An Afterword for BANNEKER BONES AND THE GIANT ROBOT BEES Part Three: Let's Talk About Bees (and economics)

This is the final part of a three-part afterword for Banneker Bones and the Giant Robot Bees. If you read the first two parts, surely you've read the book by now, but if you haven't (why not? It's so much better than these blog posts), beware of casual spoilers ahead. In the first part of this post, I discussed race and my inspiration for the novel. In the second part, I told you my wacky beliefs about writing being magical rather than a rational artistic process involving the subconscious, which it probably is, but man it sure feels magic. So that just leaves us with a discussion of Richard Adams, robot bees, and economics (naturally).

So, as I explained in agonizing detail last part, Banneker took over my story and made me change the whole thing, bumping my planned plot involving alligator people to book two. Probably, that's just as well. Alligator people are an involved antagonist and Banneker had declared himself an antagonist for much of this first story. When Banneker did what he did, he changed the whole genre I was writing in. This was no longer primarily a science fiction adventure/mystery, though it's still all of those things as well. It was (spoiler and don't let young boys read this lest it kill sales) a love story.

No, really. Although there's a kidnapping and a great deal of action involving jet packs and robot bees, the plot of Banneker Bones and the Giant Robot Bees is that of a romance novel. It's a Bro-mance. I can show you my original outline and notes (maybe someday I'll stick them in a special edition release), but the giant robot bees don't make their first appearance until Chapter 37, nearly halfway through the book, and I barely even mention them before then. If this were simply a mystery plot involving a ransom, halfway through the book is way too late in the game to introduce the villains. I'd never get away with it if the primary plot wasn't about something else, and it is.

The primary plot is introduced in Chapter 1, as it should be. Ellicott Skullworth is a lonely boy setting out on an adventure, the shy heroine of any first romance. When he arrives at Latimer City, he meets a dashing rogue in Banneker (also lonely) and naturally they hate each other, but the reader just knows by the last chapter they're going to be friends. Obviously, there's no kissing or stirring of passions, but there is a culminating bro-hug complete with back patting. Not all love is romantic love and a best friend is something every eleven-year-old boy, too young yet for actual romance, longs for. Mrs. Ninja is the love of my life, but Adam Smith, who illustrated the novel, has been my best friend since the third grade. There's never been any romance between us (I could do better), but our relationship means a great deal to me and he knows things about me Mrs. Ninja doesn't by virtue of having been around longer.

Before I wrote books, I wrote screenplays and I started my writing journey in film school. I wrote 8 screenplays before I realized I liked writing more than movie making (less compromise) and became a barely employable English major. My favorite of all my screenplays was one called Giant Robot Bees From Outer Space (best title evah!). I liked it so much I've promised myself I'll still make the movie one day even though I know I won't. It was a tale of beekeeping brothers in love with the same woman who discover the honey of the giant robot bees from space who've recently arrived is delicious and the brothers attack their hive for one big score. Man, it would've made a good movie if I had the budget to pull it off (never got close), but it wouldn't work as a horror novel for adults. Movies can be funny and scary at the same time, but I think books (outside of Stephen King's hilarious satire Needful Things) have a harder time of it.

But the giant robot bees seem perfectly at home in middle grade and the nice thing about writing books is I don't have to worry about a production budget. Should someone ever be crazy enough to make a live-action Banneker Bones and the Giant Robot Bees movie, they have my sympathy trying to afford all the robot special effects in this story. I don't have to worry about how much it costs to bring the bees back in sequels, so I probably will. The lesson here for writers is never throw anything out. Always keep a copy of your previous work because you never know when you might find a good idea or two worth transporting to a fresh story.

I've said Banneker Bones is a lot like me, and he really is. I feel connected to Ellicott also, but unfortunately for my parents, I was much closer to Banneker at age eleven. One way in which we are exactly the same is in our aversion to bees. I've written horror for older readers, but nothing in those stories scares me as much as bees.

Back when I was making movies on no budget, I devised an overhead shot by sitting on the edge of a five-story parking garage and filming the actors below. All went well until a bee flew into my face, causing me to panic and topple over the edge. I didn't fall because Adam Smith caught me (and swatted the bee away), which is one of many reasons it's nice to have a best friend. If I could explain my irrational fear of tiny insects to which I'm not allergic (I think, though I've always run screaming before I could be stung), it wouldn't be an irrational fear. To this day, when a bee flies close, it requires every ounce of willpower I have to remind myself I'm a grown man and running would be embarrassing.

Another quality of Banneker Bones is that he's very wealthy, which comes in handy as I'll need him to have all sorts of gadgets and resources. As he's modeled after Batman (though nowhere near as glum as Banneker's parents are very much alive), I haven't deviated from the formula that he has no superpower apart from cold hard cash. I've always thought of the Bruce Wayne archetype as extremely optimistic. Wouldn't it be nice if the super-rich and affluent devoted their time and considerable resources to improving society and benefiting the least of us the way most of us like to think we would do in the same position?

If I were a different writer, I might be able to ignore the fact that Banneker is a member of the richest 1%, but economics are a passion of mine. On top of the wealth of the Bones family there are robots in Banneker's world, displacing human workers the way automation has been steadily displacing them in the real world. If I currently made my living driving a truck, a cab, or a bus, the emergence of self-driving vehicles would make me very nervous indeed. Younger readers are growing up in a time of complete social revolution, so the issues of Banneker's world are the issues of their world.

I myself am extremely wealthy by world-wide standards (so are you, probably, if you're reading this in North America) and by historical standards, there are kings who haven't lived as extravagantly as I do (I have a PS4, after all). I'm writing this from an air-conditioned home office after breakfast and before lunch. Mrs. Ninja and I have two cars, smart phones, and we've lived into our thirties without contracting a terrible disease. In the lottery of birth, we landed in the United States where we were taught to read and write (no need for this afterword without that), so in the grand scheme of things, we're doing pretty well for ourselves. Like most Americans, we don't appreciate this nearly enough.

For a decade, I've been working various financial consultant positions, so I can also appreciate how many people have a whole lot more money than us and I was working as a stockbroker in 2008 when economics jumped to the forefront of everyone's mind. I read Wall Street news each and every day and during 2008 I became utterly fascinated by how our financial system actually works (not the way we're told in school). It's no coincidence that at this same time I became interested in conspiracy theories, given the vast and sickening conspiracies the actual news was reporting. And when I read these smug banking CEOs explain why it was okay they'd stolen from America and betrayed the country, they frequently referenced the work of an important author and philosopher: Ayn Rand.

So I read some of her books and my blood ran cold. Actually, at first I laughed because surely no one could've taken this poor insane woman seriously. But, of course, many important people had, including such key folks as former Chairman of the Treasury Alan Greenspan. And as I looked at the world around me, suddenly it made sense. Atlas Shrugged is like a decoder ring for understanding the way our present society has formed.

The bottom line for most every major problem in America is someone thinking it's okay to put profit above the well being of others. Sure, soda and processed food companies are poisoning children and weakening the entire country, but they're making a lot of money; sure, trickster bankers destroyed lives and communities, but they made a lot of money; sure, for-profit American prisons have the largest incarceration numbers in the world, but they're making a lot of money, etcetera, ecetera forever. Not every issue boils down to greed, but most do, and so it makes sense that many Americans would champion the work of the philosopher who framed selfishness as a virtue.

Astute Readers may notice there is a character in Banneker Bones and the Giant Robot Bees named Mr. Rand. I assure you, this is a complete coincidence. Although she didn't make the final cut for this first book, in the coming books we'll meet Mr. Rand's dog, Ayn. This name is also a complete coincidence and in no way relevant to the promised economic parables to come in this series--because younger readers love economic parables:)

But not to worry. The thing I love most about The And Then Story is that there's always another adventure ahead. Fun and excitement will always be my first, second, third, fourth, and fifth concern. But I do feel that so long as I have an audience, particularly a young audience, I should make sure that whatever I say to them is worth saying. As they're inheriting this mess America finds itself in, one message I want to proclaim is selfishness is not a virtue and its not okay. We need to rethink our national idea of wealth as it relates to an individual's value and though I don't have any answers, I intend to continue asking the questions in this series.

And that's it, except to talk about Richard Adams. Regular Esteemed Readers know that I interviewed Richard Adams for this blog in 2011 and that I was able to tell him what his book, Watership Down, meant to me. After the interview, I told him Watership Down was actually referenced multiple times in the book I had on submission to publishers and offered to send him a copy. He was so amused by this he offered me the blurb on Banneker's cover (and every other place I could paste it).

I remember the day I got a response from him featuring his blurb as one of the proudest, happiest moments of my writing life. I sent his words to my agent and my wife and then I cried just a little. Only another writer can really understand the pain of spending hours upon hours alone crafting manuscript after manuscript, hoping and praying that someone, somewhere will think you're not crazy, only to be rejected by editors and agents for reasons that don't seem to make any sense. Future writers may not be able to relate ("Wait, you mean writers once had to beg publishing conglomerates to take total control of their lifetime rights in exchange for a pittance and minimal marketing? Really? And writers put up with that!?!"), given that anyone, anywhere can now publish their work.

But the day I got Richard Adams' kind words about my writing, I knew this story would find readers, somehow, someway. There were a lot of protracted discussions with publishers that followed, so many "yes's" followed by "no's" that I prefer not to relive them all here. Through it all, I had Richard Adams' words and the words of the students who read early copies to convince me I wasn't crazy, and one day this story would find readers.

Banneker Bones and the Giant Robot Bees is the fourth book I'm publishing, but it's the reason I published the other ones at all. As much as I love my scary stories, I only published them first so that I could make any newbie mistakes with them. All Together Now was a sacrificial lamb to clear the way for this story, which is the story I've always wanted to tell. As of now, it's available around the world to readers of all ages and it will find them, somehow, someway.

Richard Adams gave me the gift of hope. If it hadn't been for his endorsement, I might've put Banneker back on the shelf and tried traditional publishing again with some other book (possibly with an all-white cast). And I would've always regretted it. Instead, with the confidence that the author of Watership Down thought my book worthy of reading, I did something different.

The version of Banneker Bones and the Giant Robot Bees now available with a brilliant cover by Steven Novak and wonderful illustrations by Adam Smith is the book I dreamed it would be. It's the reason I spent all those years rewriting and reworking it. It's my heart, made print. It's a book I placed on my son's shelf and when he gets old enough to read it, it will be waiting for him.

NINJA STUFF: Story Compromise

I've had a good weekend, Esteemed Reader, and I hope you have to. As I write this it's Writing Day at my place. I'm on my back porch overlooking a river and the woods with sweet, sweet Yanni playing in my ears (screw you for judging me!). The YA Cannibals are inside writing away. Mike Mullin is still standing after we ate his heart last meeting, convincing him to cut some fat from Ashfall 3: Volcano in the Hood so it's a better read when it reaches you. You're welcome. Since we're fresh out of Mike's heart, I'm cooking a ham and the way we drink, by the time it's done, it will be tasty no matter what I do:)

The only thing that can make a good weekend even better is a great book, and I've certainly got that. I'm reading Wool by Hugh Howey and I'm sorry to put the series down long enough to write this as my mind's still in that world. Don't worry. This isn't another post about self-publishing (though more of those may be coming, as it's a trend I find fascinating). I'm just digging Howey's stuff and wanted to mention it in case you haven't read him yet. I read his I, Zombie last year when I was preparing my own zombie tale and fell deeply in love with his writing. 

Today I want to talk about a big difference between books and movies and why as I age, I find I love books more (and I'm a film-school drop out). When I was a teenager, I was convinced I wanted to be a filmmaker more than anything and I spent every weekend at the movie theater. Later, I discovered I liked writing the screenplays more than actually making the movies and I grew out of my teens, so Hollywood stopped targeting me. More, I found collaborating with actors and a film crew led to many great innovations in my storytelling, but also forced me on a regular basis to compromise my vision (I don't like to share my toys).

Now I find I don't like compromise even as the person on the receiving end of the story. Allow me to elaborate:

Last night, as part of my continuing mission to consume all zombie media, I watched World War Z. It was a fine zombie film. Even rated PG-13, which means everyone dies miraculously bloodless deaths, zombies charging the camera in 3D is pretty cool. I love the Max Brooks novel, of course, and I'm not sure what, if anything, the movie has to do with it, but oh well. Big budget zombies blowing stuff up is cool, whatever title it steals, and the book is also cool. I can enjoy both for separate reasons, even with Brad Pitt's hair remaining perfect no matter what happens to him.

In fact, I was quite caught up in the action until the powers that be inserted their influence in the story and unraveled things. I don't want to spoil the flick, but in a key moment, having defeated some tough zombies, Brad Pitt celebrated his victory with a cool, refreshing Pepsi.

Right away I called bull crap. Brad Pitt, with perfect hair, white teeth, and zero body fat, does not guzzle soda. No way. He was Gwyneth Paltrow's man forever ago and I'm sure he adhered to her recipes for water crest with water sauce. He's enjoying his Pepsi (or whatever beverage was actually in that can) in nearly slow motion solely to convince the audience, who statistically, will not look like Brad Pitt, to have some Pepsi.

This is after a critical scene in which Brad accidentally kicks a Mountain Dew can, alerting zombies to his presence, and rolling the green and red corporate logo across the screen in extreme close-up. His moment of refreshment is followed by a key use of Pepsi cans to help save the world, each can falling into screen logo-first in 3D. The Ninja was drinking a bottled water with his popcorn--I gave up soda for good (mostly) when I decided not to poison myself slowly with high-fructose corn syrup, which I promise is the new nicotine--but dang, if I didn't thirst for a Pepsi last night.

Now blowing up stuff is expensive and I accept that filmmakers gotta get the money somewhere. Last weekend I watched Zod and the Man of Steel throw each other through a Sears and an Ihop among other corporate locations, their logos on screen for long periods of time. It was a step-up from the Christopher Reeve Superman movies where Kryptonians stood in front of giant neon coke signs and threw each other through Marlboro trucks. Actually, the Marlboro logo appears prominently in all of the early Superman movies. Back when I smoked, I smoked Marlboro, but I'm sure that decision was completely unrelated to my childhood programming.

Product placement is nothing new and if I keep listing examples, we'll be here all day. Turn on any TV show or movie. If it's got a budget behind it, they're whoring themselves with something. But this isn't a post about how obese Americans don't need to be subliminally sold soft drinks and candy. That's some other day's rant.  Today, I just want to talk about the compromise the filmmaker had to make and the effect it had.

At one moment, I was watching a pretty cool zombie flick with hands getting chopped off and the undead having their heads bashed in--good times. The next moment, I was aware I had paid 13 bucks to watch a commercial. I don't know what the very last shot of World War Z was. I walked out before then because I didn't care anymore. For me, the fictional spell of story was broken, so I missed the finale in which the toothless, diabetes-ridden Coca-cola polar bears mauled the last of the zombies.

I came home and read Wool, which is genuinely amazing. As I read, I was grateful for the difference in the story experience: the author and I were engaging in a communication of ideas between the two of us without  pausing for a word from his sponsor. The author told me his story the way he wanted to tell it without compromise and it was incredible. I was grateful for the experience.

Books are not immune from corporate influence, of course, (I've read Stephen King's magic Kindle story) but its far less prominent. When I read a book, there's still a greater probability of an uncompromising story that isn't a glorified sales pitch.

Ayn Rand may have endorsed a philosophy that cost America her soul, but she poured out her evil little heart for the reader and right or wrong, her works are the stories she wanted to tell. Atlas Shrugged may be at home on a shelf next to Mein Kampf, but it is the artist's vision laid bare for us without the input of bean counters and marketers.

Maybe I'm just cranky because I recently learned Superman and I are the same age (when did I grow up?), but I want to hear an artist's story, not watch them do a song-and-dance in exchange for singles in their g-string. Thank God, books are still a relatively safe place for a pure conversation between writer and reader.

Thoughts? Sound off below. Oh, and just in case you haven't seen it, here's Brad Pitt in the funniest commercial ever because I'm pretty sure he's serious:

NINJA STUFF: E-books Vs. Print Books

Hi there, Esteemed Reader! I saw Man of Steel twice this weekend and it was indeed the glorious experience I've been yearning for all year. Henry Cavil is second only to Christopher Reeve as Superman, and Amy Adams is the best onscreen Lois Lane I've ever seen. Johnathan Kent's fate was lame and silly (what an idiot), the Jesus imagery was overbearing and unnecessary, but the action scenes blew my mind and Superman's super-fights have never been more convincing. There's nothing quite so enjoyable as seeing a favorite story well told. But I don't do movie reviews, so that's where we'll leave it.

I wanted to sound off today with my take on e-books: I love them. I've had an Amazon Kindle for two years now and when I'm forced to read an actual physical printed book, I sort of resent it. I've lugged around the wrist bending Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire before, and I far prefer the Kindle version.

I realize that in the eyes of some of you Esteemed Readers, I am now worse than Hitler for having admitted that:) I know this because I listen to all the panel discussions of editors and publishers I can get my hands on and many of them are focused on this very topic. And almost always the panel concludes that e-books are nice, but printed books are better. I completely disagree.

I get the argument for the printed book, I do. But as someone who just moved and who has acquired 8 full book cases over a life well-lived; as someone who just had to lug those books over no small number of stairs, when my Kindle could've easily held most of them and been carried in a bag with a bunch of other stuff, I'm wondering why more people aren't openly embracing e-books.

My prediction: print will never die completely, but most reading in the future will be of electronic text. Thank goodness! If people didn't read electronic text, this blog would cease to exist. It's going to be a while before all people have access to e-readers, which is what keeps me from seriously considering self-publishing (more on that in a moment). As with everything in the world influenced by Gordon Gecko and Ayn Rand, there is a great disparity between the few people privileged to have e-readers, and the many who have to rely on physical books to learn how to perform self surgeries and other sad things our current economic model of screw-everybody-but-those-at-the-top has brought about.

When the ninja was a wee child, many Supermans ago, my family was the only one I knew with a personal computer my father got (the phone in my pocket is far more powerful) because he was a man named Kent who worked for a newspaper. These many years later, almost no one works for newspapers (the new Lois Lane works at The Daily Planet, but publishes on a blog), and almost everyone has access to a computer, whatever their economic status. I'm friends with a struggling family who have a laptop, but can't afford internet service, which is why I don't worry about them reading this post:)

Mrs. Ninja is fond of proclaiming that physical media is dead, and despite the shelf of VHS tapes in my closet, she's probably right. I've mentioned before I no longer have a television or a video game system. I played Bioshock Infinite by downloading a PC version to my laptop and I'll be watching the final season of Breaking Bad by purchasing commercial-free episodes through Amazon, which I'll watch when it's convenient to me, not at 10:00 on a Sunday night when I have to be up early to write before work.

The nearest book store is a 30-minute drive from me and I live in Indianapolis, not exactly a ghost town. A few years from now, the nearest book store may be an hour away. Most readers have the option of either the one book shelf at Wal-mart, or the library. With an e-reader, you never have to leave your house for a new book, and you never have to be limited by the supply of your local library or increasingly less-local retailer.

E-books are here to stay and the proliferation of e-readers increases, they're only going to become more prominent. As publishers buy up publishers, creating an eventual super publisher with the power to solely determine what will and won't be published, I say the advent of e-readers is the best possible news for writers. We'll talk more about self publishing another post as its something I've started paying a lot more attention to, but for now I just want to say how happy I am that's it an option.

Writers being able to deliver their stories direct to their readers without a publisher's permission will undoubtedly result in some bad books published before they or their author is ready, but traditional publishing has often resulted in the same. I'm glad I got to read Lynne Reid Bank's The Wrongly-Coulored Dragon and Joni Sensel's 3rd in The Farwalker Trilogy, and if traditional publishing were the only game in town, those books might still be on their author's shelves.

Given that the Ninja routinely interviews literary agents and editors (the path to traditional publishing), and that my review policy specifically forbids self-published books for Book of the Week consideration, all of this is revolutionary thinking for me. An old critique partner of mine, Susan Kaye Quinn, started her blog at the same I started this one. She went the self-publishing route and has far more readers than I do and wonderful books you can and should read right now, right this moment. The Ninja has a collection of manuscripts you may one day get to read.

In conclusion, Man of Steel was seriously mind-blowing:) If you've always wanted to see Superman punch a dude from one side of Metropolis to the other (who wouldn't want to see that?), you need to get to the theater and help get the grosses up so I can one day bask in the joy of a sequel.

And if you have your own thoughts about e-books and/or modern self publishing, please sound off in the comments below.

NINJA STUFF: How I Met my Agent (Part Two)

THIS WEEK IN NINJA-ING: Things are going to be slowing down a bit from here on out. I'm taking a short break from Book of the Week reviews, which means I'm also taking a break from author interviews. Why?

I've got a great idea for a new book and it's time for me to roll up my sleeves  And I've only got until the end of the year to finish it as that's when a little ninja is due to enter our lives (more to follow, I'm sure). This month we're moving and I've got a conference to attend all while taking on new responsibilities at my day job.

My priorities are shifting a bit, but don't you worry, Esteemed Reader. I'll still be here and I've still got some great interviews to share. We're just going to have to value quality over quantity and do more with fewer posts:)

Wednesday we're discussing Chapter 10 of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, and Thursday we'll be joined by a surprise literary agent. 


Last time on Ninja Stuff: I revealed my literary agent is none other than Dr. Uwe Stender after he revealed it two weeks before in his guest post:) And I discussed what makes our "marriage" a great professional relationship in hopes of helping you think of who you might want to be your agent, Esteemed Reader.


And now, the thrilling conclusion...



Marriage is an extremely odd metaphor for the relationship between I and Dr. Uwe Stender. But as I said last week, marriage is the most commonly used metaphor for the writer/agent relationship and it's not entirely off base.

Today I'm going to tell you how I met my agent and the only similar experience to compare it to I can think of is meeting Mrs. Ninja. And after all, as I've entrusted Uwe with the submission of my writing, the only person I trust with a bigger piece of my heart is my wife. 

And make no mistake: I write with my whole heart. Every time a manuscript of mine goes on submission, it's like sending a child into the world, and Uwe is the only one I trust with the care of my heart's children.

The Ninja loves the ladies and I also like literary agents--that's why I continue to interview them every week even though I've already got my dream agent. I want you to find your dream agent, Esteemed Reader, because it's so awesome. These days the Ninja frequently stays home on a Friday night and plays 3DS instead of heading out to the clubs to meet the ladies and I write only one query for my newest manuscript, but it wasn't always the case. I used to be like all you loveless singles out there:)

Most of the advice I would give to a writer seeking literary representation is the same sort of advice I would give to someone seeking a marriage partner. You aren't going to find a partner playing 3DS at home (that comes later). You have to get out there, and the same is true for finding a literary agent. You can learn a lot about agents online through sites like this one, and even better yet, Literary Rambles. But ideally, you want to meet agents in person.

Don't tell me you can't. The Ninja lives in Nowhere, Indiana, and next month I'll be attending a conference with our old friends Linda Pratt and Kathi Apelt (I'll be writing more about it soon enough). I met Joanna Volpe at a conference here in Nowhere, Indiana years ago when she'd just become an agent and I'd just started this blog and we've been friends since (and she's given me some invaluable advice). Mary Kole has discussed my manuscript with me in person here in Nowhere, Indiana, as have Suzie Townsend and Amy Boggs. 

A good portion of the interviews I've amassed here are the result of meeting people at conferences. If you take nothing else from this post, take this: get out of your writing area and meet others. Agents and writers go to these conferences to meet other writers--be one of those writers they meet. And don't be this guy.

Uwe Stender was not the first or the only agent to offer me representation. I'm no Roald Dahl, however much I may want to be, but I've been at my craft for years and I've worked hard to create sell-able manuscripts. Put in your time, Esteemed Reader, learn your craft, and you'll get there, probably faster than I did. 

Fight through the initial bumps and eventually the "Dear Author" rejections become personal notes, some even offering revision suggestions (gold). I nearly cried when I got a personal note from an editor at Esquire telling me "I loved your story, but it's far too dirty for us." I didn't always write Middle Grade:)

Before I met Mrs. Ninja, I kissed some other girls (shocking, I know), and I proposed marriage to another (one of Mrs. Ninja's favorite stories). That lady went on to live a life very, very different than mine and I'm grateful every time I have occasion to think of her (not often) that we broke it off because I hadn't met Mrs Ninja. I didn't even know what love was until I met the right one. The first time Mrs. Ninja and I went out together, we didn't want to separate because when it's right, you can feel that rightness as an invisible force like gravity or magnetism. 

There was an agent I nearly signed with I've since come to be glad I didn't. The publishing world is a very small place and stories travel. Another agent seemed like the perfect fit as her stated "ideal story" was more or less my manuscript and I was certain we were meant to be... until I read lengthy articles she'd written on her love of my life-long enemy, Ayn Rand (Nooooo!!!!! Damn you, Rand!!!!). 

I met Uwe Stender at the Midwest Writer's Conference. It's by far one of my favorite memories because a lot of great stuff happened that weekend, like me hanging out with Marcus Sakey and Candace Fleming, two very awesome writers. The first night of the conference, during a meet-the-professionals session, I spotted Uwe Stender sitting alone at a table. It never ceases to amaze me how timid so many writers are and I never understand why so many come to conferences and then spend the weekend talking to the people they came with--why not just stay home and save money?

So I sat with Uwe. At the time, he wasn't looking for middle grade or young adult, and he told me that, so I relaxed. He was a rejection before I queried, but I still wanted to get him to face the 7 Questions. He showed me his email inbox and the queries he received--even rejecting a couple as we were talking! I learned more about the publishing world in that one conversation than I'd ever learned by reading books or blogs. And because I wasn't using my questions as a segue to my manuscript (don't act like you haven't done it), I was able to have an honest conversation.

Uwe and I laughed a lot and when I went home that night I remember telling Mrs. Ninja it was too bad that nice guy Uwe Stender wasn't looking for middle grade as he was my favorite person at the conference. Over the next two days of the conference I sat in on Uwe's sessions and talked with him more, never about me so much as about books and publishing. But I was focused on chatting with the agents looking for middle grade. I even remember being annoyed when he came over to talk with me as I was chatting up another agent and ham-handedly segueing to my brilliant writing. I think you call that book block:)

At the end of the conference, Uwe and I shook hands and I told him I hoped I'd see him at another conference because I just wanted to be his friend. He's a cool dude and refreshingly honest and direct. He told me to go ahead and send him a query and I figured "why not?" I got my interview for the blog and moved on to seeking other agents.

A short time later I got the rejection I anticipated, but you should always, always read the entire rejection. Uwe had written how much he liked the book, but wanted some important revisions I later made. At the end of his rejection, Uwe asked if I had any other projects, which I took to be a huge compliment. And Esteemed Reader, I always have other projects so I sent him one. 

In the meantime, the local economy tanked and the company I worked for decided to start firing employees for trumped up reasons rather than holding an honest lay-off. I watched all my friends get fired and then they came for me. The very day I had to come home and tell Mrs. Ninja I was going to have to quit to avoid being fired, I had an email from Uwe I nearly deleted without reading as I was in no mood for a rejection.

I so admire hard-line thinking like that of Richard Dawkins, Esteemed Reader, but I've seen too many strange signs and wonders in this short life of mine not to believe in something greater lurking behind the veil. Sooner or later I'll tell you about the others, but Uwe's email that day and phone call the next day helped me maintain sanity and gave me my biggest win when I most needed it. 

Uwe was more excited about my writing than I was at the time and our conversation the afternoon after the morning I'd left my office with a box of my personal belongings was surreal. Imagine, if you will, the deepest, most German voice ever saying to you "I love your story about the little girl. It made me cry." I had to put the phone down briefly to laugh. 

I've had other people say nice things about my writing before (it keeps me going), but I'd never heard someone so enthusiastic and excited about it. Uwe convinced me I would never find a greater ally for my work. More, I felt another version of that invisible "force of rightness" I don't feel often, but never ignore when I do (I seriously need to monitor my flakiness before I end up with magic crystals and chicken's blood in my writing area), and I made my decision to break off talks with other agents and sign with Uwe. 

How I wish I could tell you I signed with my agent and lived happily ever after, but it doesn't work like that. Having an agent doesn't stop editors rejecting you. But having Uwe in my corner has got me some amazing opportunities. And after a particularly close call, Uwe was more upset then I was and I felt I had to cheer him up:) Keep an eye on this blog, Esteemed Reader. Sooner or later you'll see a link appear to where you can buy my book. I believe that because Uwe Stender believes it and I believe in Uwe Stender.

And that's where we'll leave it. I hope you dug this story and maybe even found it useful. If not, I'll have another literary agent here for you on Thursday:)

NINJA STUFF: Does Anybody Really Care About the Oscars?

Hello there, Esteemed Reader. Are you worn out from watching the Oscars broadcast last night? Not me. I haven't watched the Academy Awards since they snubbed The Dark Knight. That was the year I decided it didn't really matter what movie won Best Picture. I still haven't seen The Artist and I'm getting by just fine. I have seen Bait, an important 3d depiction of what might happen if a group of brave tsunami survivors were trapped in a grocery store with great white sharks. In my heart, I know I've made the right viewing choice:)

When I was a kid the Oscars were a magical night. I looked forward to seeing the stars shine and I used to practice my own Best Screenplay speech in the shower. But as an adult I'm aware of two things: 1. I'm probably not destined to win an Oscar (I'm pretty sure you have to make a movie of some kind to win) and 2. I don't care about a bunch of overpaid, over-pampered celebrities handing each other gold statues and congratulating each other on being masters of the universe. 

Perhaps the Ninja has grown old and cynical, but I no longer believe just anyone can grow up to be President--you have to be vetted and approved by our corporate overlords and agree to do their bidding, or else get taken out by the man on the grassy knoll. I'm more interested in regular people than celebrities. When 1% of the population controls over 40% of the wealth and one in four Americans are below the poverty line, maybe it's time to stop celebrating the rich and famous as though they're the only ones that matter.

How about a big time awards show for best teacher? Or maybe best fire fighter or best soldier? Yes, Ben Affleck has overcome some terrible acting gigs and become a fine director, but I bet a ton of money and support from powerful friends helped out in that regard. Is his accomplishment really worth the amount of hoopla bestowed upon it in light of the accomplishments of non-famous Americans? 

Argo is a fine flick, Django Unchained is a better one, and at the end of the day does it really matter which one is "best?" Gandhi won best picture in 1982, but how many people honestly believe it's a better movie than E.T. The Extra Terrestrial? Not even director Richard Attenborough believed that and he made it clear, or he might not have landed the role of John Hammond in Spielberg's Jurassic Park. I say watch whatever you like and pick your own best.

The Academy Awards are an advertisement for Hollywood, and that's all good and well, but I have better things to do than watch an infomercial designed to sell me movies I probably wouldn't care to watch and the importance of people who aren't really that important. Mel Gibson is an academy award winner. How's that working out for him?

If you're wondering as I often do if there's any hope for regular Americans in a world controlled by the powerful elite, Americans who kinda, sorta still believe they're living in a democratic republic rather than a plutocracy, the answer is I don't know. But I do know if we're ever going to change things in our society, we're going to have to change our values.

So long as we pour our money and time and efforts into celebrating movie stars and athletes rather than scientists and philosophers, so long as we focus our attention on the fluff rather than the substance, bankers will continue to rob our grandchildren of their birthright with impunity and our civil liberties will continue to be stripped away in the name of fighting terrorism until we wake up in a police state. 

Or maybe I just need to lighten up and accept that not everyone feels Batman deserves an Oscar:)

It's going to be a short week, Esteemed Reader. I'm up against the wall on a revision deadline and I have two critiques to deliver by the end of the week, so I haven't had time to write a Book of the Week review. We'll still be discussing chapter two from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire on Wednesday and we'll have a surprise literary agent on Saturday, but I'm going to have to take the rest of the week off to get caught up. My apologies to the authors waiting patiently for me to post their interviews. 

Speaking of the rich being the only ones who matter, I couldn't help but notice the Academy overlooked this gem:

It makes me cry tears of laughter. How was this book ever taken seriously by anyone?

NINJA STUFF: Thoughts On Blogging

THIS WEEK IN NINJA-ING: Tuesday's Book of the Week is The Shadows: Books of Elsewhere Volume 1, Wednesday we're discussing Chapter 1 of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, and Thursday author Jacqueline West will face the 7 Questions. Saturday, as ever, we'll be joined by a surprise literary agent. 

A few posts back, I wrote a little about blogging and some of you Esteemed Readers sent comments and emails asking me to post more about blogging. My motto is "if Esteemed Reader wants something, I'll do my best to do that thing (within reason)."

I've not written much about blogging here for two reasons: 1. Our focus is writing and reading books. 2. I'm no expert, which, if you're a regular Esteemed Reader, you already know:)

The reason this blog is anything is due to the authors, literary agents, and editors who've been kind enough to appear here. There are plenty of better, more organized, and certainly more popular blogs and sites out there--you could be reading them right now:)

That being said, I do have some blog experience under my belt now and this site does have a following, however humble. So I'll briefly give you some of my thoughts on blogging, then I'm going to shut up and let the experts talk.

In a lot of ways, this blog has been my writer's journal I just happen to have shared with the world. No one loves this blog more than me and I doubt anyone finds it more useful than I do, because I designed it with me in mind:)

Every interview posted here was an interview I wanted to read facing the 7 Questions I wanted answers to. Every book I've reviewed I did because I thought it would enhance my own knowledge of being a writer. I reread these interviews and follow the links in them to keep tabs on these writers and see what they're up to.

I agree with Ayn Rand to a point (the devil's best lies are based in truth) that there is some virtue in selfishness. I've always believed the best way to write a story is to write the one you most want to read.

I've written bad things before. When Esteemed Reader looks at me with those big puppy dog eyes, a single tear on her cheek, and whispers, "Why, Mr. Ninja? Why did you make it suck?" the only reply I can make that gives me any peace is "I'm sorry, Esteemed Reader. I honestly thought you'd like it because I did."

So that's my first tip: Write what you love and blog what you love. Blogging takes time and effort like writing and if the subject you're blogging about doesn't interest you, you either need to be getting enough benefit (usually monetary) doing it to offset your aversion, or you won't stick with it. I've not made a dime since this blog started, but the knowledge I've gained and the connections I've made have been a reward far more valuable than money.

My second tip for bloggers is the same advice I'd give to writers: if you want to do it, do it. Never mind you're not smart enough, good enough, etc. Do it badly until you learn to do it well.

My first short stories were often not good, but I kept writing them, reading the work of others, and seeking advice and criticism until they've gotten significantly better. There's no way for me to ever objectively judge my writing, but I try to be my sharpest critic as well as my first fan, and the negativist in me concedes that my more recent manuscripts have at least been formatted properly and spell checked, unlike my earlier efforts.

A writer/blogger can be a lot of things, but timid can't be one of them. To write for reader consumption is to put yourself under the microscope. Readers will make judgments about you, fair or not, and as you are not perfect, you will screw up. Over the course of writing this blog, I've put my foot in my mouth, I've been embarrassed in front of writers and publishing professionals, and I'm quite certain I've occasionally come off like a jerk.

Well, if you don't want to risk the likelihood of some failure, stay home. Never do anything and there's little chance of anything happening to you.

For all the times I've written overly long posts and humiliated myself with spelling errors and obvious grammar mistakes, or gone long periods without posting, thereby hurting my readership, I like to think I've said some good stuff and there are multiple posts I'm proud of. I've taken my first steps and fallen down in my journey as a blogger out where everyone can see me. Fortunately, most people don't care:)

There's a reason I address you in every post as Esteemed Reader as opposed to Constant Reader, a moniker I've always found to be a tad presumptuous, even when the presumption is made by the world's best-selling novelist. I call you Esteemed Reader to remind me always that you're out there and what I do, I do to find you, because you're what it's all about.

And also, you're out there.

My third and final tip for bloggers is be as educated as you can be. Just because you've never done a thing doesn't mean no one else has. Read other blogs, listen to the advice of successful people who've gone before you, and learn everything you can. Sort through as much knowledge as you can get your hands on and decide what advice works for you and what doesn't.

To that end, I'll shut up now and finish by leaving you with a lists of resources for bloggers written by far greater experts than me. These are sites I've read and found helpful. Some of them may contain foul language and other malodorous content. The internet is a weird, scary place sometimes, so you watch yourself out there, Esteemed Reader. But I'll do my best to point you in the right direction:

Stuff I found useful:

If you haven't read it already, here is Casey McCormick and Natalie Aguirre's wonderful and incredibly useful blog for writers, Literary Rambles. This is the blog I wanted to emulate early on and where I did most of my agent hunting.

And here are some other links teeming with blogging resources:

 www.spiceupyourblog.com

www.blogtrepreneur.com

www.way2blogging.org 

www.bloggersentral.com

blogging.nitecruzr.net  

www.mybloggertricks.com 

www.bloggerzbible.com 

blog.kissmetrics.com

Book of the Week: WATERSHIP DOWN by Richard Adams

I’m so excited, Esteemed Reader, because this week I get to share with you one of my most favorite books of all time. I’m not sure if I could ever possibly pick an absolute favorite book, but if I did, Watership Down would surely be a strong contender for the top spot. And that pretty well concludes my review: I love Watership Down. If you haven’t read it, stop what you’re doing and read it now. If you have read it, it’s probably been a while and you need to read it again. I've read this book at least ten times and I have it on audio book to entertain me while I sweat at the gym.

I know what you’re thinking, Esteemed Reader. Classic middle grade? That means we won’t have an interview with an author this week. But that’s where you’re wrong! Richard Adams will be here at this very blog this Thursday to face the 7 Questions. So for goodness sake, be back here Thursday, wear a nice shirt, comb your hair, and make sure there’s nothing in your teeth.

I've got to tell you, starting this blog and declaring myself a ninja has to be one of the smartest things I've ever done aside from marrying Mrs. Ninja. It’s opened all sorts of doors for me and put me in contact with some amazing people, including you, Esteemed Reader. I’ve been thrilled to chat with every author we've had here and I've enjoyed chatting with literary agents as well. But Richard Adams is my hero and receiving his email has been one of the most exciting experiences of my life.

You know how sometimes you read a book that’s just so amazing you want to find its author and tell them everything their book meant to you? For most readers, this is perhaps just a thought, but it’s something I get to do on a pretty regular basis. And now I've had the chance to tell Richard Adams how much his work has inspired me and how it’s the measuring stick I use against my own work. I even sent him an excerpt of my current manuscript as Watership Down is the favorite book of my protagonist and a bully threatening to rip out its pages incites him in a pivotal scene. I’m not certain if Mr. Adams enjoyed the scene, but I certainly enjoyed sharing it with him.

I’m going to get to the meat and potatoes of discussing this book in a moment, but I want to share with you the circumstances under which I first read Watership Down. I didn’t read it as a child and that’s too bad for me. Three years ago, after a particularly nasty ice storm, I slipped in a parking lot late at night  and lost consciousness. When I came to, I was in bad shape, but I drove home, took some Tylenol and went to bed (bad idea, but it’s what I did to avoid the bankrupting cost of American health care). I even got up the next day and went to work, though I couldn’t hear and I could barely walk. I figured it would pass.

It didn't pass. My boss sent me to the hospital and it was a good thing she did. A cat scan revealed I had cracked my skull and bruised my brain. For three days I was under close observation and throwing up pretty much all the time. The doctor told me and a far more distraught Mrs. Ninja (then girlfriend Ninja) that we would have to wait and see when the swelling stopped how much of my cognitive function would remain. It’s a terrible thing to sit and wait to find out if the thoughts you’re thinking are the last clear thoughts you’re ever going to have.

I assure you, if I had been up to it, I would have spent that time finishing the novel I was working on as to die, or worse, go vegetable with an unfinished manuscript is a great fear of mine. But I wasn’t up to it, so I read instead. Oh, I told my girlfriend and my family I loved them and comforted them as much as I could, but I was there for three days and that’s a long time to go without a book. Mrs. Ninja understood and she bought me a copy of Watership Down.

As I read Watership Down, I knew it was perhaps the last book I would ever be able to read, and I was okay with it. It would have been a great book to go out on. I’ll stop with the melodrama as it came out all right. My balance has never been the same and I have some slight hearing loss, but all things considered, I got off quite lucky. I even finished that silly manuscript I was working on and have since written a better one and as you know from reading this blog, I have read many fine books since.

But never before had the power of a great book been made clearer to me. Richard Adams took me out of that place and away from my worries, which were considerable. I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but he did. I forgot about the nurses and the doctors and all the dreadful possible outcomes I was facing and was transported to the world of Hazel and Fiver and Bigwig and the wonderful rabbits of Watership Down. I forgot my own concerns and focused on my concern for those brave rabbits and their struggle.

For those three anxious days, I was not at the hospital. I was in England in a warren. Never before had I so badly needed to be swept away and Watership Down did that for me. And in my more cynical moments when I’m convinced no one reads anymore and we writers are a relic unaware that our time has passed, I remember that experience and know that literature is as important and powerful as it ever was. I don’t care that most Americans watch reality television instead of reading (well, I do, but what can be done?). I need great books in my life and as you’re reading this blog (possibly while watching The Real Housewives of Atlanta), I can’t be the only one.

I almost don’t want to tell you about Watership Down. It’s an amazing experience that every reader should have at least once and if I tell you about it before hand, it may diminish it somewhat. How some readers feel about Lord of the Rings (I never did care much for all the eating and singing those hobbits did), how my mother felt about Gone With the Wind, how Stephen King fans feel about The Dark Tower (which contains multiple references to the work of Richard Adams)—that’s how I feel about Watership Down. I love it as much as I love Batman, and if you read the blog regularly, you know that’s a lot:) So I’ll repeat: if you haven’t read Watership Down, stop reading this review and go read it. For those of you who have read it, I have a job to do and it’s time for me to get to it:

Watership Down is the story of a group of misfit rabbits who leave their warren when they learn, courtesy of a psychic revelation, that their home will soon be destroyed. Fiver is the high-strung rabbit who has the revelation and he has many more before the novel is done, all of them useful. And why not? Humans have these intuitive revelations all the time. Don’t believe me? Then why is it that airline reservation cancelations consistently go up ahead of a crash? I myself have had a few odd moments that caused me to alter my path and as a result, I avoided catastrophe (didn’t happen when I was walking in that parking lot, though). These odd moments are the subject of another, kookier post, but I’ll bet many of you Esteemed Readers, if you’re honest, could tell me stories of having similar moments of intuition.

Fiver convinces his buddy Hazel that they need to get out of town. First, the two try to convince their chief rabbit that the sky is falling. They are not taken seriously, of course, and in the end only a few rabbits high-tail it out of there, all of them boys—which turns out to be a real problem later. The rabbits rough it for a bit, attempt to join another warren, visit another, and eventually decide to start their own. But, of course, if their warren is going to last more than the current generation, our heroes are going to need some girls. The second half of the novel is some dude rabbits on a quest to get some chicks—what tale could be more universal than that?

And that’s the plot of Watership Down. Our protagonists have a clear goal and it’s one readers will relate to: they are on a quest for a sustainable life where they can be free of death and harm. There is considerable opposition on all sides. After all, these are rabbits and there are farmers and foxes and trains and birds on all sides—everybody wants to kill these poor rabbits. At times, the oppositions seems insurmountable and that is the key to what makes Watership Down so very readable. Incredible opposition facing scrappy heroes that will do anything to achieve their universal goal. Write that formula down. If you want to have a hope of writing a novel with even a fraction of the longevity of Watership Down, and I do, I do—that’s how it’s done.

Adams never lets up on these rabbits. They are always being chased or imprisoned or otherwise threatened and I assure you the pages will turn themselves. Thug life? Try Bunny life. This is my favorite thing about Watership Down: it is first and foremost a good story well crafted. Adams gives us lovable characters we can relate to and then shoves them in harm’s way repeatedly. This probably isn’t what makes Watership Down a classic, and in a moment I’m going to talk about theme and metaphor and all that other stuff your English teacher lives for. But notice, all of that is secondary and readers only invest time considering it because their primary need for a good story has first been met.

The thing about Adams’ rabbits is that they are truly rabbits. These aren’t Disney characters who drive in cars, or watch television. They are rabbits and their world is the world of a rabbit. Their concerns are food, shelter, mating, and avoiding harm—which are the primary concerns of humans, no matter how much we like to otherwise trump up the importance of our actions. Every simile Adams employs is a simile from nature. Here’s one of my favorites:

He pretended to go back, but suddenly turned, rushed upon the shadows and plunged into the nearest hole faster than a raindrop into the ground.

Adams would never write “he leaped into the hole like a car whipping into a garage,” partly because that’s a terrible simile, but mostly because rabbits have no knowledge of cars or garages. The rabbits’ thinking is entirely grounded in their world, and therefore the narration is as well. The rabbits have names like Blackberry, Dandelion, Cowslip, and even Prince Rainbow. You won’t ever encounter a rabbit in Watership Down named Milkshake, or Lucky Penny, or Toilet Paper (too bad).

The one conceit of Watership Down is that Adams’ rabbits, though rabbits in every other respect, have the ability to think, reason, and communicate like humans. To be fair, given that they have this ability, it’s a wonder they haven’t developed air conditioned warrens or rabbit cars to drive into rabbit garages—but I’m making too much of this. After all, it’s just a story, and if the rabbits were not human-like in their reasoning, we would not find them relatable characters over such a long novel. Humans are deeply narcissistic and we want to read about humans even when we’re reading about rabbits.

The difference then is that Adams’ rabbits think and reason in rabbit terms. For example:

The kind of ideas that have become natural to many male human beings in thinking of females—ideas of protection, fidelity, romantic love and so on—are, of course, unknown to rabbits, although rabbits certainly do form exclusive attachments much more frequently than most people realize. However, they are not romantic and it came naturally to Hazel and Holly to consider the two Nuthanger does simply as breeding stock for the warren. This was what they had risked their lives for.

Don’t worry. The female rabbits think of themselves this way also and they’re cool with it. Before you start shouting about sexism, Esteemed Reader, two things: 1. These are rabbits, dude, not people, so chill 2. Although the first half of the book is boy heavy, there are some very strong-willed girl rabbits in the second half every bit as capable as the boys at many things, and better than them at other things (such as cooking and cleaning—I kid, I kid, and Mrs. Ninja just smacked me in the back of the head, which forced me to remind her of my gravely serious brain injury).

All right. This is clearly the longest review ever, so I want to talk about three more things and then we’ll call it a day. First, although it is perhaps unfortunate that the rabbits have done away with romantic love, it opens up the possibility of greater love. The rabbits love and fight for each other. They do not want does for themselves alone, though they will fight over them if there are not enough to go around. They want the does for the good of the warren. Everything the rabbits do they do for each other and they are stronger for it. Their warren reminds me of a hive in Heinlein’s Stranger in a Strange Land, and I yearn for this sort of community in humanity.

Second, the main theme of Watership Down is a stroke of genius. The real story here is of the contrast between the different warrens the rabbits visit. In each instance, we are presented differently constructed communities, their strengths, and their weaknesses. What sets our heroes apart is the manner in which they will construct their community differently than these flawed societies. I will not speculate that these warrens are really metaphors for some known human society. Some may think that the final, mean and nasty warren the rabbits visit is a rabbit stand in for Hitler’s Germany or Stalin’s Russia, but I don’t. I think the different warrens are simply communities of rabbits with qualities similar to the worst human societies. Oddly, there is no capitalism-gone-mad society of rabbits, perhaps because rabbits are far too clever to ever take serious the silly writings of Ayn Rand.

For me, the most interesting warren is the second the rabbits visit. The rabbits of this warren are eager for more rabbits to join because they are living a lie. They live in a nice garden with plenty of fresh veggies and free from predators because they are protected by a human farmer. The catch is that the farmer buries wire snares all around because he is also farming rabbits. The rabbits of this warren accept that a few of them will die every year so that the rest can live in utopia (paging Lois Lowry), and they are eager to welcome new rabbits because the more rabbits there are, the better the odds on not getting snared. Here is what the prophet Fiver has to say about these rabbits:

Don’t you see? The farmer only sets so many snares at a time, and if one rabbit dies, the others will live that much longer. You suggested that Hazel should tell them our adventures, Blackberry, but it didn’t go down well, did it? Who wants to hear about brave deeds when he’s ashamed of his own, and who likes an open, honest tale from someone he’s deceiving? Do you want me to go on? I tell you, every single thing that’s happened fits like a bee in a foxglove. And kill them, you say, and help ourselves to the great burrow? We shall help ourselves to a roof of bones, hung with shining wires! Help ourselves to misery and death!

Third, I must comment on the ending, though I’ll try not to spoil it. In the final act, Adams hits us with a Deus Ex Machina, which we know from dutifully reading our Aristotle is a major no-no. A key rabbit character is saved at the last minute by a human stepping in to help out. She is a god descending on the battlefield at the last second to make everything all right. This is this sort of shenanigan that ruins lesser works, but Adams gets away with it because his god from the machine does not resolve all of the conflict or even the most pressing conflict. Also, the poor rabbits go through so much hell for most of the novel, that in this particular instance the reader is likely to be okay with our hero getting one free lunch.

I lied! There’s a fourth thing, and then I really am done: Watership Down is an honest book, which is probably why it’s been banned so often. I hope to one day write a book so effective it gets banned:) I said before that these rabbits are not Disney characters. Their world is real, and the real world is often a nasty, violent place, especially for rabbits. Adams is not willfully nasty, but he tells the truth and as always, the truth is somewhat unpleasant. For this reason, Watership Down is probably not appropriate for very young readers (although, neither is the world). However, Watership Down started life as a story Richard Adams told to his two young daughters on a long drive and I can’t imagine the violence, or even the implied rape in this story, is any worse than what children have been exposed to already and certainly no worse than what they will be exposed to as they grow up.

Whew. This may be my longest review ever and it is done. Make sure you come back on Thursday when Richard Adams, oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, is going to be here to face the 7 Questions. And come again on Saturday for an interview with a surprise literary agent. And now, as always I leave you with a few of my most favorite passages from one of my most favorite books, Watership Down:

They climbed not over but through the sun-red grass, among the awakened insect movement and the light ablaze. The grass undulated about them. They peered over anthills and looked cautiously round clumps of teazle.


“It all comes from men,” said Holly. “All other elil do what they have to do and Frith moves them as he moves us. They live on earth and they need food. Men will never rest till they’ve spoiled the earth and destroyed the animals. But I’d better go on with this tale of mine.”


Hazel’s anxiety and the reason for it were soon known to all the rabbits and there was not one who did not realize what they were up against. There was nothing very startling in what he had said. He was simply the one—as a Chief Rabbit ought to be—through whom a strong feeling, latent throughout the warren, had come to the surface.


“Well, I can’t quite make out,” answered Bigwig. “But if I understand him properly—and I’m not at all sure that I do—he says that where he comes from there are thousands of his kind—more than we can possibly imagine. Their flocks make the whole air white and in the breeding season their nests are like leaves in a wood—so he says.”

STANDARD DISCLAIMER: Book of the Week is simply the best book I happened to read in a given week. There are likely other books as good or better that I just didn’t happen to read that week. Also, all reviews here will be written to highlight a book’s positive qualities. It is my policy that if I don’t have something nice to say online, I won’t say anything at all (usually). I’ll leave you to discover the negative qualities of each week’s book on your own.

This Aggression Will Not Stand, Rand

You faithful readers know about the complex relationship I have with the writings of Ayn Rand. She fascinates me because she had the capacity to do such amazing writing and she used it for the purposes of pure evil. Perhaps we should blame her muse, Satan, whose lies about the virtue of selfishness are the foundation of Objectivism, a pseudo philosophy that boiled down states: do whatever you want to do however you want to do it so long as you make money and if others don’t like it, it’s because they’re too weak to do the same and poor and stupid and they smell bad.

If there’s anything this country needs more than ever just now, it’s a film that reminds us that wealthy people are better and wiser than we are and we should be grateful that they hoard all the money. We’d just spend it wrong anyway where as they, great gods who hold us all upon their backs, will create industry and jobs (overseas, it’s true, but who are we to question the powerful). After  viewing the upcoming film version of Atlas Shrugged, I imagine the people of this country will unite and in a resounding voice cry: “The richest 10% only control 50% of the total income! This is an outrage! How can we do our part to make sure they control at least 80%? Sell them our government? No, we already did that. Perhaps we should lose our healthcare and our public services and our homes in record numbers.”

Me, I think Atlas Shrugged is the sad little fantasy of a deranged soul. I like to imagine a sad and bitter Ayn Rand sitting alone, imagining a place where everyone recognizes that she’s so much better than the rest of us and that if she wants a thing, it is made virtuous by her wanting it. Wouldn’t it be swell if John Galt and she and other rich people who think she’s cool had their own place away from the common rabble (you and me) so that we could destroy ourselves, which we surely would without wise Ayn Rand to guide us. The only thing to complete the fantasy is an alpha male with an angular face to smack her around now and again. And that, in a nutshell, is the story of Atlas Shrugged.

The movie version stars no one you’ve ever heard of and has the budget of a cable film. I expect it will fail big time as the richest ten percent just isn’t enough audience to create much of a box-office return. I have no intention of paying to see it, though I may “loot” it by watching it on cable someday. Don’t you pay to see it either, Esteemed Reader. Ayn Rand is on her way to joining Karl Marx in the dustbin of historical philosophies people thought were a good idea at the time, but in retrospect seem a bit short-sighted. If this movie does well, that inevitable trip will be delayed.

Still, I like to imagine rich people getting excited for the movie. After all, this is their Passion of the Christ. I like to imagine personal assistants camped out in front of a posh movie theater for weeks before hand to buy tickets to the midnight show. I like to imagine CEO’s and hedge fund owners arriving on the big night dressed in costume: “Who are you?” “I’m John Galt.” “Oh, how droll, because I asked—” “Yes, I know, and who are you?” “I am also John Galt.” “Splendid! Who are we, then!” Uproarious laughter. “Say, Alan Greenspan, old boy! I hardly recognized you in your Dagny Taggart costume!”

And now, won’t you join me in shaking your head and laughing at this ridiculous movie trailer (careful, it contains the “d-word”):

Book of the Week: SAVVY by Ingrid Law

Did you have a nice Thanksgiving, Esteemed Reader? Are you worn out from Black Friday shopping? Not me. I avoid stores at all costs on Black Friday, which means I miss out on amazing bargains, but am less likely to be trampled to death by folks trying to reach toasters at half off. The Ninja is willing to pay full price for his toaster and considers the extra money spent to be purchasing the right not to have to shop among the insane hordes.

This week we’re back in business to discuss Savvy, one of my new favorite middle grade novels, and Thursday one of my new favorite authors Ingrid Law will be here to face the 7 Questions (yea!). And Saturday we’ll have a surprise literary agent drop by to see us.

I’ve got a lot to say about Savvy and there’s no way we’re going to get through it all. I highlighted so many passages to share with you that if I reproduced them all, you probably wouldn’t need to read the book. So we’ll dispense with the review early: Savvy is a fantastic read and should be enjoyed by anyone who likes middle grade fiction, and I assume that’s you, Esteemed Reader, or you wouldn’t be here. There’s a reason it was recognized by the Newberry and has become a best-seller, and if you’re a writer hoping to duplicate Savvy’s level of success, you need to read this book. You also need to tune in on Thursday to read Ingrid Law’s advice to writers.

Here is one of the finest opening lines in a book for adults or children I have ever read:  

When my brother Fish turned thirteen, we moved to the deepest part of inland because of the hurricane and, of course, the fact that he’d caused it.

It would take a tremendous dullard not to want to read beyond that first sentence to find out just how a thirteen-year-old boy is capable of causing a hurricane. And by the time you get far enough along to find that out, Law’s got her hooks into you and you will finish the book.

There’s not a chapter in Savvy that ends without leaving an unanswered question in the reader’s mind or otherwise builds expectation in the reader about coming events. The reader is like Al Pacino in The Godfather Part III: Every time he thinks he’s out, Law pulls him back in. That’s sort of an odd reference to drop in a blog about children’s books, but I’m just going to go with it.

There’s something different about the Beaumont family, our narrator, twelve-going-on-thirteen Mississippi Beaumont tells us. On their thirteenth birthday, a Beaumont child discovers their “savvy,” which is actually an old slave word I don’t know the meaning of and am too lazy to Google, but in the context of this story it means “mutant super power,” like the ability to control electricity (or grow andamantium claws). Fish is a non-Haley-Berry Storm and that’s why he caused the hurricane.

I wish I could tell you that all of this super-power having led to a galatic battle between heroes, but that’s another story. Here, the powers, or savvy’s (savvies?), though used as super-powers, are metaphors for something more true to life. Here’s a passage I think clears up all you need to know about savvy’s and their metaphorical significance:

Momma said that lots and lots of ordinary folk have a savvy, but most simply don’t recognize it for what it is. “Some people know they feel different, Mibs,” Momma told me. “But most don’t know quite what makes them that way. One person might make strawberry jam so good that no one can get enough of it. Another might know just the right time to plant corn so it’s juicy and sweet as sugar on the hottest day of the summer.” Momma had laughed then, and I wasn’t too sure if she was telling me the truth or pulling my leg. “There are even folks who never get splashed by mud after a rainstorm or bit by a single mosquito in the summertime.”


But as I grew up, I began to understand that a savvy is just a know-how of a different sort. Some people get called whiz kid or prodigy because they can do puzzles or play music better than anyone’s supposed to, or they can recite the numbers of pi, 3.141592653… on and on for hours without a hitch. There are those who can run fast and win medals, and others who can talk anyone into buying anything at all. Those things are all just a special kind of know-how.

Ingrid Law’s savvy is writing books better than most of us. There are tons of points I want to make about Law’s craft, but as I see we are already halfway done, I’m going to limit myself to just three. The first is that she is every bit as much a master of the set up/pay off as Bob Gale or J.K. Rowling. Bob Gale, for those of you who don’t know, wrote the Back to the Future movies with director Robert Zemeckis.

Almost everything in the first half of a Back to the Future movie is dropping in bits of seemingly unrelated information, such as a flier for the town’s clock tower having been struck by lightning years ago, that pay off huge in the second half. As for Rowling, she spent two novels introducing us to Scabbers the friendly rat only to reveal a huge pay off in the third Harry Potter novel that is perhaps the most amazing and unexpected twist I have ever read in any book.

In the first chapter of Savvy, Law drops in a bit of info about Mibs's little brother Samson and his pet turtle. No one has the heart to tell Samson his turtle is dead and they let him go on feeding it. This is sort of humorous (if you’re not the turtle, that is) and it characterizes Samson nicely, and that’s all there is to it… for a time. Law goes on to tell us about other interesting things and to introduce other characters.

Just before Mississippi’s, or Mibs’, thirteenth birthday she is told how: Poppa’s car had gotten crushed up bad, like a pop can under a cowboy boot, and how he’d gone and forgotten to get out before it happened, landing himself in a room and a bed at Salina Hope Hospital, where now he lay broken and asleep, not able to wake up. Therefore, Mibs’s birthday is to be held at the church, which could be a disaster as Mibs has no idea what her savvy will turn out to be. It could be dangerous, and whatever it will be, she doesn’t want it to be public knowledge.

The morning of her birthday, Mibs discovers Samson’s turtle is moving again. Could it be her savvy is the power to raise the dead and/or comatose? I’m not going to tell you if she’s right or not as it would spoil the story, but in any case, Mibs hides in the back of a Bible salesman’s bus with friends and they set out for Salina Hope Hospital so Mibs can wake up Poppa.

Now Law could have waited to tell us that Samson’s turtle has been comatose the morning its awake, but it wouldn’t have the same impact if she had. It’s better when the reader knows something and then is surprised with new information in a set up/pay off. Some characters have tattoes, which seems like mear characterization until… but I’ve promised not to spoil. Still, it is fascinating to see how Law is able to establish a villain over several chapters before she is actually physically introduced to the story through a method I would again have to spoil the book to reveal.

My second point, or observation, is that Savvy is a prime example of how to successfully discuss religion in a mainstream story intended for readers of all different faiths (or lack thereof), without marking the book as “religious.” There is nothing more irritating than a story that serves only as a vehicle for some important “message,” which is a problem that plagues much religious fiction. I’m looking at you, Left Behind. People who agree with the important message may love the book, but the writer is risking alienating readers who do not agree and were hoping for just a good story, not a sermon.

For a non-religious example of irritating, on-point writing that creates a hollow shell of a story that serves only to reinforce a particular philosophy, see the collected works of Ayn Rand, which focus on a message so misguided surely no one could take it seriously as to do so could lead to financial policies that wreck the economy and create a small number of elites with such great wealth and influence they could purchase our democracy and subvert our government. Wait, former Chairman of the Federal Reserve Alan Greenspan was an objectivist and devotee of Ayn Rand the entire time he was making major economic decisions? Dang it! You’ve won this round, Rand!

Unlike the dreadful Ayn Rand, the wonderful Ingrid Law does not preach. Many writers simply avoid the subject of religion altogether in middle grade fiction, which is fine. But the Ninja lives in the Bible Belt and grew up in youth group and knows that a majority of Americans come from a somewhat similar background. And for people in general, religious beliefs and religious activities (whatever they may be) play such a huge role in day to day life that to leave them out of fiction would be to leave out a huge part of who human beings are at this time in our history.

Law introduces religion into her novel only as a means of characterization. Savvy isn’t a religious story, but rather a story that contains some religion—and to be fair, could serve as a religious metaphor, but only if the reader so chooses to interpret it in that way. Characters go to church, they pray, and they even ride around in a Bible bus, but it is not imperative that the reader do any of these things to relate to them. Here is a excerpt revealing some of Mibs thoughts on God that convey a sentiment I believe most atheists could relate to:

“…Don’t you worry, Mibs, I have connections.” Miss Rosemary pointed one finger up to the ceiling, though I guessed she was really pointing up toward heaven. Apparently, she was going to get God to help her plan my party. I figured God had much, much better things to do, like keeping people from starving to death or from killing each other, or helping my poppa, and so I hoped He’d just stay out of it.

And that’s it, Esteemed Reader. Be sure to check back on Thursday when Ingrid Law will be here to face the 7 Questions and on Saturday when we’ll have a surprise literary agent. What’s that? Oh, I promised three points and I only made two? But this review is already so long and I wasted so much time with that Ayn Rand stuff. Okay, fine.

My third point, or observation, is that Law also has a savvy for writing great descriptions. She reaches far and beyond to find similes that are fresh and interesting without ever laboring them and she does this as a finishing touch after crafting an excellent story that hooks the reader from start to finish. I’ll leave you with some of my favorites:

Rain pelted us like gravel thrown by a playground bully...


The itty-bitty town of Bee, Nebraska, was just about the size of a yellow striped bumbler; it could buzz right by you if you blinked too slow.


...a grinning giggle spread through the ranks, turning into a gut-busting crackup as the day's tension released like waves hitting shore.


I felt as though someone had punched me in the stomach and pulled out all my bones, turning me into a queasy, useless blob of Jell-O.

(when Mibs is faced with a boy who wants to do some snogging--MGN) Will looked back at me, startled, and I kept my heart muscle strong, feeling something inside me shiver like a pale green flower shoot just waking up for spring. But whatever that thing was, it was still too new to feel ready to bloom; it wanted time to send down roots. Someday soon I was going to bloom like crazy, and then I'd have what I needed to keep me standing tall.

STANDARD DISCLAIMER: Book of the Week is simply the best book I happened to read in a given week. There are likely other books as good or better that I just didn’t happen to read that week. Also, all reviews here will be written to highlight a book’s positive qualities. It is my policy that if I don’t have something nice to say online, I won’t say anything at all (usually). I’ll leave you to discover the negative qualities of each week’s book on your own.