For Kathryn Erskine, art imitates life—deliberately. “I love reading and learning things from fiction,” she says, “and I figured others would, too.”

They certainly do: Her third novel, the 2010 National Book Award winner Mockingbird, features a fifth grader named Caitlin, who was inspired by Erskine’s daughter; both have Asperger’s syndrome.

In Erskine’s engaging new novel, The Absolute Value of Mike, the main character has a math-related learning disability that creates friction with his engineering-obsessed father. Once again, Erskine drew on the experiences of a family member—her son, who has a learning disability. The author says she’s learned a lot from him and wanted to incorporate those lessons in The Absolute Value of Mike. “I was a kid who got straight A’s, and thought that’s what you should do, that it meant you were smart,” she says by phone from her home in Charlottesville, Virginia. “My son does fine, but he’s not a straight-A kind of kid, and I realized he has all these life skills—he understands people, and he’s a problem-solver. I’ve learned great grades don’t guarantee success.”

The author wants kids to understand that, too. “I see children with learning disabilities or other issues who are down on themselves,” Erskine says. “I’d like them to take the message away that we all have something to contribute, and we need to follow whatever our passion is.”

Young readers will empathize with Mike’s frustration at his father’s insistence that math would be easier if he only tried harder—and they’ll share his trepidation when he’s sent to stay with relatives in rural Pennsylvania for the summer and work on an engineering project.

Mike becomes impatient with the project, but he is intrigued when he learns of a town-wide effort to raise money to adopt a little boy from Romania. Readers will be moved as Mike becomes part of something bigger than himself—and gains self-confidence in the process.

While a young Erskine wouldn’t have been daunted by a Pennsylvania trip (she lived in several countries as a child, thanks to her parents’ foreign-service jobs), she does know about international adoption—both her children are from Russia. “[Adoption] is something I thought others might not know that much about, but they’d be interested.”

Right now, Erskine is herself interested in a few different projects: an adult novel “for a change of pace”; a picture book “as an exercise to force myself to use very few words to get my point across”; and historical fiction for middle-grade readers.

“I don’t even want to use the h-word, because it turns kids off sometimes, but history is like a fantasy world—except it really happened!” Readers won’t need convincing. Thanks to books like Mockingbird and The Absolute Value of Mike, it’s clear that, if anyone can make learning an enjoyable experience, Erskine can.

Best-selling children’s author James Howe had written many books, but suddenly he was stuck. Really stuck. 

Howe was determined to write a book about Addie Carle, one of the main characters in The Misfits, his 2001 novel about four middle school friends. He had already written one sequel, Totally Joe, about a gay seventh-grader in the group. But he had spent two unsuccessful years trying to capture the voice of the strong-willed and extremely outspoken Addie.

“Her voice can be kind of off-putting,” Howe admits during a call to his home in Yonkers, New York. “I had tried so many different approaches, and nothing was working.”

Finally, a letter from an eighth-grade fan put Howe on the right path. The girl wrote: “Addie’s got such a strong personality, but sometimes I think readers don’t actually know what her soft side is.”

Howe realized he had been ignoring Addie’s soft side, and decided to explore what he calls her “inside voice.” He also decided that the best way to explore this part of Addie’s personality would be to write his novel in poetry. This presented yet another hurdle, since Howe had never written a book in poetry. He enjoyed the writing, but soon realized that all of his new poems needed to form a narrative whole.

A letter from a young fan helped Howe discover the softer side of an outspoken character.

“At one point my dining room table was covered with all of these printed-out poems,” Howe remembers. “I was rearranging and physically trying to find where the story was. So it took a good two years to get the shape of the book.”

If all of this sounds like a giant puzzle, Howe isn’t fazed. “I like to draw, and I love to do collage,” he says. “And I used to direct theater. I think there are connections in all of these things. I like taking pieces and making something out of them.”

The result was certainly worth waiting for. Addie on the Inside is immensely readable, with an active and conversational tone.

What did Howe end up learning about Addie, who was, as he puts it, “such a tough nut to crack?”

“I learned that she’s much more tender than I thought she was,” Howe says. “And I learned more about where her outside voice came from, and how connected it is to her own insecurities. I also learned, and this was a surprise, that she did have some desire to be popular and be cool.”

Howe is best known as the author of books for younger children, having gotten his start in 1979 with a beloved series about a vampire bunny named Bunnicula. A struggling actor and director at the time, he began writing for children by accident.

“I was doing what a lot of actors do and staying up too late and watching movies on TV,” Howe recalls. “It was watching all those bad vampire movies in the ’70s that led to the idea of Bunnicula. I can’t say that it’s my proudest moment when I tell young children how I got the idea for still my most popular book.”

He and his wife Deborah co-wrote the first book, but sadly she died of cancer before their book was published. Ever since, Howe has had an intriguing literary and life journey, having now embarked on what he calls “almost a second career” writing for middle school students and young adults.

Howe eventually remarried and became a father to Zoey, now 23. His editor at the time remarked that Howe would probably begin writing board books for his daughter. Instead, Howe felt compelled to head in the opposite direction. “These very powerful feelings that come with being a parent were pushing me to write work that was more personal and deep,” he says, “for older readers.”

Zoey’s eventual complaints about middle school social dynamics prompted him to write The Misfits. Another important event helped trigger Howe’s writing for middle school students. When Zoey was in the fifth grade, he divorced his second wife and came out as a gay man. Howe has now been with his partner for 10 years, and they plan to marry in September.

One of Howe’s immediate reactions upon coming out was anger. “I thought, I cannot believe I have put so much energy and have lived with this inner turmoil for so long and feared all of this rejection,” he says. “I wanted to write a book in which there’s a kid who’s growing up and gay and feels fine about who he is.”

The publication of Totally Joe ended up sparking a few controveries about its gay protagonist. “I was referred to as the openly gay author of The Misfits,” Howe recalls. “After years of being in the closet, that was actually pretty thrilling.”

Howe is especially gratified that The Misfits inspired an annual event called No-Name-Calling Week, which began in 2004.

“It’s gotten big,” Howe says. “There’s a curriculum for it. It’s -really taken off and it makes me feel very good.”

Most authors today are content to make their characters special by giving them extra senses and abilities. In Peter Nimble and His Fantastic Eyes, Jonathan Auxier makes Peter special by taking them away. Peter Nimble is considered the greatest thief in the world, not in spite of the fact that he is a child, an orphan and blind, but because of these things.

After being led to a box containing three sets of beautiful false eyes, Peter is whisked away to the world that exists beyond the edges of a map. There he meets up with his faithful companion Sir Tode, a half-horse, half-cat combination who is as fiercely local as he is strange to look at. The two of them embark on an epic quest to the Vanished Kingdom to rescue the author of a very odd and cryptic note in a bottle. On the way, Peter begins to learn that just because he started life as a thief, does not mean that he isn’t destined for much more.

With his debut novel, Auxier creates a unique blend of epic adventure and touching friendship that goes much deeper than first appearances. We caught up with Auxier (who blogs about the connections between children's literature old and new at www.TheScop.com) to find out more about the creative process behind the book.

What difficulties did you have writing this novel from the point of view of Peter Nimble, a blind orphan?

Well, this is my first novel, so it's really hard to distinguish which difficulties were because Peter Nimble is blind and which came from the standard hurdles of long-form prose writing. That said, I am a pretty visual storyteller, and cutting away all visual descriptions added another layer of work to every scene. There were several moments where I found myself wishing I could just describe the way things looked instead of having to think through what they must also have smelled and sounded like. On the other hand, how often will I get the opportunity to write an entire story through the senses of smell, taste, touch and hearing—that's pretty cool!

Tells us about the world Peter Nimble finds himself in after discovering the Fantastic Eyes.

Peter Nimble & His Fantastic Eyes takes place in a moment of history when the lines between magic and science were being blurred. Strange, exotic lands were being discovered and becoming known—but with that comes a loss of mystery. The central metaphor in the book is that of a half-finished map: the moment a new island or country gets charted by cartographers, it becomes reduced in some indefinable way . . . and that's sad. In the story, I wanted to take that map metaphor and make it literal. So when Peter Nimble sets out for uncharted waters, he finds himself in a place where the rules of logic and science still don't apply—a place where the impossible is still possible.

The chapter illustrations add so much to your story. Do you have a background in art, and why did you make the decision to illustrate the book yourself?

I know a lot of writers came out of the womb with a half-finished manuscript in hand, but that wasn't me. My mother was a painter, and I grew up taking advantage of all the amazing (and dangerous) art supplies in our house. I drew constantly. Even now, every story I write begins with a picture. In the case of Peter Nimble, it all started with the image that you see at the top of the first chapter: a baby floating in a basket with a raven perched on the edge that has just pecked out his eyes. 

I looked at that and I wanted to know more—so I wrote Peter Nimble & His Fantastic Eyes!

Many of your characters are incredibly unique—Peter Nimble, Mr. Seamus, Sir Tode, Princess Peg. Where did you get your inspiration for these characters?

Where didn't I get inspiration? Pretty much every book I've ever read has worked its way into this story. I've always thought of nasty Mr. Seamus as a combination of Bill Sikes from Oliver Twist and Mr. Wormwood from Matilda—a vicious brute who can also be crafty and disarming. Peg is pretty much all the Lost Boys from Peter Pan rolled into one awesome 10-year-old warrior—kind of what I had always wished Wendy had become once she arrived in Neverland! Sir Tode is a knight who has been cursed into an unfortunate combination of human, horse and kitten, which was inspired by a desire to fuse Don Quixote with his nag Rocinante.

Speaking of Sir Tode, when will we get to see a picture of the good knight? I can’t think of many things more interesting that what a half cat, half horse knight would look like!

I was sparing the poor knight's feelings! If you were cursed to look like such a ridiculous creature, would you want to be in the public eye? Also, I tend to think that books are best served by leaving as much as possible to the imagination—I'm a big fan of the unknown.

Parts of your book are quite dark, even unsettling. Why did you think it was important to include this type of writing in Peter Nimble?

I actually think a whiff of darkness is essential to children's literature. From Peter Pan to Magical Monarch of Mo by Frank Baum to The Witches by Roald Dahl—these books create a safe place for a child to explore dangerous subjects. That play between darkness and light is what drew me in as a young reader, and it's still what draws me in today.

What impression/message/moral/feeling do you want readers to be left with after finishing Peter Nimble?

I have more than once said I wanted Peter Nimble to be a sort of anthem to delinquency. All my favorite children's books work to celebrate deviant behavior. Alice Liddell is a perfect example: She falls from the humdrum world controlled by adults and manners into this messy, confusing wonderland in which the only way to survive is by out-nonsenseing the nonsense. Why is this important? Well, for a child whose entire life is controlled by adults, I think inverting that power structure for a brief stint can be incredibly liberating. It also is a way of exposing children to the fact that adults (like the ones writing children's books) can occasionally find themselves ridiculous.

Of course, the very best stories find a way to subvert adults while still ultimately affirming the security and comfort of a loving home—I'm thinking of Maurice Sendak's Where the Wild Things Are as an example of this.

The Vanished Kingdom and the characters who live there are so rich that it’s hard to leave them behind. Have we seen the last of Peter?

I may have another book for Peter Nimble in mind! However, this novel was meant to really be a complete story, and any subsequent installment would not be a "further adventures of" situation.  Rather, it would be a companion book in the same way that Magician's Nephew is a companion to The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe.

Kevin Delecki is a Children's Librarian and Manager at the Dayton (Ohio) Metro Library. He is the father of two crazy boys, and is always in search of his next favorite book.

In just one week, fifth grader Mattie Breen, custodial apprentice and secret storyteller, will face the moment she always dreads: introducing herself in front of her classmates in yet another new school.

This time, as she helps her Uncle Potluck, director of custodial arts at Mitchell P. Anderson Elementary School, prepare for the opening of school, Mattie stands in the empty classroom and wonders what it will be like. Is it possible that, for once, she can find words to say that will magically bring her friends? Can she say something that will make her more than “that shy girl?”

Mattie is the engaging young heroine of Linda Urban’s lyrical new novel for young readers, Hound Dog True. Urban brings Mattie’s emotions to life so perceptively it’s natural to wonder if the author herself was shy as a child, or if, like Mattie, she had the experience of being teased about her writing. 

“It is risky to be earnest. It is risky to show that you care. Irony is like wearing bubble wrap.”

“When I was a kid, I wrote all the time—joyfully and fearlessly,” Urban remembers during a call to her home in Vermont. “Then in seventh grade, we were given an assignment to write about Christmas Eve. I wrote a piece that was filled with memory and detail—I really put my heart into it. We were asked to read our pieces aloud and I did, and a boy in my class said that one of the words I used was weird. And that I was weird for having used it.”

The incident had an effect on the direction Urban took. She stopped writing fiction and went on to study advertising and journalism in college. Eventually she became a bookseller at an independent bookstore in Pasadena, California, before moving to Vermont with her family seven years ago. 

But as for writing fiction herself? 

“Too risky. Too scary,” the author says. 

In fact, Urban didn’t begin writing fiction again until age 37, when she started reading picture books to her baby daughter. She began getting up early (a writing habit she continues now as the mother of a nine- and seven-year-old), and didn’t even admit to her husband for months that she was trying her hand at writing children’s literature.

Urban’s first novel for children, A Crooked Kind of Perfect, published in 2007, tells the story of a girl who dreams of getting a baby grand piano but gets an organ instead. The book received many accolades, including being named a selection of the Junior Library Guild. In 2009 Urban published a picture book, Mouse Was Mad, illustrated by Henry Cole. This amusing story for preschoolers about an angry mouse who tries to handle his emotions was also praised by reviewers.

Now, with three books to her credit and another novel in the works, Urban is an advocate for young writers like Mattie. “My own memories of writing that Christmas piece in seventh grade and the reaction I got from my classmates had a little to do with the emotional core of Hound Dog True and Mattie’s fear about sharing her writing,” she says. 

“I do a lot of school visits and hear from young writers who are afraid to tell people they write. It’s common, that fear. Not just of sharing writing, but of risking. It is risky to show how much you care about the things you do or try. I think that is why we live in such an ironic age. It is risky to be earnest. It is risky to show that you care. Irony is like wearing bubble wrap.”

In Hound Dog True, Mattie learns a lot about what it means to take risks—not just in showing her writing to others, but in taking the first small steps toward friendship with another girl, Quincy Sweet, who, like Mattie, must find her own way amid the expectations of others. Having a real, intimate friend—a friend you can be honest with—is scary for Mattie, but as her new principal tells her, “You can’t have brave without scared.”

Urban is an acute observer of these small steps toward bravery, independence and friendship. An inveterate reader herself (her entire household dedicates Tuesday evenings to “Read at the Table Night,” where kids and parents bring a book to a finger-food dinner), Urban loves “heart and honesty and humor. I love brilliant turns of phrase that never threaten to hijack the story. I love people who understand the underside of kids, but maintain an outlook that is hopeful and generous.

“I tend to write about moments and choices that seem small to outsiders but are huge to the people experiencing them,” Urban continues. “In this book, I hoped to show how hard those small, brave, risky steps can be—and also how rewarding.”

And so, when Mattie Breen does find herself standing in front of her new fifth grade classmates on the first day of school, readers will be pulling for her to speak up and declare who she is—a girl who writes stories.

When N.D. Wilson’s 100 Cupboards series debuted in 2007, Harry Potter fans rejoiced—once again they could enter a fully realized magical world, and be fond of the hero who took them there. Now, with The Dragon’s Tooth, the first book in his new Ashtown Burials series, Wilson creates another innovative and exciting world for middle grade readers.

Cyrus and Antigone live a boring life with their older brother Daniel in a decrepit roadside motel. Their ho-hum existence changes quickly when a strange man, with his skeleton tattooed on the outside of his body, arrives and demands a specific room—namely, Cyrus’ room. Soon, the man is dead, the hotel is in flames, Daniel is missing, and Cyrus and Antigone are being rushed to Ashtown, where they are bound to a strange and secret order.

Action-packed from the first chapter, The Dragon’s Tooth is an exciting blend of action, adventure, mythology and mystery. We asked Wilson to tell us more about how he crafted this appealing new series.

Mythology plays quite a role in The Dragon’s Tooth, though not in the way many books have used it recently. What makes The Dragon’s Tooth so unique?

Sheer willpower? Ha. I can only say what I’m aiming for. Readers will be more objective than I am. That said . . . for me, the uniqueness comes in the use of this particular hurtling planet as a fantasy world—and not in a Matrix-y nothing-is-as-it-seems kinda way. This world is a legitimately crazy place and mythologies are our various historical attempts to account for and pay tribute to that craziness. And mythology tends to get it right in feel, even if not always in fact. I want to tell my readers that everything (drum roll) . . . is exactly as it seems.

It seems that I’m standing on a ball right now that is hurtling through space at impossible speeds. It seems like dinosaurs actually lived, and dragonflies could have wingspans more than three feet across, and that some flying reptiles of yesteryear were bigger than my house. It seems like mountains occasionally spew molten rock into the clouds, that whole civilizations have vanished in a flash, that men have made machines that can sail through the air, that the French Revolution happened, and that there really is a huge burning ball of fire in the sky. It seems like the moon is actually up there, and that it tugs the seas around. Yep. Everything is as it seems.

All of your books for children put your characters in situations where they are separated from their parents, and forced to survive (and excel) on their own. Why do you think this works so well in books for this audience?

I hope my stories feed young imaginations whether healthy or hurting.

The answer is a fairly simple one, but it has big ramifications. My protagonists are quite young, and yet they are, in fact, the protagonists. In a blissful, healthy family situation, the kids would rush to the parents to solve any truly fantastic and deadly problem that might arise. And so authors are left with a couple of general choices if they want the kids to be the heroes—they can create dysfunction in the familial relationship (a lack of parental trust, belief, etc.) or they can create dysfunction in the actual familial situation itself (missing parents, dead parents, physically distant parents, etc.). Both of these put the burden of hero-ing on the kids, but I tend to prefer the situational dysfunction to the relational one, because I don’t like fostering a mistrust of parents. On a sidenote, there are huge numbers of kids in this country being raised in fractured families (particularly with distant or absent fathers), and they seem to easily relate to feeling very, very on their own. I hope my stories feed young imaginations whether healthy or hurting.

All of your characters have such personality—even ones we don’t see very much, such as Billy Skelton, Horace and Nolan. Where do you get your ideas and personalities for your characters?

The details of passing humanity are always accumulating in my head. On the street, in traffic, in malls and airports and truckstops. As creepy as it sounds, I’m always watching, noting and collecting. Some of the best (and most impossible) dialogue I’ve ever written was stolen directly from the mouth of a particularly hilarious individual in the Spokane airport. When I’m out to dinner with my wife, there are plenty of times when she stops talking for a moment, and then she leans forward and says, “You’re not listening to me are you? You’re listening to the other booth.” And she’s always right (and she’s extremely patient). So the faces and ticks and mannerisms of my characters are generally assembled from my fellow man. But the skeleton, the thematic root and starting point, frequently takes inspiration from someone more historical, mythical or literary. My William Skelton is taken from Stevenson’s Billy Bones, for example. In Leepike Ridge, I had even more fun, building an assortment of villains around the trials of Odysseus. In 100 Cupboards, I kick off the Kansas fantasy with an aunt named Dorothy. In The Dragon’s Tooth, my favorite side character is a cook built on the greatest literary piratical villain (and cook) of all time.

Your writing draws on a number of genres and traditions. Tell us about some of your influences for The Dragon’s Tooth.

I wanted to nod extensively to Treasure Island (and I do, with characters and plot). I can’t write a book without dragging in a whole lot of Herodotus—whether he likes it or not—so his fingerprints are all over. C.S. Lewis and Tolkien are in my blood, and I don’t have a prayer of getting them out regardless of what I’m writing. I snitched some Ovid, and some Pliny the Elder, and snatched bits from the Epic of Gilgamesh. There’s also Elizabethan historical influence, and truckloads of material from the Age of Exploration in general. But, more uniquely (for me, at least), I also wanted to salt this thing with early modern themes and a lot of nuggets from the 20th century. Most people don’t realize that Americans drafted and adopted eugenics legislation before the Nazis ever did, and my primary villain is the fictitious son of a very real historical character who had a large hand in that filthy business. Of course, a lot of other (more recognizable) names will jump out at readers in passing. And I haven’t even mentioned Brendan the Navigator . . .

The series is named Ashtown Burials, yet we only get to see a glimpse of the Burials of Ashtown in The Dragon’s Tooth. What role will the Burials, and especially the criminals kept in the Burials, play in upcoming books?

Ha! That would be telling…

Both 100 Cupboards and Ashtown Burials have a very cinematic quality. How does your work as a screenwriter influence your novels?

I’d always been interested in working with film, but I actually came to screenwriting through the novels. I watched another writer do an adaptation of my first book (Leepike Ridge), and it looked awfully unintimidating. And if I did learn screen-craft, I assumed that I would gain more control over my own adaptations. (We’ll see!) So I did six months or so as a story consultant for DreamWorks, and then moved on to working on fresh scripts. In doing that, I discovered that the screenwriter is the man in the back room inventing and reworking story recipes—the director is the actual story-=teller. And so I’ve begun drifting in that direction (crazy, right?). Now, while 100 Cupboards and The Dragon’s Tooth are both with producers and in front of studios, I’m actually a little hands-off, focusing on the next novel and working on a couple of totally distinct script jobs (one of which I plan to direct).

So . . .none of that really answered your question. I think the novels feel cinematic because I love using a traditional three-act structure for this readership, and I drip sweat on my keyboard trying to make my description as vivid and immediate as possible. The novels still influence the scripts more than the other way around. (I think.)

Cyrus joins the Order of Brendan with his sister Antigone. Who would you pick to join you in a secret mythological organization?

My kids! Of course, they’ve already joined several on their own. My kids (and their cousins) even founded their own nation (called Apollo) and built their own history, mythology, and legal system (along with some strange weekly governmental rituals). They’ve even had civil wars. So, if I were to join something as dusty and byzantine as the O of B, I’d want them along to provide a veteran perspective. And, of course, I’m assuming my wife would already be in—I’d need her globe-trotting savvy.

How do you think you would fare attempting to pass the 1914 Acolyte requirements?

Give me a few months and I think I could do it. At least I could fail gloriously! I wanted the requirements (especially the fitness requirements) to actually be possible while seeming impossible. I’d need to find a good fencing instructor and enroll in flight school immediately. My Latin would only need a little brush up, but the second language would be tougher (I’ve taken Anglo-Saxon and Greek, but nothing modern). It all comes back to wanting this world to be my readers’ fantasy world—I’d love to inspire some kids out there to really throw themselves at academic and physical training combined (not one or the other). If they do, this crazy world really will open up to them.

Meg Wolitzer is best known for her clever novels for adults—most recently, The Uncoupling, a Lysistrata-inspired suburban drama. In her latest book, The Fingertips of Duncan Dorfman, she writes for a different audience: middle-schoolers. The novel is told from the perspective of three children attending the National Scrabble Tournament in Yakamee, Florida, where they’re competing for different reasons: to fit in (and attempt to win money for a single mom); to achieve a parent’s childhood dream; or to prove worth to a sports-obsessed family. In a Q&A with BookPage, Wolitzer answered questions about her own love of Scrabble and why she decided to write for kids. We’re glad she did, since her first effort is funny, charming and surprisingly suspenseful.

When did you first become interested in playing Scrabble? Do you remember your first bingo (play that uses all seven tiles)?

I played Scrabble with my mother from a very young age; she was very good at it, and she taught me the rules. I seem to recall a lot of outdoor Scrabble in my childhood, including at the town pool and the local beach. I don’t recall my first bingo, no, and I don’t even think we called them bingos back then. But I do remember learning the word CALYX in school and then miraculously having all the letters on my rack to make that word in Scrabble the following day. It was weird.

Louis Sachar wrote a book last year about a boy who becomes obsessed with bridge (The Cardturner). Now you’ve written a book about a kid who becomes obsessed with Scrabble. Are old-fashioned games seeing a resurgence of interest, or did they never go out of style?

I know that parents often try to re-create certain aspects of their own childhoods when they have kids, and I have very strong memories of Scrabble with mother, Monopoly with my sister and Mystery Date with my best friend. It seemed natural to me to insert lots of board games into the life of my new family when I grew up and had kids. I suspect a lot of people felt the same way, and as a result board games haven’t really gone away. My kids are now 16 and 20, and are deep in all things electronic, but I am still finding little cards and dice and tiles all around the house.

You’ve written many novels for adults (including BookPage’s Top Pick in Fiction for April, The Uncoupling). How did you have to modify your writing style when writing for children? Did you ever worry about “talking down” to your readers?

When I write a novel, I try to write the one I would like to find on the shelf. With a book for children, I kind of needed to do a mind-meld between my current writer/reader self, and the self who I used to be back in, say, fifth grade, in Mrs. Secunda’s class. I’m not all that different now, really, and because of this I didn’t worry too much about talking down to readers. I think the litmus test is essentially: Am I engaged with this as I’m writing it? Am I completely drawn in? Do I care about the characters and what happens to them? Would fifth-grade me have liked it?  

Your main characters who converge at the tournament each have a different set of concerns. There is Duncan—the outcast with a single mom; April—the girl who doesn’t fit in with her siblings and who is searching for a long-lost crush; and Nate—the skateboarding New Yorker whose dad forces him to play. Do you identify with any of these characters in particular?

I identify with all of them, but I particularly liked April’s sense of longing, which I remember feeling pretty strongly at her age. (My longing largely concerned Donny Osmond, but that’s another—embarrassing—story.)

From your town of women who are overcome by a spell in The Uncoupling to Duncan’s magical fingertips, your work seems to have taken a turn for the (slightly) supernatural. Why do you think that is?

It must have been something in the water . . . Truthfully, with The Uncoupling, I didn’t want the book to be whiny or complainy, with women talking endlessly about how their sex lives had fallen off. I knew I was trying to reach something a little bigger than that, using the spell as a metaphor to have a look at what happens to female desire over time. I suppose the same must have been true with The Fingertips of Duncan Dorfman. I liked the idea of giving him a “power,” but not some huge thunderbolt of ability. Instead, I gave him something low-key and odd. Defined that way, most kids have a power, a special ability that contributes to who they are. I felt that a very light layer of fantasy would help underscore that idea.

Is there any message or lesson you’d like readers to take from Duncan’s experience?

I think listening to your own instincts is essential in life. Making hard decisions based on what your own inner voice—not anyone else’s—tells you. Oh, and also: I’d love it if the book made them see that Scrabble is a terrific game.

Do you have plans to continue writing books for children? What is your next project?

Yes, I am writing a second book for Dutton. It’s at a very early stage right now, that lovely moment when the book can go off in many different directions, and you can experiment a lot and not have to commit to anything. I’m still at that time in the writing when anything seems possible.

Much of the time, Sarah Weeks feels like she’s still in middle school. As the author of some 50 books for kids, that’s a very good—almost essential—thing. 

“I remember what it feels like to make believe,” Weeks explains during a call to her home in Nyack, New York. It’s an attitude that has stood her in good stead over the last 20 years, during which she has written picture books and middle-grade novels, including the award-winner So B. It and her new novel, Pie.

To write for kids, Weeks says, “you have to have arrested development on some level. It probably makes me annoying to live with, because I’m basically a kid. I think of myself as being very deeply rooted in sixth grade.” 

When it came to writing Pie, the author says it “was by far the most fun I’ve ever had writing a book.” It’s certainly fun to read: Pie combines stories of family, food and friendship with comical shenanigans and well-crafted characters—including a mysterious pastry thief and a cranky cat named Lardo.

Things start to get strange when Aunt Polly bequeaths her prized pie crust recipe to her cranky cat.

There are pie recipes, too. The first, apple pie, was provided by Weeks; for the rest, she “wrote to friends and family and teachers and schools I’d visited. . . . I got back recipes, stories and lots of pictures of pies.”

Pie has long been part of the author’s life: Growing up, she and her mother baked together, and Weeks bakes for her own family. But despite the pastry’s prominence in Pie, the author says, “It was not my intention to write a book about pie, but to write about gratitude. I have a huge amount to be grateful for.”

Alice, the young heroine of the book, learns gratitude from her beloved Aunt Polly, who shows her by example the joy of doing things for the experience, whether or not it results in plaudits or paydays. Polly is the Pie Queen of Ipswitch, Pennsylvania. People come from near and far to bring Polly fresh ingredients that she makes into delicious pies. This makes her visitors very happy—but leaves Alice’s mother feeling jealous. And when Polly dies in 1955, she leaves her Blueberry Award-winning pie crust recipe to her cat, Lardo . . . and she leaves Lardo to Alice.

That’s when things start to get strange. There’s a green Chevrolet rolling slowly through town, Alice’s mother insists on baking pies (even though she’s terrible at it), and it turns out Alice’s friend Charlie possesses strong amateur detective skills (which come in very handy).

Although Alice’s life gets chaotic after her aunt’s passing, the goings-on are set against a simpler backdrop: a small town in the 1950s. “I was born in 1955, and Pie takes place there,” Weeks says. “I wanted to set it in a time where there were no worries about cell phones, computers, Google.”

She also kept research to a minimum. “I’m very lazy about it,” she says with a laugh. “My dad was always reading the newspaper, and I watched ‘Sky King’ every day. I used references that were actually relevant, rather than searching to find things.”

In fact, this focus-on-the-actual approach is what got Weeks started as an author. For many years, she was a singer-songwriter. Then she met an editor who suggested she turn her songs into books: “It was a fairly direct translation, because many of my first picture books had a CD in the back with me singing. I segued to picture books without songs, and then chapter books.”

Weeks had two young sons when she started writing, and they weren’t big readers—a boon to her writing, too. “The way they fought and talked to each other was very funny. It was a goldmine—I could put embarrassing things in my books and they’d have no idea. They know now, though. Gabe got a girlfriend, and she started reading all my books.” 

Although her own kids are on to her, Weeks’ abiding fascination with the younger set provides ample story fodder. “I’m interested in what makes them tick. I like the weird kids, the ones that do something unusual.”

Perhaps that explains her fondness for the final recipe in Pie: Peanut Butter Raspberry Cream Pie. “It’s the one I feel most grateful for, from a teacher whose school I visited in Illinois. Her grandma was a little senile and mixed up two recipes. We now call it PBJ.”

If events thus far are any indication, Weeks will get to taste plenty more pie—unusual or otherwise—as the word spreads about Pie. Her publisher, Scholastic, hosted a “Pie Palooza,” she’s scheduled to judge a pie contest in Connecticut and she will visit “everywhere there’s pie.” 

Here’s hoping the crusts are flaky and delicious, just like the ones on Aunt Polly’s award winners.

Author Lisa McMann took some chances with her latest book, The Unwanteds, and her unexpected choices have clearly paid off. For the first time, she aimed her work at a middle grade audience, rather than the teen readers who have made her Wake trilogy a bestseller. And she tackled a genre—dystopian fantasy—that's much more popular in the YA world than in middle grade fiction.

The result is an original and exciting novel that's not only fun to read, but also a great way to get kids thinking about issues like creativity, conformity and the power of the individual vs. society. In The Unwanteds, children who are too creative or expressive are "purged" from their repressive community at age 13 and driven away to face the Eliminators and (they assume) certain death. In the Stowe family, young Aaron is selected for the prestigious "Wanted" group, while his twin brother Alex is labeled an "Unwanted" and led away in chains.

Critics and young readers alike have embraced the book, the first in a planned series. We contacted McMann at her home near Phoenix, where she lives with her husband and two teenagers, to find out more about how the book came to be.

What experiences have you had as a parent that helped to inspire this story?

It’s funny—the whole idea for the Unwanteds series came from an incident involving my kids. One day, when they were 12 and 9, they came home from school with news that the school would be cutting some of the arts programs due to budget shortfalls. I was really bummed out because my kids liked art, music, theatre, etc. And I said, sort of off the cuff, “Wow, guys, I’m so sorry. It kind of feels like you’re getting punished for being creative.” And then I thought about that for a minute and said, “Hey, what if there really was a world where children were punished for being creative?”

My son, who was 12, looked at me very seriously and said, “Not just punished, Mom. Sent to their deaths!”

And my daughter and I said, “Yeah!” And that’s how it all started.

Did you ever feel “unwanted” as a creative little girl?

Absolutely. I’m pretty sure everyone feels unwanted at one point or another. There were several years there where I felt like Charlie Bucket from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory was my only friend. And when it came to my secret desire to be a writer, I just never felt like I could tell people that for fear of being teased. Being a writer wasn’t something people around me aspired to be. It was very “artsy” and out there, not at all cool.

What considerations did you give to the scary aspects of this story since it is aimed at middle grade readers, instead of your usual teen audience?

I didn’t really think about it while writing it, though the scary scenes are definitely less graphic in this series than in my teen books. I wrote The Unwanteds with my kids in mind, and my main goal was to write a book that my then 9-year-old reluctant reader would want to read (yay, it worked!). So I guess a sort of parental comfort level played a part instinctively—I knew what my kids could handle, but I also knew what they would expect. Action. Love. Evil. Danger. Conflict. In the end, they were delighted to discover that if they lived in Quill, they’d be doomed.

I believe kids know the difference between fantasy and real life. A few parents might wince at the “to the death!” concept, worrying that their vulnerable little one isn’t ready for such a heavy topic. But children view the scary stuff in literature as a chance to experience risk and adventure from the safety of the couch. The truth remains that characters in grave danger and extreme peril make us care deeply about them, no matter what our age. And I’ve seen it time and again—when children feel uncomfortable with a book, they put it down. They are not going to waste precious fun time reading a book that makes them feel yucky.

What influenced you in your portrayal of the special bond between twins? Do you know any twins or did you do any research on the bonds between twins?

I had five sets of twins in my graduating class in school and I’ve always been fascinated by how much the identical ones looked alike, but were often very different personality-wise. I also researched a bit about the intense bond twins have with each other, sometimes to the point of being able to feel each other’s pain, or intuitively know when the other is in trouble.

I decided to use twins because I loved the intense conflict—brother against brother. One a Wanted, one an Unwanted. Identical, yet so totally opposite. One trying hard to be evil, one very good, but with an unbreakable bond between them. That’s just so exciting to me.

What reactions have you gotten from young readers to the book?

Enthusiastic! I should start by saying that after touring high schools with each of my four previous teen novels, I was a little bit afraid of doing presentations to fourth through eighth graders. But wow, I forgot how much I love this age! Kids aren’t afraid to tell me what they think should happen in books two, three, four and beyond. It’s such a delight. Often I’ll talk about how my husband and kids and I sat around the living room coming up with spells based on art supplies, and I tell them that maybe over lunch or on the bus ride home they can do the same thing with their friends. That always gets 45 zillion hands shooting up so they can tell me the magic spells they’d create. I love it.

What message do you hope readers will take from The Unwanteds?

I suppose I should say something responsible like “Everyone should accept others no matter what,” or “good prevails over evil,” or “eat your Brussels sprouts,” but the truth is that I just want kids to have a book they can fall into and love and experience just for the fun and adventure of it all. And maybe the kids out there feeling unwanted can find a little comfort knowing they’re not alone.

What were your favorite books as a young reader?

Oh, I love this question. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory because Charlie suffered more than me, and I loved him for that. Little Women because of Amy and the limes, and because of Jo and the hair, and the suffering . . . do you sense a theme here? I loved Narnia, which was definitely an influence in my writing of The Unwanteds. I loved all the original dark fairy tales (the ones that ended with children being killed, not the fake ones with happy endings), and I loved Charlotte’s Web, because I just knew deep down that with the right combination of pig, girl and spider, they’d all be able to talk to each other, and that story could really happen. (And I knew I was the right girl.)

How do your two children feel about having a mom who’s a successful writer?

At first they were embarrassed, but then when Miley Cyrus and Paramount optioned the film rights to the Wake series, they thought I was probably sort of cool, and then when they started seeing kids in school walking down the hallway reading my books, they decided I was worth keeping. But I’m still not allowed to speak at their school.

What's coming next in the Unwanteds series?

So. Much. Drama. Book two (The Unwanteds: Island of Silence) will be out in September 2012. The suspense and danger ramps up as the momentary stability between Quill and Artimé crumbles. In Quill, Aaron tries to recover from his failures and get revenge, and in Artimé, Mr. Today has a surprising plan in store for Alex. New characters are introduced in both worlds, there is mass chaos, disappearances and death. I would never say this out loud, but secretly? It’s the best book I’ve ever written, and I can’t wait for you to read it.

Do you have any advice for parents on what they can do to encourage creativity in their children?

You know, we parents are all bozos on this bus together, just trying to figure it out and get it right, aren’t we? But now that my kids are 18 and 15, I can think of some things I could have done better in those middle grade years.

I think it’s really important to realize that creativity comes in many packages. In the world of Quill, it’s only the artistically creative kids who are considered to be Unwanted. But the ruler of Quill overlooks the nature of the very people she promotes—like Aaron, the Wanted twin. He’s extremely creative in coming up with ways to improve their society’s resources, but because he is obedient to the law of the land, his kind of creativity isn’t feared, so he’s safe.

For the child who is artistically creative, I absolutely love and recommend children’s community theatre, and not just for actors. There are wonderful experiences to be had for singers, painters, kids creative in building sets, and for those interested in the technical side of things—sound and lights and backstage managing. There’s so much camaraderie in putting on a show as a team—the friendships they build will be deep and strong.

For the child who doesn’t like to draw or sing or act or tell stories, why not encourage them to help with landscaping, or ask them to fix things around the house, or figure out the best way to lay out the furniture in a room? Ask them to estimate how much you’re spending based on the groceries in the cart, and maybe they can create a computer generated grocery list or expense spreadsheet. Maybe they can’t draw a giraffe to save their life, but they can take an old clock apart and put it back together, or create a go-cart out of two skateboards, a lawnmower and a broken dining room chair. Or maybe they’re really gifted with patience for younger children, and could shine as a babysitter or a volunteer in afterschool daycare. Maybe they can create a better cup holder in your car that keeps your coffee from sloshing around. Or maybe they can tutor students in science, or sell lemonade like it’s going out of style and raise money for charity. And maybe they can run or swim or play football with a natural instinct that makes you marvel. Creativity knows no bounds. Every child has a gift we can encourage.

One last thing. A few years ago my daughter said “I’m going to perform on Broadway,” and I very nearly told her that the chances of that were slim to none. What was I thinking? And who am I, shy nerdy girl from small town Michigan-turned-NYT best-selling author, to crush my kid’s creative dream? We think we’re protecting them by telling them the odds. But what they hear us say is, “I don’t believe you are good enough to do that.”

So when your child says “I’m going to win ‘American Idol,’ ” or “I’m going to be on the space shuttle,” or “I’m going to play for the NBA,” say something like, “If anyone can do it, it’s you. Go for it.” There are plenty of other people who will discourage them along the way. Somebody’s got to have your kid’s back. Let it be you.

Many people are familiar with the 1957 Central High Crisis—when nine African-American students integrated the Little Rock public high school in the face of segregationist threats and protests—but less famous is the “lost year,” which happened the year after the Crisis. In 1958, the Arkansas governor closed the Little Rock public high schools in order to prevent integration, leaving students and teachers in limbo and the city divided. Kristin Levine’s novel The Lions of Little Rock is about an unlikely friendship that develops during this tumultuous period of history.

In the story, the painfully shy 12-year-old Marlee becomes friends with Liz, an outgoing new girl at her middle school. Liz helps Marlee gain the confidence to give a speech in class, but on the day of the presentation, Marlee learns that Liz has withdrawn from school. Turns out Liz is actually African American, and she was passing as white. After this discovery, Marlee must first decide whether she wishes to remain in contact with Liz—then the two courageous girls face violence and the disapproval of their families as they fight for their friendship.

BookPage spoke with author Levine about her sensitive and compelling historical novel.

During your research about the “lost year,” what surprised you the most?
I actually didn’t start out to write about the “lost year.” I was planning to write a book set during 1957-58 when the Little Rock Nine were integrating Central High School. But when I went to Little Rock to do some interviews, everyone I talked to had much more to say about 1958-59, the year when the schools were closed.

I had never heard about schools being closed to prevent integration. It seemed like such a drastic thing to do—cutting off your nose to spite your face. But as I did more research, I realized this had happened in other places as well, including in my home state of Virginia.

And in some ways, more people were affected by the events of 1958-59. Nearly everyone had a sibling, friend or neighbor who was affected by the four public high schools being closed. Also, the events of the Little Rock Nine have already been written about by those who were there. I eventually decided I could add more to the discussion by writing about the “lost year.”

Did you come across evidence of black children passing as white in Little Rock public schools of this era?
My uncle attended Little Rock public schools, including Central High School, a few years before the Little Rock Nine. While I was interviewing him for The Lions of Little Rock, he mentioned that when he was a student at West Side Junior High, there was a boy who was “there one day and gone the next.” The rumor was that the boy had been black.

While I have no way of knowing if that boy had indeed been “passing,” my uncle and his friends at school believed that he was. I needed a way for my main characters to get to know each other. With a bit of poetic license, passing became a way for my main characters to meet and become friends.

Is the friendship between Marlee and Liz based on a real relationship? Do you believe close interracial friendships like theirs existed in Little Rock of the 1950s?
Yes and no.

On the one hand, I was inspired by the friendship Melba Pattillo Beals (one of the Little Rock Nine) describes in her book, Warriors Don’t Cry. She talks about becoming close to a white boy who pretended to torment her with the others at school, but actually tried to protect her. She often talked to him on the phone at night, and he would warn her about harassment that was being planned for the next day at school. I was especially struck by the episode she describes of driving with him to visit his beloved black nanny. The woman had been dismissed from her position with his family once she became too old and sick to work for them, and the boy and Ms. Beals tried to get her medical care.

On the other hand, I think a friendship of the kind I describe in my book would have been quite unlikely at this time. As I did research, I realized there was very little contact between blacks and whites in Little Rock in the 1950s. My first book, The Best Bad Luck I Ever Had, was set in a small town in Alabama in 1917, and it was surprising to me that there was actually much more contact between blacks and whites in that place and time.

In the end, I guess I’m an optimist. Based on Melba Pattillo Beals’ recollections, I like to imagine that a friendship like Marlee and Liz’s could have happened, even if it wasn’t very likely.

How do you think you would have reacted to the integration had you been a student at Central in 1957?
I believe I would have been supportive of it. Even as a child, I was very interested in issues of moral fairness and doing what was right. My parents have always been interested in social justice as well, and I guess that rubbed off on me.

But it is so hard to say what you would have done until you’ve lived through something like that. I know I would have started out being friendly, but once the threats or name-calling started, would I have continued to be friendly? Or would I have become silent like so many others? I’m not sure, but I hope I would have continued to speak up.

For this book, you had to research historical events as well as identify day-to-day details from ‘50s-era Little Rock. How did you know when you had done sufficient research and could go on to writing your narrative?
I don’t think I was ever quite sure I’d “done enough” research. After a while, I decided I had to just start writing to see if the story would work. If I came to a section where I needed more details, Google made it simple to look up popular “candy flavors” or “fast-food restaurants.” But I continued to do research as I was writing, up until the very end, using books and films, and emailing contacts in Little Rock when necessary. (My favorite comment was from a friend in Little Rock telling me that the elephant’s name was really Ruth, not Bessie as I had imagined. I made that change with the final edits.)

In the end, I guess I’m an optimist. I like to imagine that a friendship like Marlee and Liz’s could have happened, even if it wasn’t very likely.

Between your book and David Margolick’s Elizabeth and Hazel, it seems the Central High Crisis and its aftermath are receiving quite a lot of attention in the public eye. Why do you think Little Rock’s chapter in Civil Rights history remains interesting to writers?
Because school integration is an ongoing issue. In some way, I feel like we’ve recently taken some steps backwards. The schools I attended as I child that were paired to increase their diversity have been “un-paired.” More attention is being given to test scores than promoting equality.

In fact, a few weeks ago I was talking to a group of fifth and sixth graders about The Lions of Little Rock, and explaining how I believe we are still dealing with many of these issues. They immediately understood what I was talking about. “Oh yeah,” one boy said, “Everyone calls [school name] the white school!” An interesting discussion followed about the fact that, although we live in a diverse area, our local schools do not always reflect that diversity.

Why that happens— and what we can do about it—is something I hope my book, and others like it, will inspire people to think about.

Both of your novels frankly address racism and unlikely friendships. Even in 2012, these are not easy topics to write about or discuss. What motivates you to tell your stories?
As a child, I had a wonderful friendship with a boy who was unlike me in many ways. After third grade, he was held back for a year, while I went on to another school, and though we continued to live in the same town, we grew apart. I’ve always remembered that friendship fondly, even though I was teased a lot because of it.

As a white woman, for a long time I felt like I wasn’t qualified to write about race. But then I realized that wasn’t true. Racism isn’t a black issue, or a Hispanic or Asian issue, it’s an issue for anyone who cares about fairness and equality. These are values I hold very dear, which is why I write about them.

That doesn’t mean it’s easy, however. At times, I worry I will say something stupid or unintentionally offensive. In the end, however, I decided that that was a risk I needed to take because being silent just wasn’t enough.

What is your next project?
​I’m still trying to figure out exactly what I’m going to do next. I’ve always wanted to write sci-fi or fantasy, which at first seems like a big leap, but I guess it’s really not. In historical fiction, you’re trying to create a time and place, just like you’re creating a different world in sci-fi or fantasy.

But of course I also really enjoy historical fiction. And now that I’ve based one book on my grandfather (The Best Bad Luck I Ever Had) and one book very loosely on my mother [a Little Rock native], my father is clamoring that it’s HIS turn for a book. So there may be a book about a paperboy in Chicago in my future.

One of our favorite new children's books is Three Times Lucky, a middle grade mystery from first-time author Sheila Turnage. With a lead character who reminds us more than a little of Scout from To Kill a Mockingbird, a rollicking cast of Southern eccentrics and plenty of strange goings-on in the tiny town of Tupelo Landing, this beautifully told story is guaranteed to make kids smile, think—and keep turning the pages to see what happens next.

We caught up with Turnage between stops on her book tour to find out more about the spunky young heroine of Three Times Lucky and how the book came to be.

Mo LoBeau is such a wonderful character. How did she first spring up in your imagination?
I know it might sound odd, but one day this 11-year-old girl in plaid sneakers just started kicking at the door of my imagination and saying things like, “Hey, I’m Mo LoBeau. You got a minute? I got a story to tell.”

And there she was, Miss Moses LoBeau. Rising sixth-grader, part-time detective, yellow-belt karate student. I liked her immediately. I listened to her. I started writing and didn’t stop until she’d told her story and solved her mysteries.

What do you like best about Mo? What do you think young readers will admire or identify with when they read about her?
I love Mo’s smarts. Also her humor and toughness—and the vulnerability those qualities hide. I think kids will identify with those traits. And I think they’ll identify with her search for her missing “Upstream Mother” and her place in the world. Oh yeah, and there’s a murder to solve. . . . Everybody loves a mystery!

Author Sheila Turnage near her home in eastern North Carolina.

Why do kids make such good detectives? Would you have been a good detective as a child?
Kids make great detectives because they ARE great detectives. Kids have to figure out everything! How things work, what things mean, how our lives all fit together. I think kids are naturally curious, creative thinkers—two qualities detectives need to ferret out clues and put them together in a way that makes sense. If I’d gone into the detective business as a kid, I like to think I would have been a great one. Maybe not as great as Mo and Dale, but darned good.

The novel includes a very full cast of eccentric characters! Did your friends, family and neighbors in North Carolina inspire many of these characters or are they purely fictional creations?
Good question! All the characters in Three Times Lucky are fiction. As I wrote this book, bits and pieces of my own life morphed into Tupelo Landing, where Three Times Lucky takes place. But no particular person inspired any specific character.

What kind of books did you enjoy as a child and how did that influence your work in Three Times Lucky?
I loved books with vivid characters, and with a sense of place strong enough to make me think I could live there if I wanted to, no matter how unlikely the scenario. That’s what makes a book exciting to me. I loved Tom Sawyer, Peter Pan and Winnie the Pooh for those reasons. I also loved mysteries, like the Hardy Boys—exciting books with a puzzle to solve. I guess I like to write what I like to read: exciting books with vivid, heart-felt characters and a strong sense of place.

When you wrote Three Times Lucky, did you set out to create a children's book?
No! I didn’t know it was a novel for kids until it was almost finished, and my agent told me. I wasn’t thinking about who would read it, I was just doing my best to write Mo’s story. I am delighted that it turned out to be for kids!

Can you give us a brief description of the place where you do most of your writing?
At this moment I’m writing in a high-ceilinged room at 9 a.m., with lots of sunlight flowing through the east-facing windows. A ceiling fan swipes overhead. The room’s a little messy: stacks of spiral notebooks, a box of paper for the printer, manuscripts lolling about. I see a half-consumed cup of coffee in my Harry Potter cup, a winter scarf tossed over a chair back, though it’s now May. My computers sit on a large oak teacher’s desk I got at a second hand store years ago. (I consider getting a new desk from time to time, but this one is too heavy to carry downstairs so I will probably use it forever.)

The farmhouse near Greenville, North Carolina, where Sheila Turnage lives and works once belonged to her great-grandparents.

You’ve attended the same writing class for 30 years. What kind of help and support did the class provide while you were writing this novel?
I wrote the first draft of this book at home, and the first time I wrote Three Times Lucky it was three times too long! So I rewrote it to shorten it, and took it to Pat O’Leary’s writing seminar at Pitt Community College in Winterville, North Carolina, for other writers to critique.

There are great writers in that ongoing class—which is for new writers and more experienced writers. We offer each other encouragement, feedback and friendship. The class gives me the chance to develop new skills. Reading about writing is one thing, but for me it’s important to practice the same way a musician practices.

I love that class because it gives me a chance to get good at what I love doing, and it gives me a chance to be part of a creative community.

If you could name yourself something outrageous and a little famous, what would it be?
Wow, I don’t know. How about Tupelo Turnage? It doesn’t have the snap of Sheila Warrior Princess, but I think it works. Don’t you?

RELATED IN BOOKPAGE
Read a review of Three Times Lucky.

Rebecca Stead, the Newbery-winning author of When You Reach Me, has written another heartfelt and funny novel set in New York City. In Liar & Spy, an awkward seventh grader, Georges, moves to a new apartment building and is recruited to join the Spy Club, run by a mysterious boy named Safer. Along with his little sister, Candy, Safer shows Georges that everything in life is not as it seems.

In a Q&A with BookPage, Stead shares the top qualities in a spy—and tells us if lying is ever okay.

Were you nervous about living up to high expectations for your work after you won the Newbery? How did you prepare yourself for writing again?
The bitter truth is that writing always makes me nervous, because to write well I have to expose my innermost self while simultaneously trying to entertain people. It’s a little like dancing in public, without music. Newbery attention makes it harder only because more people are watching.

And I don’t ever prepare myself to write. I have no writing routine. What I do is walk around feeling frustrated that I am not writing, and that frustration builds until finally I start writing. Reading something wonderful is usually what allows me to begin. Something that opens me up and makes me think “oh, what the heck. I may as well go for it.”

Which character do you most identify with in Liar & Spy?
Probably Candy. She is a watcher. And she feels responsible for the people she loves. But if you ask me again tomorrow, I might have a different answer.

What are the most useful qualities in a spy?
An observant personality, the ability to work alone and a good sense of direction.  The sense of direction would be my downfall.

Is it ever okay to tell a lie?
Yes. To be kind, for instance, or to save your life. But I believe that most people probably lie for lesser reasons, almost every day.

Have you ever been tempted to spy on someone or ever caught a glimpse of someone surreptitiously?
Not deliberately. But I live in New York City, where there are a lot of lit windows at night.

A spy needs to have an observant personality, the ability to work alone and a good sense of direction.

When you start writing a book, do you know how it will end? There are twists and turns in your novel, but they feel so natural once the reader figures out what’s going on.
I know very little at the beginning. I have a sense of what I want to get at, but few clear ideas about how I’m going to get there. I write slowly. I don’t think about plot because when I think about plot my mind goes blank and I feel desperate. Instead I think about which characters attract my interest, because where there is interest, there is potential for emotion, and where there is emotion, there is plot. Sometimes I just stop writing for a while, and wait for ideas to bubble up. That’s nerve-wracking. And most people would say it’s the wrong way to go about it.

You have a lot of fun with words and messages in this book, from Georges’ notes with Scrabble tiles to wacky fortune cookie fortunes. Does this interest extend to your real life?
Well, I don’t have the patience for Scrabble, most days. I like Bananagrams. My notes are boring and practical. But I love thinking about why things are the way they are, and how they might be different. I guess you could say that I love to question the premise, especially when I’m writing.

When you were in middle school, where did you sit in the cafeteria? Like Georges, did you ever have to remind yourself to look at the big picture and realize that social awkwardness will (hopefully) pass?
I can’t even remember what my middle-school cafeteria looked like. We mostly went out for lunch. But middle school was the only time in my life when I was regularly called names—names that had to do with how I looked, or what I wore, or who my friends were. I remember the feeling of walking down the hall and not knowing when some verbal or physical jab might be thrown at me. But I was lucky—I had one good friend. So I was always basically okay.

Safer and Candy are allowed to name themselves. If your parents had let you name yourself, what would you have chosen?
Probably something awful. I don’t have a middle name, and when I was little I used to try to think of good ones. For a while I decided my middle name was Mario, pronounced ma-REE-oh. And when I was about six, my middle name was Amanda, because I was trying desperately to please a girl named Amanda. I remember eating Chap-Stik when she asked me to. Apparently I would do anything for her.

What’s the last book you read that you really want to recommend to someone else?
The Orphan Master’s Son, by Adam Johnson. It’s a beautifully written, amazing (and fictional) story about one man’s life in North Korea. World-building at its best.

RELATED CONTENT
Read a review of Liar & Spy.

Author Shannon Hale set the bar high for herself with the publication of Princess Academy in 2005. The fairy tale won a Newbery Honor, and countless fans were taken with the book’s heroine, Miri, and her home in Mount Eskel. Hale intended the novel to stand alone, but Miri, Britta and friends bubbled to the surface of her thoughts over time, and a new story took root.

In Princess Academy: Palace of Stone, Miri journeys to Asland and is caught up in a fledgling political movement. Her loyalties are tested as she tries to unite intellect and instinct and do right by her new friends, along with her home and family.

We contacted Hale at her home in Utah to ask a few questions about how the magic happens.

You originally thought Princess Academy would be a stand-alone story. How did you know you weren't done telling it? What prompted you to write a sequel?
It was one word: revolution. I thought I knew what Miri and her friends were up to after Princess Academy, but about three years ago that word popped into my mind and changed everything. I was so intrigued by the idea of it that I had to tell the story.?

Politics run deep throughout Palace of Stone. Issues of class, fairness and appearance vs. reality infuse the story. What (if anything) do you hope young readers will take away from this that might be useful when studying present-day events?
I hope they get whatever they need from the book. Stories have that wonderful elasticity to them, don't they? We can read about long ago, compare to our day and see things anew. I didn't write the story toward any particular moral or lesson. I tried to be as true to the characters and their story as I could with the hope that readers today could relate and allow the story to help them think through whatever questions they have.

Miri's letters home to Marda are short but bring us so much closer to Miri. Her heart, intelligence and humor come through in an intimate way, apart from all the action. Why did you decide to incorporate letters into the story?
Thank you! It was really one of those moments of grace that I can't plan for. Somewhere in those muggy fourth or fifth drafts, I depend on an idea to occur to me that will help make the story better. I wanted to hear Miri's voice more, I wanted her to be able to connect with home and family so far away and keep Mount Eskel real and present in the action. And then I wrote the words, "Dear Marda," and thought, "Ah-ha!" I had about four letters in one draft, my editor said, "I wouldn't mind more," and they ended up adding this extra layer and voice I was grateful for.

Adolescence is that wonderful time when we start to decide who, exactly, we are. So much of who we are is who we choose to be with. As part of growing up, Miri had to make that choice.

Why do most chapters open with a bit of verse or song?
Ay yi yi, the sticky situations writers get themselves into! In Princess Academy, singing was an important cultural exercise, so I started writing out bits of their songs to help create the setting. I naively thought, "Wouldn't it be nice to have a song at the beginning of each chapter that reflects the upcoming action in an interesting way?" It ended up being one of the most challenging parts of writing that book. I'd set a precedent so I had to do the same for Palace of Stone! I love them now and am glad I put in the sweat. In Palace of Stone, I was able to use not only songs but poems, plays, chants and mnemonic devices. Miri encounters such a bigger, more complicated world in the second book, and I wanted those verses to reflect that.

Miri loves Peder, but his seeming indifference leads her to infatuation with Timon, who may or may not be good for her. This theme occurs in so many ways in YA fiction; why do you think that is? Why did you want Miri to have two suitors?
I think the love triangle is a very effective tool for exploring romance and protracting romantic tension in any book. However, I never thought "love triangle" when I was writing Palace of Stone. A core question of this story is Miri's choice; Mount Eskel or Asland? Peder was her first love from her home, her childhood friend. I wanted her to meet someone who represented the excitement, passion, and complications of the capital city. I wanted the tension of her choice to be reflected in those closest to her. Adolescence is that wonderful time when we start to decide who, exactly, we are. So much of who we are is who we choose to be with. As part of growing up, Miri had to make that choice.

The magic in this book seems to say that where you come from holds great power. Linder can be a communication tool, but too much exposure can crowd the mind and be distracting. Where did the idea of linder first come from, and how did it grow over these two books?
Ooh, I love all your thoughts on the story. That's really beautiful. In Princess Academy, I knew I wanted the setting to be rustic or remote, in contrast with the royal errand placed on it. Once I decided mountaintop quarriers, the story really started to take shape. In researching quarrying, I learned how dangerous the profession was and how the deafening sounds made it impossible to hear warnings or commands. I wanted the villagers to have some talent that was all their own, and so this silent communication made sense. I enjoyed using quarry-speech to explore all those ideas of communication, balance, memory and kinship. For a second book, I knew I'd have to raise the stakes. As Miri grows, so does her power and influence. ?

Female friendships are important to the story, but often fraught with complications due to class or etiquette expectations. What can readers learn from Miri's use of diplomacy to improve relationships?
I think there's a real art to friendship. I think as a young girl, I would have liked to know that friendship is both vital and a struggle for everyone, but that one can learn how to be a better friend. There were tools that could help the earnest, lost little girl I was navigate those tricky relationships. I hope if anything from Miri's experiences resonates with readers, they might feel less alone and better equipped to be the kind of friend they'd like to have.

If Miri lived in the U.S. in the present day, her age notwithstanding, do you think she'd have a shot in politics?
Oh sure! Why not? She's got passion, a strong sense of justice and equality, and intelligence . . . wait, are those prerequisites for politics in the U.S.??

Fill in the blank: If I ruled the world, my first act would be ______.
To guarantee every child access to a good education.?

The skills Miri acquired in the first book are put to use in this one, and she ends up finding a way to fulfill several of her desires. Her future holds great potential, which begs the question: Might there be a volume three?
I was very secretive when writing Palace of Stone. For about a year, no one knew I was working on it besides my husband. But I feel less shy about it now. Yes, there will be a third. I want each book to stand alone. I'm not great at writing a traditional series, I think. But a question came up while writing Palace of Stone, and I soon realized that the answer was another book. And hopefully this one won't take me seven years to complete.?