Lessons in imagination

I had the honor of speaking to a Ms. Brown’s seventh-grade reading room a few weeks ago. They had just finished The Misspellers, my first novel, and therefore more than special to me. The novel was written with reluctant readers in mind and Ms. Brown is the first teacher I’ve come across in eighteen years who caught on. Of course, that could be more my fault than the whole of the teaching profession, but it’s probably more an exposure issue. The book was never a runaway bestseller.

The students asked amazing questions. And I use that word the way Oxford intends: They filled me with wonder. Startled me.

“How did you write about a bulldozer fighting an excavator if you’ve never seen it.” Love this question. Gets the heart of why anyone writes – or why anyone reads. We all want to stretch are known experiences into the unknown. It helped our ancestors survive lions and tigers and snow. I’ve seen a snake before, could one be hiding in that hole? This is how imagination saves our lives. Exercising it makes it work better. Which is how writers and artists ensure the existence of humanity.

“Does Carlin really like Jack?” I love this question, too. It comes from a cunning insight: Is Jack simply a decent person tossed into Carlin’s world or is there genuine affection? It’s the question of a new person, growing into their world. How much of any of this is real? The same imagination that helps us envision a rock beneath the waves and makes us hesitate before a jump, can also keep us from leaps of the heart.

That’s a lot from a little class, reading a little book. It’s the best any writer could ever hope.

Hotdogs, Scotch and the Mona Lisa . . .

For those willing and fearless, go inside the mind of Michael Martineck. This was my first interview in quite some time, so I was a little rusty. Being interesting ain't like riding a bike - supposing I was ever interesting in the first place. Spoiler Alert: I'm not. There is a discussion of wiener classification as it pertains to literary communication paradigms. You won't be getting that anyplace else. 

Happy Cinco De Mayo everyone. Margaritas and tortas are great, but if you really want to celebrate, crack open your copy and read a favorite passage tonight. That's what I'll be doing.

A little reluctant love

Good reviews are like children. You shouldn't have favorites. Still, we can appreciate certain qualities we find special, right? I love this review form Liliyana Shadowlyn because she wasn't sure she was going to like a book with the art world as a backdrop. She tried it, as one might snails or caviar, and found it quite delightful. Which is also kind of a great meta-metaphor for Untouchable. Not everything is as it first appears. Or even second. Check out her reviews here or here. They are the same, but that second one, the Faerie review, is better because Lily thinks the book might be of interest outside the usual mystery-novel community. Me too.

From Melisende

 

"Quite an entertaining caper!"
I'll take that. Melisende has quite an entertaining blog. Always happy when someone likes the book, obviously. Little known fact - I'm just as fascinated when they don't. I have not yet read a bad review of Untouchable - probably because it is universally beloved - but you can learn just as must from a negative comment as you can from a gush. 

Shout-out . . .

 

. . . to The Mary Reader for her post featuring Untouchable. So glad she found the time and space. It's a great resource if you're looking for something fresh with which to cozy up. The site curates quick mentions of books, which I find quite helpful, especially if I'm in the library and the book I want is out and I'm like, what was the name of that other book by that other person? Then I get the log flume of all the dead trees in my head. It jams up everything. In my head, mental beavers laugh at the flow they stanched.  They laugh still, even as a trickle leaks through, allowing me to post this post. 

The Rushing of the Sea - Fund Me!

If you're looking for a way to support the arts - that doesn't include books - look no further. The Rushing of the Sea is a short film project from the delightful Dani Martineck. Related by marriage, they have no novelistic gene. Dani writes for the screen, in addition to producing and performing. You can help fund the project here, and we're not talking about millions. You too can be a Hollywood mogul for like $20.