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The Unfinished Angel
The angel's language: In Switzerland, while I was immersed in re-learning Italian (the language of southern Switzerland), I found myself talking strangely and comically, mixing English and Italian and mangling grammar in both languages. Not only could I not speak Italian correctly, but I could no longer speak English correctly! The two languages were so tangled in my brain. An example: I'd need the word that meant attractive, but I couldn't find that exact word. Instead, I'd think of attractiful or attracting. The only way this story was going to get written was if I let the angel speak the way my brain was working that year!

Some funny scenes: I am a little hesitant to admit it, but many scenes in this book make me laugh and laugh. Here are three of my favorites:
  1. From the chapter, 'My Territory,' when Zola asks the angel if the angel has wings.
  2. From the chapter, 'Lizards,' when Rosetta confesses to eating a lizard's tail.
  3. From the chapter, 'Pigeons,' when the angel reacts to Zola's pigeon story.


Hate That Cat
After I'd sent in a draft of Hate That Cat to my editor, her 'right-hand-editor,' Karen Nagel, sent me a cat joke that she made up. It made me laugh and I asked if I could use it. It's the "me-OW" joke. (Why did the man throw the cat out the window? He wanted to hear it say "Me-OW!")

When I was midway through writing this story, I saw Walter Dean Myers at a readers' theatre event, and he mentioned he had a cat. A cat! Walter Dean Myers is a very, very tall man. He looks like a pro basketball player. I didn't expect him to have a wee little fragile cat. That makes its way into this story.

Another discovery, when I was midway through writing this book, was the existence of a book called Black Cat. Not only was it a perfect book for Miss Stretchberry to introduce to her class, but also it was written by Walter Dean Myers' son, Christopher Myers. Like Jack, I was beginning to feel as if the whole Myers family was in my brain.

The Castle Corona
The artwork: My editor and publisher, Joanna Cotler, and I have long discussed the relationship between word and image, and of the book as art object. For this story, we both wanted art that reflected the story's medieval setting. Joanna's particular vision was for something that resembled sixteenth century illuminated manuscripts. She and David Diaz refined the approach and David came up with lush artwork: full-color iconic emblems backed by decorative flourishes for the beginning of each chapter.

The hermits: Several years ago I read a small passage somewhere (no idea where)-a passing reference-to the once fashionable Victorian (I think) trend for nobles to ensconce hermits on their property and to rely on the hermits for guidance. I suspect these hermits were more like spiritual advisors and perhaps had some church affiliation. I don't know. In any case, I preferred to imagine the hermits differently, and in The Castle Corona, the King's hermit and the Queen's hermit became two of my favorite characters.

Who's That Baby?
"Two Big Grandmas” arose from a photo that my daughter took of me and Pearl’s other grandma gazing down at her. We must have looked awfully big to her, and we probably sounded very ineloquent: all we could say was “Ooh!” and “Ahh!” and “Aww!” and “Oh!” I especially love Diaz’s illustration for this, which shows two enormous grandmas dressed in pink and rose with huge hearts on their dresses.

“Leaky Baby” was sparked by a photo I took of my daughter (Pearl’s mother) holding Pearl. At the moment the picture was taken, Pearl spit up on her mother’s shoulder: blurrrrp. My daughter said, “Such a leaky baby!”

Replay
The main character, Leo, reminds me of a young Walter Mitty, replaying events in his mind, casting himself as a hero instead of a little sardine. I like the way Leo also replays his father's life as he reads his autobiography and the way this is echoed in the play Leo is in. Rumpopo replays his life too, through stories. I hope readers will also enjoy having the full text of the Rumpopo play at the end of the book, so they can act it out.

Fishing in the Air
I don't really like fishing -- I mean the act of catching fish. What I do love is sitting in a rowboat or on the dock with a fishing rod, casting lazily into the air. To me, fishing is more about being outside in a tranquil setting, smelling the air, gazing at the water and the sky.

It is also about the small and large exchanges between you and whoever you are with. Some of my fondest memories of my father are from times when he took my brothers, sister and me fishing, and he'd point out a tree on the bank, or a cloud overhead, or a dark pool of water in the distance. My mother gave us her own, different gifts of the imagination, but many of my father's gifts were an appreciation for the outdoors, a way of seeing and smelling and feeling things that you could 'catch' and bring home with you and call upon when you needed them.

A Fine, Fine School
I think the story is amusing on its own, but I find Harry Bliss' illustrations really funny. He's made Tillie's dog into a great character, and he also shows the increasingly encumbered students toting enormous backpacks and books like Ridiculously Difficult Algebra and The Meaning of Life. There are so many funny things going on in each picture. Harry Bliss is a celebrated New Yorker cover artist and cartoonist. This is his first picture book.

Granny Torrelli Makes Soup
Granny Torrelli refers to her own childhood friend as Pardo, which, in 'real life' was the name of my grandfather.

Although I don't remember making zuppa with my grandmother, we did make cavatelli and sauce, just as Rosie, Bailey and Granny Torrelli do in this story. And Rosie's favorite salad ("the one with oranges") was also my favorite when I was Rosie's age.

Heartbeat
Annie's art teacher gives an assignment to draw one apple a hundred times. My daughter was given this assignment in school. She said she learned more about drawing from that one assignment than from anything else!

Like Annie, I used to run for the pure pleasure of running. It made me feel free, and it calmed my mind. I no longer run very much, but I take long walks, and it is often during these walks that an idea for a scene or a whole book will arise.

Ruby Holler
The understone funds evolved in a rather strange way. Many years ago, a Russian friend of my sister and her husband was visiting them and became interested in a chipmunk which lived in their backyard, appearing and disappearing into a hole beneath a stone. The Russian friend referred to the chipmunk as their "understone friend." Somehow that stayed with me and became understone funds.

In the chapter, "The God," Tiller talks about how a woman who had visited recently had referred to him as 'a god.' Tiller is obviously quite proud of this, but Sairy says, in her cool, ironic way, "And you believed her." This is based on a story my sister told me about her husband. It seemed to fit Tiller and Sairy perfectly.

Love That Dog
When I wrote this story, I'd only met Walter Dean Myers once. I suspected early on in writing this story that Myers' poem would be important to Jack, but I was surprised when Walter Dean Myers himself entered the story. I was worried about that--not sure if I could have a living person as a character in my story. I tried to get Walter Dean Myers out of the story, but his absence left a big, empty hole. The whole story pivots on his poem and his influence on Jack.

Bloomability
The cover bears an artist's rendering of 'real' pictures I sent to my editor. On the front is a picture of our daughter Karin, reclining on a mountain in Andermatt (I love that she's taken off her hiking boots and seems so happy there on that mountain). Beneath that picture is one of my youngest brother Tom, and to the right of that is a view from our house there, looking up the hill toward Montagnola. The hardback cover has additional pictures on the back: one is of a teacher, Laura Studders, our son Rob and our daughter on the slopes of St. Moritz; beneath that is a photo of my husband Lyle.

Absolutely Normal Chaos
Mary Lou gives her address in this book as '4059 Buxton Road'--and that was my real address. There's a photo of my house on the photo page of this web site, and if you look closely, you can see the address.

Chasing Redbird
For background research, I scoured hiking and trail guides, and one thing that I liked so much about these guides was the interesting names that were given to various places. One of the most enjoyable parts about writing this book was coming up with my own names for places along Zinny's trail, like Baby Toe Ridge and Donut Hole and Hogback Hill.

Pleasing the Ghost
The dog, Bo, is named after a neighbor's dog, but has the personality of a golden retriever we once had. People often ask where Uncle Arvie's strange words came from. Most of them just popped into the air. For some, I wanted words that either sounded like or began with the same letter as the 'real' word. For example: pepperoni for papa; macaroni for mama; dinosaur for Dennis. Other words just sounded funny, like wig pasta and deester.

The Wanderer
The first two Bompie stories in The Wanderer (Bompie and the car; Bompie and the train) are my own father's stories. The rest are imagined. Sophie is named after a young girl we know in England, and Cody is named after a student who came to one of my talks (I think it was in Nashville.) Bompie's name came from my sister-in-law (that's what she called her grandfather) -- but one of the strangest ironies is that after the book was published and my sister-in-law read it, she told me that, like Bompie in the book, her Bompie's wife's name was Margaret, and his son's name was Mo. (I hadn't known that before!)

Although Bybanks is not mentioned by name in this book, in my mind Bybanks is the town in which Sophie lives, and her friends (also not mentioned by name) are Zinny (from Chasing Redbird) and Salamanca (from Walk Two Moons) and Domenica (from Bloomability.) Maybe some day they'll all reunite!

The village of Thorpe, where Bompie lives in England, is the name of the village we lived in for seventeen years, and the name of his cottage -- Walnut Tree Cottage -- is the name of the house we lived in for fourteen of those years. Like Bompie's cottage, ours had roses growing up the side of it, and lavender and delphiniums growing wildly, and an apple tree in the backyard.