate, the wizard, etc. Here’s a sample spread:
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I can tell you want a closer look.
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My assignment was to make up a couple of stories featuring the Trolls. At that time, sometimes to my chagrin, I was considered a “clever” guy by various editors at Scholastic. Of course, I aspired to be more than just a clown. I was a literature major, filled with deep thoughts and passionate feelings, but they saw me as a creative court jester who worked cheap. Perfect for the Norfin Troll project!
This is, of course, four years before Jigsaw Jones came along. I was just beginning to get assignments. So, one hundred percent, I was happy to do it (I just wasn’t going to put my name on it). One very cool aspect of the project was that a team of photographers — the talented due of Mary and Joe Van Blerck — would pose the dolls, build artistic sets, and photograph the scenes for the book. It was pretty amazing what they accomplished, actually. Quite skilled. Never met ’em.
I still have one copy of the first book, Too Many Trolls. The main challenge was to come up with an idea that allowed for lots and lots of cute trolls. I remembered the classic Marx Brothers state room scene from “A Night at the Opera.” Yes, I decided, I could steal that! In the film, everyone crowds into a small room with hilarious results.
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That was it! So I told the story of Hanna, who was visiting Aunt Inger and Uncle Hans (I lifted these names directly from the catalog). Remembering my lessons from the Whole Language pedagogy of the day, I added a recurring phrase, “Shhh, baby is sleeping,” and was on my way.
One by one, groups of visitors appear to threaten the quiet: one golfer (his ball sails through an open window), two neighbors whose TV is broken, three peppy cheerleaders, and so on, until ten plane crash survivors (!) show up (cheerful, but in need of a phone) and Hanna has finally had enough. She cries out, “Sixty Norfin Trolls! There are too many trolls in this house! I’m sorry, but everybody has to leave. Baby needs peace and quiet!”
They all depart, loudly, and peace is at last restored. Baby has managed to sleep through the trollish tumult. But on the last page, you guessed it, baby cries, “Goo-goo-goo-GAHHH!”
A classic work of literature, long out of print.
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Lastly, I employed the pen name, Mitzy Kafka. I fondly remembered the old picture book, Tell Me a Mitzi by Lore Segal, a title that always struck me as funny. As for Kafka, I was and remain a fan of the great man’s work, and somehow the surreal oddness of Kafka’s books connected in my mind to the surreal oddness of my assignment. Thus, Mitzy Kafka climbed from her chrysalis, fluttered her soggy wings, and emerged to enjoy a brief but resplendent existence.
I share this story because, hey, it was a good book for what it was. I’ve read far worse in hardcover. So I cashed my check and could still look at myself in the mirror. Best of all, no trolls were harmed during the making of the book, despite the plane crash. I did my best, plied my craft, and the end results — to the extent that I had control over these things, left me restlessly satisfied, if unfulfilled.
I feel like some people view “the writer’s life” as some sort of edifying, ethereal experience — as if we were special people, uniquely gifted — and I’m here to say that for much of my (cough, cough) career, I’ve been like a carpenter trying to earn a living. Too Many Trolls, and jobs like it, helped pay the mortgage. And in the meantime, I kept hammering away.
Mitzy Kafka would have been proud.
Here’s some sample spreads from the book, since you won’t find it anywhere else!
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Pure nonsense, of course. Lighthearted fun. And, I am pleased to report, I still think it’s pretty good — for, you know, what it is.
I cashed the check.
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