Razorbill President & Publisher, Ben Schrank, speaking about the Gügor project at BEA.

At the end of May, at Book Expo America 2013, people stopping into the Penguin booth had the opportunity to speak to one of the characters from my upcoming children’s novel, The Creature Department. The character in question was Gügor, who is a knucklecrumpler (of course).

If you don’t know what a knucklecrumpler is, think of something like an 8-foot salamander with colourful dreadlocks, usually dressed in little more than a tartan loin cloth (or just look at the pictures, below). Come to think of it, maybe it’s better if you read the book.

The cool thing about this incarnation of Gügor is that he’s a real-time CG project from Framestore, the amazing special effects company responsible for the artwork in The Creature Department.

Real-time CG means you can walk up to Gügor and say “Hello!” and he’ll say “Hi there!” right back. Or maybe just acknowledge you with a sheepish grin; knucklecrumplers are a bit shy, after all. In fact, you can carry on a whole conversation with the guy—in real time.

I’m happy to report Gügor was a big hit with anyone and everyone who stopped by! Here are some pics from Twitter (thanks to @RazorbillBooks, @Anthony13Rivera, @mwd320, @WunderElena, and @WunderCara for posting these). #AskGugor indeed!

Finally, here’s a peek behind the curtain at how it was done: An actor speaks into a microphone, while facial recognition software interprets his expressions and transfers them to Gügor. At the same time, Gügor’s various body movements are executed by a game controller. Very cool! Hard to believe less than a year ago, he wasn’t even a figment of my imagination. Ah, modernity…

A rosy pile of poets. (L-R: Sylvia Vardell, Amy Ludwig VanDerwater, Charles Waters, Guadalupe Garcia McCall, Jane Yolen, Michael Salinger, Rebecca Dotlich, and me)

I had been once before to the conference and, as always, if was great fun, especially seeing the wonderful people from Penguin USA—including one of my editors—whom I don’t get to see very often, not living in New York.

On the first night there, after a long flight from London, I drowned my jet lag in Sauvignon Blanc with a great group of librarians, Penguin folks, as well as more fellow scribblers: Gennifer Choldenko (Al Capone Does My Shirts) and the duo of Ashley Miller and Zack Stentz (Colin Fischer, X-Men: First Class)—which segues nicely into the next pic:

Texas librarians; Penguin people (not actual chimeras); Zack Stentz (in the spotlight); Ashley Miller (beside him); Gennifer Choldenko (or rather one half of her face, at the back, far left).

Gennifer spoke with eloquence and humour about researching life on Alcatraz when the prison was still active, while Ashely and Zack recounted the unique trials and tribulations of being a pair of Hollywood screenwriters who decided to pen a novel—and in doing so created their favourite fictional character. After that, I said my bit, speaking about “writers as outsiders.”

I was inspired by a quote I heard a few years ago from the radio presenter, Eleanor Wachtel, whose career comprises more than 20 years of interviewing writers about their lives and work. At the time, she was speaking at a literary festival, where she was asked if she noticed anything all these scribblers had in common. Wachtel has the poised fluency you expect from a lifelong broadcaster, but the question gave her pause. She was silent for a moment, considering an answer. “Outsiders,” she said. “All writers are, or perceive themselves as, outsiders.” I spun this idea into about ten minutes of—hopefully interesting—patter.

And then…more Sauvignon.

Before heading home, I caught the tail end of Neil Gaiman’s keynote speech on “What Makes a Children’s Book?” and still had time to see some real live cowboys, albeit in a show designed largely for tourists. They herded their extremely well-behaved cattle through the streets of Fort Worth in a kind of nonchalant answer to the Running of the Bulls…

Neil Gaiman, on “What Makes a Children’s Book?”

Texas: Cowboys included.

Too many scribblers to name…in a crowd so big this picture had to be pasted together after the fact (hence the blurry left side and the seam down the middle).

That’s it. What else is there to say? Not much. (Except what everyone already knows, that this is the real reason you become a writer. To produce phosphorescent books!)

London street art (er, “graffiti”).

Since relocating to London, I’ve been repeatedly astonished by the quality and sheer preponderance of street art. The stuff is everywhere, especially in my neighbourhood of east London. It’s gorgeous, inspiring stuff, too, not just illegible tags (not that there’s anything wrong with illegible tags, except that it’s kind of a private club, what with the illegibility and all). Which is why it’s so nice to see all these elaborate murals; capering characters; tiny, easily-missed tableaus…

A few of these artists are close to household names, people like Roa, Invader, Christiaan Nagel, and of course, Banksy. But wait, there’s more: If you’ve got money to burn, there are people you can hire to give you a tour of the art. Barring that, you can even download an official street art iPhone app.

On the other hand, many of London’s local councils consider the artwork garden variety vandalism—meaning the artists are criminals and ne’er-do-wells. Once their stuff is deemed graffiti, it eventually gets plastered over.

Then there’s the recent controversy in which one of Banksy’s stencils, done to coincide with the London Olympics, was chiseled off a north London wall, only to resurface on a Miami auction block—priced at £450,000 (sheesh). The sale of the piece was eventually blocked, however, following outrage from the local community, who had grown to love it.

Needless to say, there’s a story behind each of these. Damned if I know many of them, though; I just take pictures on my way to the library. Some of my favourites:

What makes the book so amazing (apart from a deeply affecting story and sparkling prose, of course) is the fact it’s not just a book. It’s a unique, unprecedented collaboration between Penguin’s most fabulous (definitely sharpest) imprint, Razorbill Books, and the Academy and BAFTA Award-winning special effects company, Framestore (Where the Wild Things Are, the Harry Potter films, Skyfall, and many others).

Instead of going the usual route, with me writing a manuscript, followed by Razorbill doing cover design, marketing etc, we wanted to find a way to get going with the book’s visual elements—jacket design, character illustration, even a possible smart-phone app—right from the start. Hence the involvement of Framestore.

Needless to say, compared to my past work as a writer, it’s been an entirely new experience—but certainly an exciting and fulfilling one. Consulting with professional artists and animators about how characters will look—while you’re writing them—is kind of a dream, something more akin to the storyboarding process of filmmaking than what I’m used to as a novelist. Best of all, it makes the job of the author a lot less lonely.

Anyway, there’ll be a lot more on The Creature Department soon, including some interviews we shot recently in London and New York.

Until then, go read Puggly!

PS: If you are still interested, here’s what Galleycat had to say about the whole thing.

My German is quite poor (non-existent), but with the help of a German-speaking friend and some online translation robots, I’ve extracted some choice quotes from this article in Germany’s BuchMarkt magazine:

“Following the announcement of the first six winners of the German audiobook prize last week, the seventh and final winner has now been added: In the category of ‘Best Children’s Audio Book’ the five-member children’s jury from the magazine ZEITLeo unanimously elected the reading of Zorgamazoo, published by Silberfisch (Audiobook Hamburg). Martin Baltscheit was honored for his service with the German Performer’s Audiobook Prize.”

…

“Imaginative, vibrant, fast-paced, this audiobook humorously rekindles the pleasure of rhyme,” raved the nominating jury. “Uwe-Michael Gutzschhahn translated Robert Paul Weston’s long poem into lively German. And the fantastic reading by Martin Baltscheit contributes to the revival of an almost extinct art form.”

…

“Fantastic!” Dorte Brunotte, the program director at Silberfisch, cheered when she learned of the decision from the children’s jury…”This is an audiobook in the truest sense of the word—when a poem for the ears gets the prize it’s an award for the spoken word itself.”

Needless to say, I’m extremely pleased. Zorgamazoo has now won audiobook awards in both English and German.

Ultimately, however, this is an award for the people behind the German edition: Uwe-Michael Gutzschhahn, the translator, Martin Baltscheit, who performed the reading, Silberfisch, who produced the audiobook, and Jacoby-Stuart, the publishers who brought the book to Germany in the first place. Congrats to all of you! It’s wonderful to see my odd little book with a new life in a new language. Many thanks.

The Shaman of Spud, rocking out on his electric lute.

As of today, it’s exactly one month before the release of my new novel-in-verse, Prince Puggly of Spud and the Kingdom of Spiff. Of course, I’m excited to see it in bookshops, but I might be even more excited about the artwork—by the amazing Victor Rivas!

Victor is responsible for the drawings that introduce all the chapters in both Zorgamazoo and Prince Puggly. He recently posted his final artwork for the latter on his flickr photostream…and they are amazing!

(A touch of backstory: Way back in 2007 the people at Penguin showed me some of Victor’s work and asked if I would like him to do the drawings for Zorgamazoo. I took one look and replied with a resounding YES.)

Victor’s illustrations for Zorgamazoo lift the book to another level, but here, with Puggly, he outdid himself. Check these out:

Princess Frannie of Spiff, with a bit of a slug problem.

“Her Dickens, her Brontë, her Austen, her Poe…
As her father decreed, they all had to go.”

Granny O’Bungleton, scribbling away in her little alcove.

Wonderful stuff! There’re more of these posted in Victor’s gallery, along with samples of his extremely diverse output. Thank you, Victor, always a pleasure!

1. In January, Penguin USA’s young adult imprint, Razorbill Books, expanded into Canada. This first pic was taken at the launch party, held at The Baitshop Gallery in Toronto. It’s a skate shop, bar, screening room, cafe, whatever you like (even comes with its own half-pipe—you can see a slice of it down below the footlights). Speaking on stage is my Canadian editor (and head of Razorbill Canada), Lynne Missen.

Feb 2012: Razorbill Canada Launch Party

2. In May, it was the Forest of Reading Awards, where Dust City was nominated in the Red Maple young adult category. Sadly, I don’t have any pics that capture the excitement (or the noise) of the event itself, but a few days later, I was a guest at the Peel Region Celebration of Reading, put on for any kids who couldn’t get tickets to the actual ceremony. The Celebration takes place in an arena full of 4000 screaming readers. Seriously. Screaming.

May 2012: Peel Celebration of Reading

3. In July, Machi and I finally pulled the ripcord and moved back to London, something we had been planning for a while. This pic was taken on a hill overlooking Aurora, north of Toronto. It’s one of the last pictures of us in Canada. Obviously, somebody just said something hilarious.

June 2012: Last days in Toronto

4. So yes, we moved to London, where Machi has been able to slip right back into the theatre production work she was doing when we first met. It was a crazy summer with the Olympics and the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee, so to signify the move, here’s a photograph of a wooden Queen Elizabeth automaton, waving. It was part of an exhibit by Cabaret Mechanical Theatre at Space Station Sixty-Five, a gallery in South London.

July 2012: The Royal Wave

5. Sometimes, I work at the library. Sometimes, when I get there, there’s an inspirational quote stuck to the wall. Sometimes, it’s not inspirational, it’s just cool. Like this one from Adam Ant.

Aug 2012: Adam Ant Quote

6. Sometimes, I don’t work at the library.

Sep 2012: My Temporary Office

7. In autumn, Zorgamazoo was published in Germany. I’m not a translator, but I’m sure it must rank up there with the trickiest texts to convert into another language. So hats off to Jacoby-Stuart, my German publishers, and especially to Uwe-Michael Gutzschhahn, who did the honours of re-writing the whole book in German. I attended the Berlin Int’l Lit Fest to coincide with the publication (that’s me on stage, second from the right).

Oct 2012: Berlin International Literature Festival

8. As I write this, I’m spending New Years on the west coast of Japan with Machi’s family (plus doing research for a new project—coming soon, I hope).

On the way here, I passed through Helsinki. Running to catch my connecting flight, I snapped a pic of this guy, sitting at the base of some escalators. When I tweeted the photograph to see if anyone knew what it was, I got a response from the actual airport (which, of course, has its own a Twitter account). The sculpture is by Finnish artist Kim Simmonson.

Dec 2012: Helsinki Airport

9. It’s Japanese tradition to eat soba noodles on the last day of the year. Since they’re one of my favourite foods, we decided to go one step beyond and learn how to make them from scratch. Here’s me with possibly the deadliest (certainly the heaviest) kitchen knife I’ve ever held. My soba came out awesome, by the way. I was surprised as anyone.

Dec 2012: Choppin’ Soba

10. Last pic of the year is this one, of Kenroku-en Gardens in Kanazawa. Beautiful place for a winter walk. Happy New Year.

Kenrokuen Park, gorgeous for a winter walk.

They don’t make ‘em like this anymore (or at all).

Today I stared down Jack Kerouac’s 120 foot scrolled manuscript of On the Road, currently on display at the British Library.

Check it out if you have a chance; the scroll’s impressive for a few reasons. First, it was penned uber-fast, in a three-week writing binge in the spring of ’51 (following a load of planning on Kerouac’s part, mind you). Second, it’s the most expensive original manuscript ever, auctioned off for $2.4 million USD in 2001. And three, there’s the simple fact that it’s a whole book written on a single piece of paper.

Seeing it today, however, there were a couple other things that made it special.

This week marked the last time a typewriter will ever be made in the United Kingdom. Brother, the only manufacturer still producing them here, announced it was no longer feasible to make them. Any day now, the machines may disappear completely.

If they do, then even if we have long rolls of paper lying around (not just beside the crapper), what Kerouac did in ’51 will still be impossible. Or at least it won’t have the same impact; clicking PRINT on your MacBook Air isn’t the same thing.

Which is why I’m in favour of the pencil.

Hard to find a single sheet of 120-foot paper these days. Same goes for typewriters, I hear.

And that brings me to this: Recently, a bunch of writers complained the internet was their deadliest distraction. Some went as far as to call it an addiction. I can empathise. Easy to loathe the web when you’re trying to finish a manuscript.

This week, however, I did just that. I finished a manuscript. With a pencil.

So, for what it’s worth, here’s my advice to writers who feel themselves subsiding into internet-addiction: Screw the web-blocking software. Don’t cast about in vain for an old mimeograph. Just get yourself one of these:

The mechanical pencil: Possibly the last time Technology produced something I could really get behind.

First, it was great to see how seriously the festival treated writers for youth. At some other festivals I’ve attended, there can be an element of segregation between adult authors and those for youth.

Not so in Berlin. While there, I not only had the pleasure of meeting my extremely talented translator, Uwe-Michael Gutzschhahn, and my incredible German publishers Jacoby-Stuart (individually known as the lovely Edmund Jacoby and Nicola Stuart), but also a bunch of fellow scribblers from across the board, including new friends Niels Mohl, Rachel Ward, Peter Pohl and Salah Naoura.

Jacoby-Stuart are known in Germany for producing books that are not only interesting and thought-provoking, but also beautiful. So too, with the German edition of Zorgamazoo:

Zorgamazoo, the German Edition by Jacoby-Stuart. Gorgeous!

Over the week, I spoke at the festival, at schools, and on panels discussing the current state of youth literature. All great fun, but the highlight was certainly my visit to Allegro School in central Berlin.

Allegro specialises in music, art and drama, so what better way to celebrate than with not one, not two, but THREE different plays based on Zorgamazoo. There were costumes, special effects, original music, and pre-recorded film portions. All incredible!

Last but not least, massive thanks to Christoph Peter, Ulrich Schreiber, Thomas Böhm, Janice Sternagle and all the people who made the festival happen!

And finally, some pics:

Speaking at the Berlin Festival, Sep 14, 2012

Amazing school projects (including oil paintings by the head mistress!) at Allegro School in central Berlin.

Seriously: Paintings!

Katrina (gripped by a fabulous Mrs. Krabone) spots Morty in the subway tunnels.

Katrina dreams of a lobotomy, which of course was hilarious.

A theatrical interpretation of Zorgally Ball.

Great stuff: The kids did all their own music.

Me with Edmund Jacoby, half of the wonderful publishers, Jacoby-Stuart. (Forgive the goofy grins. This was the last night; wine flowed.)