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New Children's Book 'A Whole Nuther Place'

Wednesday, October 28, 2026

The virus mayhem sank hundreds of thousands of small businesses, including my tiny publishing enterprise. Now here I come again.

My newest book, A Whole Nuther Place, will be released on March 1, 2027 and at that time will be available online or from your favorite bookstore. A limited number of Advance Reader Copies are available now. If you're a teacher, librarian, bookshop owner, or book reviewer you may request one by emailing me at w@wross.com.

Here's the official riff for this book:

For ages one through eight, A Whole Nuther Place is a thirty-two page picture book by the twice-Kirkus-starred team of author Warren Ross and illustrator Jade Fang (A Whole Nuther Thing 2016, and Gobumpin 2022). Every page turn advances a lively plot about the awkward meeting of the cultures of two different planets. Richly detailed settings and events approach a happy conclusion with plenty of laughs along the way. Fun fairy tale? Allegory? Gentle prod toward kind behavior? Sly introduction to geopolitics? Yes, yes, yes, and yes. Underneath this simple silly story are layers of real-world nuance for all ages. After the last page, curious young readers will wonder what happens next. Here are plenty of springboards for class discussion or family discussion.

Countless times I thought, "This idea won't fly; drop it." Still, I sent it to my illustrator friend Jade. She embraced the whole mess within her vast spirit, filtered it through her one-of-a-kind genius brain, and cut loose with flowing beauty, page by page, that powers every nuance.

This ridiculous book has kept me laughing for months. This laughter alone has already made the project worthwhile.

Kirkus will review A Whole Nuther Place in late December. I hope The Horn Book will too. Years ago in Copley Square, Boston, I met the fabled Roger Sutton, Horn Book editor-in-chief from 1996 to 2021. He's a real person. Roger rassles the lunacies of the real world with common sense, hard work, and keen honest intellect.

Today at Simmons University, long-time Horn Book contributor Cathryn Mercier carries on, seeming to seek and find the whole mysterious Universe in picture books, as do small children. I envision Leonardo and Robert Louis Stevenson smiling down upon her brilliant wide-open work.

What is a picture book? Ask Ms. Mercier; then listen.

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A Nuther High Place

Saturday, November 7, 2026

Last week, my illustrator partner Jade Fang returned home to Singapore after summiting Mera Peak, Nepal, 6476 meters above sea level.

From Jade: "I did this little Nuther drawing at one of the teahouses on the way up. He rode in my pocket to the summit and I planned to take a photo of him up there but the summit day was too tough lol... I wasn't able to do anything at all beside trying to get more oxygen."

Is it that hard? Yes. Try it, for an unforgettable experience.

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AI

Sunday, November 8, 2026

AI makes it easy to do things. Some of us look for mistakes in the things AI does, and then we say to our AI, "That's wrong." And the AI says, "Oh, you're right. That was a mistake." Many folks, though, prefer to simply trust AI.

Some folks can make trillion-dollar mistakes with no consequences. But most of us are stuck in something we call the real world. Plumbing repair is a real-world action, involving countless nuances that many people cannot imagine and would not understand. Somebody might have a small plumbing problem in their upstairs bathroom and ask AI, "Can I fix this myself?" AI says, "Yes. Get these tools and materials and watch this video." The homeowner carefully follows the video, finishes the job, and two months later when the family is away on vacation the repair fails and does $800,000 of damage to their home.

If a condo dweller does that, they can cause millions of dollars of damage to homes below them, with side effects of ruining lives and marriages.

Here's that old quote... "It is difficult to get someone to understand something when their paycheck depends upon not understanding it." We praise AI for expediting our business action. Do we consider consequences other than higher income?

People say, "AI is the real world now." Fair enough. There are plenty of real worlds. We can each make our own.

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New Children's Book 'Gobumpin'

Tuesday, November 1, 2022

My delightful friend Jade Fang has illustrated our newest book in the finest possible style. Kirkus Reviews has given it a Kirkus Star and listed it to Best Indie Books of July 2022. You may buy it from any of the usual retailers.

Here's the Kirkus review. Gobumpin is a guaranteed hit! Laughs galore.

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New Children's Book 'Podge'

Thursday, October 15, 2020

Mother Goose outside the box, with echoes of Edward Lear, Dr. Seuss, Edward Gorey, and Shel Silverstein. A hodgepodge of silly nothings, funsome anythings, gentle philosophies, impossibilities, lovable fools, mishaps, and more. Shallow enough for wading; deep enough to dive. Springboards to philosophy for kindergartners and elementary school students. A wealth of accessible material for the discussion of imagination and writing. Full color, offset printed, Smyth-sewn hardcover with dust jacket.

Here's the very positive Kirkus review. Thanks Kirkus. And thanks especially to my wonderful new illustrator friend Lisette Wansink!

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A Mishap

Tuesday, June 11, 2019

One merry April day in Aberdeen
I bought a charming little magic bean.
It sprouted whilst I napped, and found my nose,
then briskly pushed its way into my brain.
Now, rest assured, I'll never think again.

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The Monger

Monday, June 10, 2019

I like to mong and sing a song.
I sing and mong the whole day long.
Monging fishes, dishes, hats;
monging thises, monging thats.

Everything is mongable,
so watch your step, my friend,
or you yourself might soon get monged,
a most unhappy end.

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Culinary Preferences

Tuesday, May 28, 2019

When I was five years old my favorite food was fried baloney but I was happy to eat almost anything, except one thing I recognized as ‘Pecko’. If I looked at my food and saw small red bits, I thought, “That is Pecko, and I’m against it.” So I refused to eat it. No whining or screaming or crying, just a steadfast stand on principle. No Pecko. I seem to recall that my problem was with some sort of slimy texture, and looking back my guess is that pimiento was the culprit, though anything small and red qualified unless I could see a sharp edge like the epidermis of a red pepper. No problem there; that got a pass, but if you had cooked that same little piece of red pepper until the bit of skin came off and the remainder had a softish semi-stewed look, well by God that was Pecko. I also seem to recall that anything bigger than three-eighths of an inch was not Pecko.

My best friend Dennis had two concerns. Pulp in orange juice was the big one. He called the pulp ‘kernels’ and even one kernel was a show-stopper. His other concern was meat gristle, which he called ‘grizzle’. But grizzle was bearable because he could just put it aside and eat the better parts, except when his mother made him eat the grizzle. Perhaps that injustice fueled his occasional outbursts in later life.

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Ned Green

Friday, May 17, 2019

In February 2001 my climbing partner Scott and I summited Mount Washington in New Hampshire, which holds the world wind speed record of 231 mph, and where in February the average temperature is six degrees Fahrenheit and the average wind speed is 44 miles per hour.

We saw no one on the mountain until around two o’clock on our way down we ran into a nice young guy alone on his way up, with only one crampon. “Hi, what happened to your other crampon?” “It came off.” He had the crampon in his pack; we adjusted it properly for his boot and attached it securely and removed his other crampon and adjusted it and reattached it. He thanked us graciously. We told him it was a bit late to head for the summit and asked him if he’d like to descend with us. “No thanks. But I’ll be going back down through Huntington Ravine, because I came up Lion’s Head and that was too much for me.” We beseeched him almost on our knees to go back down Lion’s Head, which is far easier. He promised he’d do that. Again we asked him to join us and head down; he declined.

Scott and I headed down, and at the bottom of the Lion’s Head trail we ran into Ned Green. Ned was the caretaker of the Harvard Cabin near the base of Huntington Ravine and we had stayed overnight there with him a couple times. Wonderful guy, good climber too. We told Ned about the solo climber; he said, “You saved that guy’s life.”

But Scott and I were still worried about the guy, and so back home in Massachusetts we kept an eye on the Incident Reports. Soon came a report that Ned Green had died in Huntington Ravine.

So it goes, in the mountains. I’m not sure why Ned has been so much on my mind lately. Maybe because you could feel that he was a solid good person, and lately I've been painfully aware that there aren’t many of those. If you read Ned's story and feel that he made a mistake, let me please suggest that he lived the way he wanted to live, and that was no mistake.

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Mowing

Wednesday, May 8, 2019

When we lived in the suburbs I had an old-fashioned reel-type unpowered push lawn mower which I used most of the time. Sometimes when I was in a hurry I used a gas mower and I kept its blades razor sharp so I could mow while running it at idle speed which is pleasant because the motor burbles like a baby rather than roaring. You could have shaved a woolly mammoth with that thing, and in fact I did that now and then, and sold tickets for folks to watch, and with the proceeds bought three Rolls Royces like the Guru Maharaji.

In the middle of that lawn was a tiny orchid planted who knows when by Mother Nature, just one, so small the first time I saw it I thought it was a speck of tissue wafted over from little Milton blowing his nose next door, about the size of a Rice Krispie, the speck not the nose. But when I looked closer it was an exquisite flower, like blue ice crystals, impossibly beautiful, and so tiny the lawn mower went right over it and never touched it. The woolly mammoth enjoyed sniffing that orchid, except really there was no woolly mammoth but the orchid was real and I hope the new owners love the orchid, if the new owners are real, which I suppose they are because they paid for the place, which must be real too or they would not have paid for it, and I wonder whether they would have paid for it if they had known there was no woolly mammoth, or if there was one I never saw it. I wish I had.

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Two More Days

Tuesday, April 9, 2019

I hope you'll pardon a bit of seeming darkness which for me does not seem dark...

I live on the edge of Dimly Dire,
with a peaty fire and a pot
and a hungry dog and a lot of naught,
nine vines beyond the fen.

I live with a fiddle in a black black bog—
Crows, crows, crows.
What notes we make we'll never know
and isn’t it all the same.

Fly away high, and when you fall,
walk so slow, then slower,
and slower still, then not at all.
Crows, crows, crows.

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After Orwell

Sunday, February 10, 2019

How'd I get out here by the interstate
in the land where the Jumblies live.
Found a half-bottle under the bridge,
not a bad place.

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Friday Lunch

Friday, January 18, 2019

BAD SALAD

Three-bean salad,
two-bean salad,
one-bean salad,
and here comes a salad
to take all your beans away.

~~~~~

SLAMMY SANDWICH

I want a slammy sandwich.
I don't want a salami sandwich.
I want a slammy sandwich.
Slam slam slam slam slam
slam slam slam slam.

~~~~~

NOT A POEM

This is a pome.
I am at home with my pome.
My pome is my home.

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Free Range Taxi

Monday, May 14, 2018

In a dream I hailed a cab and got in and the cab peeled out. No ordinary ride. Ninety miles per hour through town, getting huge air, up on two wheels around corners—but somehow I had complete trust in the driver, who was pulling it off in perfect style. Then I noticed the driver was a chicken. No problem. Anybody who can drive like that is a hero.

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Are these funny? Don't ask me. I only wrote them...

Carefree in the Garden

Friday, April 13, 2018

A songsterish gardener named Zuhning
Was less gifted at pruning than crooning.
He sang as he hacked,
And when he came back,
He looked like a Willem de Kooning.

Peace

Thursday, February 8, 2018

On the cold peak of Pigne d'Arreau
sits a fellow named Paul Thibodeaux.
Perhaps you might think
he needs warming or drink.
Worry not—for he froze long ago.

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Tautologies for Tots

Sunday, January 28, 2018

If you’re asleep, you’re not awake.
If it feels good it doesn’t ache.
A silent Duckie makes no quack.
If you’re up front you’re not in back.
Haven’t finished? You’re not done.
Feeling awful isn’t fun.
Way up high, you’re not down low.
Won't move? Well then, you can’t go.

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Simple Charm

Saturday, January 27, 2018

Polly put the kettle on,
Polly put the kettle on,
Polly put the kettle on,
We'll all have tea.

Sukey take it off again,
Sukey take it off again,
Sukey take it off again,
They've all gone away.

I have the childish taste of a simpleton—for that I am grateful. This verse relaxes me, and God knows I need relaxation. The look of the words; the sound of the words; a mantra. All benevolent. Themes of sustenance, hospitality, teamwork, friendship. Pleasant things coming and going. Something to look forward to. Something to be thankful for.

Fire. Without flame the whole thing couldn’t happen; the kettle won’t boil. Fire is an ancient beloved ally and a connection, right in front of our eyes, between us and the odd atomic magic.

I hear the kettle's whistle, and see the steam, little shafts of sunlight in the steam. The sun's fire grew the wood that burns in the stove that boils the kettle. It's all together every which way, and together we'll all have tea.

"Thank you, Sun," says the whistling steam.

If 'Polly Put the Kettle On' weren't widely beloved since the 1700s, if it had been written yesterday, I wonder if even one current editor or agent would give it a second look.

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Trying to Write Some More

Sunday, November 26, 2017

Writing you've already done and rejected, however rough, gives you something to expand or revise when you’re uninspired. The more you've written, the more likely you’ll find some new inspiration in that old pile.

Write when you can. When you can't write, rummage through your unfinished manuscripts, outlines, concepts, titles, interesting names, bits of dialogue, odd phrases, anything.

Just look at them. When you see something you’d forgotten you wrote, and it strikes a new spark, you’re on the right track.

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What is a Writer?

Saturday, November 25, 2017

If you’re talking with someone about writing and they ask to read something you’ve written, do you have something to show? If yes, you’re a writer. Good writer, bad writer? That’s a separate question, endlessly debatable.

If writing brings you peace or inspiration or useful self-knowledge or money, or puts a smile on your face, you are a successful writer.

And here is writer David Elliott's dog, just because it's so charming...

Photo by David Elliott

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Still, We Smile

Tuesday, October 10, 2017

Sometimes, maybe in the middle of the night, we bemoan the deeds of our species. Here's a note of optimism from Bertrand Russell:

"All's well that ends well; which is the epitaph I should put on my tombstone if I were the last person left alive."

Better that sort of optimism than none. Our beautiful planet would carry on.

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White Space

Wednesday, March 29, 2017

Matter creates space and bends it.
Without white space

there is no art.
Cover the white;
still it was here.

Without black there is no white.
Cover the black;
still it was here.

It's all here.
It all bends.

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'Nuther' makes Kirkus Reviews' Best Books of 2016

Saturday, December 31, 2016

A Whole Nuther Thing has been named to Kirkus Reviews' Best Books of 2016. This makes me super happy, because Kirkus is a tough and significant reviewer. Illustrator Jade Fang deserves huge credit—she is an amazing artist and person.

A little indie like me, struggling on the edge of the publishing universe, feels encouraged by such affirmations, whatever they mean.

sp

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Let it Roll

Friday, December 30, 2016

“Soon Earth will cover us all. Then in time Earth, too, will change; later, what issues from this change will itself in turn incessantly change, and so again will all that takes its place, even unto the world’s end. To let the mind dwell on these swiftly rolling billows of change and transformation is to know a contempt for all things mortal.”
88Marcus Aurelius Meditations IX/28. (translated by Maxwell Staniforth)

The “swiftly rolling billows” bring to mind Darwin, who so clearly envisioned our planet’s geological heavings as if they were happening in seconds rather than eons. And change might be considered a more fundamental essence than matter and energy. Matter and energy may seem mortal when they take one form, but only the form is mortal. The same matter and energy soon scatter and join other forms. Such is the stream of consciousness of our universe.

Aurelius’ “contempt for all things mortal” helped him dismiss the horrors of humanity, and keep a clear mind with no fear of death. I've heard it said that he wasn't a fun guy. Fun or not, he's my friend.

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Easily Amused

Tuesday, December 20, 2016

I like plain soap. No oils, lotions, perfumes, oatmeal, corn flakes, creams, dyes, speckles, caffeine, or laudanum. I buy simple soap at our local hardware store just around the corner. It comes in a block of just the right size and proportions and color so when I cut it into two pieces—one for the sink; one for the shower—each piece looks like one-half of a stick of butter.

When I look at my soap dish every day and see an apparent stick of butter, I think, “Ha, ha, ha! That’s funny!” And this entertainment never gets old. Nine years from now it will amuse me just as much.

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Puddle Day

Saturday, November 26, 2016

Yesterday morning in the park it had rained, and there were puddles here and there on the walkways. As I sat on a bench with my coffee I watched a three-year-old noodle along. She encountered a perfect little puddle, and stopped, and studied the puddle for a moment. Then she hopped up and stomped the center of the puddle.

All the best talent in Hollywood couldn’t have produced this scene half as well. I don’t know where peewees get the wisdom that inspires them to jump in puddles. But if the day comes when toddlers stop doing that, we’ll know we’re in trouble.

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Arting in Babylon

Friday, November 25, 2016

It sometimes feels awkward, trying to be a writer/artist. Doing it alone is tough. I struggled solo for a year and then found the Writers Loft, miraculously close to home. The people at the Loft have been priceless supports and catalysts for many good things that have happened for me as an indie publisher.

In hindsight it’s not so bad that I worked alone for a while. I learned a lot during that year, so I had something to offer my new colleagues when I met them. If you can’t find a good group right away, just keep learning as much as you can, and keep reading and writing and thinking about what you read and write, so you’ll be ready. Luck favors the well-prepared.

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This Blog

This blog is random and unpolished, unkempt, because that’s me. I'm a sort of loose-cannon hippie artiste with a work ethic.

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A Whole Nuther Thing

Friday, September 2, 2016

A new children’s picture book, by myself and illustrator Jade Fang, is now part of this world among the thousands of other books springing into existence every day. A Whole Nuther Thing is the title. You may buy it from Brookline Booksmith or from Amazon. Here’s the riff:

What's going on in Dingledong Dell? A favorite toy truck has disappeared. But things are WAY stranger than they seem! The loss of the truck launches a quest which reveals a far bigger quest. Or is it all just a dream? A simple story. Also a quantum-state yarn. Is it this, that, or the other? It's all of them, and they all live in the realms of kindergartners and grownups alike.

Artist Alan McCormick lives in two universes at once, each more real than the other. He struck the spark for this book way back in 1998. At that time I had a website with an advice column. The column accepted and answered questions of all sorts, mostly spoofish but sometimes serious. Mr. McCormick sent in this question:

I've noticed that most people say, "a whole nother..." rather than "an whole other..." or "another whole..." Do you think that editors should include the word "nother" in their dictionaries or make people stop saying "a whole nother...?" I foresee enforcement difficulties with the latter. What is your opinion?

From this question sprang A Whole Nuther Thing. Thanks Alan!

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by Alan McCormick

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The Library

Sunday, June 5, 2016

Ages five through thirteen I lived in Hampstead, New Hampshire, where our wonderful librarian Mrs. Whitehead enhanced my life. Recently I went back to the Hampstead library to offer them my first two books as a gift. The person at the desk said she’d give the books to the librarian. A week later came a friendly phone message which said thanks, but the library was not able to accept the books, and said:

“We tried and it was difficult to catalog them. They were not quite children’s books and not quite adult books, so we were not able to add them to our collection.”

This inspired me to conceive a book project maybe entitled Kafka in Wonderland. I might write myself into this book as The Jeep, that old Popeye the Sailor cartoon character, blithe yet somehow sagacious, who rambles around smiling and disappearing and reappearing and walking through walls.

Anyway, once again I find myself flummoxed by The Real World, or whatever it is. That’s OK. As Yvon Chouinard said, if nothing goes wrong, it’s not an adventure.

p.s. I wonder what Mrs. Whitehead would have said. I'll never know.

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Book Reviews — Yikes!

Monday, March 7, 2016

Last week I offered my not-yet-released hardcover picture book, Red Boots and Assorted Things, on LibraryThing as a Member Giveaway. One hundred LibraryThing members requested a free copy of the book, and twenty-five winners were selected by an algorithm. I mailed out the free books and requested reviews in exchange.

The first review awarded one star (worst possible), and concluded thusly: “After reading this novel [sic] to my granfather [sic], he said it sounded like something a middle schooler on drugs would write and I quite agree. I did not enjoy this book, sadly, and would never read it to my children.”

I thank this reviewer for honesty and straight talk. "I'd rather be hated for what I am than loved for what I'm not," said Kurt Cobain. My books are not mainstream. Many people won't like them. That's OK.

On the same day as that review, the same book was enthusiastically accepted by a bookstore that won the Best Bookstore in Boston award in 2015 and in many previous years. And the second and third LibraryThing reviewers both awarded five stars (best possible) in GoodReads.

Pros say that negative reviews can be helpful. Now I know how. That honest one-star review helped me improve my Amazon Product Description, to give folks better clues about what to expect from the book. Also, I figure the “middle schooler on drugs” bit will inspire some sales for sure.

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Tuesday, February 16, 2016

Finding an Illustrator / Victoria Usova

While I was scouring online illustrator portfolios for an artist for A Whole Nuther Thing, I stumbled onto Victoria Usova. My lucky day! Her magical work wouldn’t fit A Whole Nuther Thing, but instantly inspired a completely different book concept. I made a three-spread PDF of the concept, adding captions to her paintings, and cold-emailed Victoria. She loved it, and we were off and running. Just like that. Natural teammates! Victoria’s art is the heart and soul of the book: Teapots and Assorted Things. And now we’ve finished a second book together, Red Boots and Assorted Things. It’ll be delivered from the printer soon. Thanks Victoria!

Finding a Printer / PrintNinja

As of today, I have done three print runs with PrintNinja, an Illinois-based offset printing broker whose production is in Shenzhen, China. Their website provides more helpful info about making books than any other dozen websites I could find all put together. Templates for all kinds of book interiors, endpapers, covers, and dust jackets. Simple fast pricing calculators. Great pre-press advice. And I could not find one single bad word about PrintNinja anywhere. So I jumped in, and I’m glad I did. Disclaimer: none necessary. I have no relationship with them except as a happy client.

Timely concise communication. Friendly attitude. High quality product. All put together, this is a competent, honest, open-arms crew who will make sure your book comes out well, and will do it for a fantastic price. The process feels good, like at least one thing is right in this world of hideous customer service.

If you’d prefer to work with a printer in your own part of the world, good luck. I tried that first here in New England, and I got nowhere. Every local printer I contacted turned me down, because I was a rookie self-publisher. I don’t blame them. A rookie in any industry is a pain to work with. But as self-publishing spreads, maybe these printers will realize too late that they have lost a growing market segment to others who are willing to put in the hard work to nurture new people in the industry.

PrintNinja does an astounding job supporting quality oriented self-publishers. They have made me, a newbie, feel like a real publisher. They care about me. I can feel it. And I can feel good about presenting my beautiful books to the world.

Finding an Illustrator / Jade Fang

Jade Fang, represented by the WendyLynn Agency, has nearly finished the art for my third picture book, A Whole Nuther Thing. How did Jade and I end up working together? I was a rookie self-publisher with no network. I looked at hundreds of online illustrator portfolios. I bookmarked the ones I liked, and emailed the artists one by one, with my picture-book text pasted into the email. The artists all referred me to their agents, and their agents politely said they were not interested in working with me. They worked only with well-established publishing companies.

Finally, one of the artists, Mark Meyers, emaile me and said he'd like to illustrate it. His agent told me that Mark was booked for the next two and a half years. Could I wait that long? While I mulled that over, Wendy suggested another of her artists: Jade Fang. I had a good look at Jade’s portfolio, and decided to work with her, and now months later here we are almost ready for the printer. I have learned in real life something I had read about: a good illustrator is not just an artist, but a conceptual collaborator who enhances the book in ways you would never guess. Thanks Jade!

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My Friend the Universe

Thursday, February 4, 201630862

"Life goes on within you and without you."
88George Harrison

My thoughts:

We are members of an ultimate community, as are all animals and plants, matter and energy, life and spirit, galaxies, all of space, and other things we don’t know about.

For solace in sad times, I think of this community of everything. It’s with us always and everywhere. It never goes away. It's infinitely tiny and vast, with destruction and rebirth every which way. In this context, are my problems really so bad?

Everything goes on within me and without me. Inside me and outside me. I’m part of it, and it’s part of me. This is true even when I forget it. But I feel better when I remember it.

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Nudged by the Company you Keep

Monday, November 9, 2015

I'm learning. A few things have happened since July 17, when Teapots and Assorted Things found its first bookstore. The book is now in several more fine bookstores, and one gift shop, and would be in a lot more if I had the time to visit them. Hand-selling books does take a lot of time, but can be a wonderful experience, especially when you start to get a feel for your niche.

Making children's books, and trying to sell them, puts me in touch with people I like.

I thank the fine people of the Writers' Loft who so kindly welcomed me into their bustling Bookapalooza and goosed me along in good directions. Likewise the New England chapter of SCBWI (Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators). These folks are selfless dynamos, and great fun too.

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It Takes All Kinds

Thursday, October 22, 2015

Stephen Jay Gould and others suggest that variation, rather than matter or energy, might be the primary essence of our universe. Recent research suggests that our brain neurons might have something resembling independent spirits, promoting variation. And Einstein said something about artists creating their own bearable world within an unbearable one.

Coleridge suggested that human imagination is "...a repetition in the finite mind of the eternal act of creation in the infinite I AM." The cataclysms of our vast universe, its blowings-apart and re-formings, are echoed by human imagination which "...dissolves, diffuses, dissipates, in order to re-create...."

From our pile of perceptions, thoughts, and feelings, we create new things. Compelled by that which created us, we cannot help ourselves.

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"Most men lead lives of quiet desperation," said Thoreau.

"Not me!" said I... until I got Lyme disease. It was like aging fifty years in four weeks. I got it when it wasn't well-known and wasn't taken seriously, and when I finally got treated it was too late. I couldn't get rid of it, and I've lived with it now for eighteen years. Pre-Lyme my mental landscape was like midtown Manhattan. Post-Lyme it's ten miles offshore in a pea-soup fog. I'm partly paralyzed and always exhausted. Many more symptoms are involved. But a lot of people got tossed into psychiatric hospitals for describing them, and most of us were called hypochondriacs. "Oh gee, none of us feel as good was we used to." So we learned not to talk about it.

On the brighter side, I don't lack entertainment. Every heartbeat shakes my eyeballs and slaps my brain with a cricket bat, and my teeth vibrate, and my ears constantly blast the sounds of every sort of cicada, cricket, and tree frog I ever heard. Sure that sounds silly, but that's the way it is. We learn to live with it all.

Fellow victims: for the knees, try glucosamine-chondroitin long-term. For me and for others I know, that can work miracles, though it takes months to produce results. It might not work for everyone, but again, please give it a long-term chance.

Many people are far worse off than I am, and they keep doing the best they can, putting one foot in front of the other. I've managed to do a few things myself. Easy? No.

But, "Hey Ho, Let's Go!" say the Ramones.

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Luck

Friday, July 17, 2015

Last weekend my wife and I went to my nephew's wedding on Cape Cod. At the reception dinner, we had a table by the window. Across the street sat an independent bookstore of Dickensian splendor, staring straight at me. "Hey you with the book," it seemed to say, "Are you going to try me or not?" In my car were a bunch of copies of Teapots. I would never forgive myself if I didn't cold-crash the place and try to sell them my book.

So I immediately trotted across the street to Parnassus Books and presented Teapots to Sarah, the owner, who struck me as someone I'd like to have as a friend. This shop was even better than it looked, if such a thing was possible, with a ludicrous variety of material and a super pleasant atmosphere. I found three unusual books to buy and looked no further, to avoid blowing my book budget for the whole decade. After talking a bit more with Sarah, I went back across the street to the reception with no expectation that I would ever hear back about my book.

Today out of the blue I got an email from Sarah requesting five more copies. I nearly sprained my spleen in my rush to get them packed and shipped. Not only will my book be in a bookstore, but it will be in THAT bookstore—exactly the type I love best. This is the Second Good Omen for Teapots, the First Good Omen having been Isabel on the New York Train (below). My happiness is beyond description. Thanks Sarah!

And: thanks to Victoria Usova, the Teapots artist, whose art is impossibly fun and fascinating, and much more.

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Thursday, July 16, 2015

How to Be the Best Proofreader in the World

To be the best proofreader in the world, empty your brain. Hear nothing. Feel nothing. Think nothing. Look closely at the whole piece, micro and macro. Look at every letter and every space, and every bit of punctuation, as if your life depends on spotting even the tiniest flaw.

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We Don't Need No Stinking Rules

Saturday, May 9, 2015

"Critics are too apt to forget that rules are but means to an end; consequently where the ends are different the rules must be likewise so. We must have ascertained what the end is, before we can determine what the rules ought to be."
88SaSamuel Taylor Coleridge

As I begin to learn about children's picture books, I hear of more and more rules that we must follow to have any chance at marketability. And I try hard to remember my own rules for picture books when I was four years old. I'm one of those people with tons of clear memories from my early life. And I know that those memories are mostly accurate, because I astounded my parents and friends hundreds of times in later years.

I remember being four years old. I don't recall having book rules. Books were around, and I looked at them. I didn't care how many or how few words they had. I didn't care if the words were big or small. I didn't care if the story had an arc. I didn't care if the book had a story at all. I didn't care if the book had one character or a hundred forty-seven characters. It never occurred to me that anything in particular was supposed to be going on, in the book. I didn't need to be told what was going on, or to be told what I was supposed to learn from it. I liked looking at the pictures and words. I could feel things going on somehow in mysterious ways, maybe like what dogs feel when they watch TV or stick their heads out the car window and look around. It was engaging and inspiring and I always wanted to do it again.

Sort of like our universe, hey? How many adults can say THEY know what's really going on? The ones who claim they know are the ones to watch out for.

Also when I was four my room featured a rocking chair with a cushion. The cushion was a faded quince-blossom red, with a repetitive pattern depicting the interior of a cottage, with a rocking chair and a hooked rug on the cottage floor. That scene was endlessly fascinating to me, like a portal to Creation and every dream since. No story. No characters—not even a cat on the rug. No lesson, no moral, no humor. Zero educational value in the Gradgrind-McChoakumchild sense or in any mainstream religious sense. You could argue that the rocking chair depicted on the cushion of the rocking chair might work as a springboard into philosophy, but to me that wasn't important then, at least not consciously. For me, the point is this: the image on the cushion loaded my brain, imagination, and heart with a sublime something that defies description. Figure out how that works, and you'll win a Nobel Prize or get thrown in an asylum, or both.

SO my first self-published book, Teapots and Assorted Things, presents an artist who gives me that same sublime feeling. This book breaks almost every rule I have found.

Maybe it's best to first know all the rules so well that we get sick of them, so it doesn't bother us to break them when necessary. If we're not sure exactly what we're trying to do, maybe we could start a project and follow no rule—then after a few drafts, rewrite the same project following every rule. Or the other way around. Then compare the two versions, pluck the best words from each, and consolidate them into a new draft. We might end up inventing some new rules that keep us true to ourselves. That way lies uniqueness.

Rules have an important place in art. Keep the rules in their place. Your imagination is a party, and rules can be party poopers.

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Preparing to Sell my First Book

Friday, May 8, 2015

"I try to think, but nothin' happens!"
88Curly Howard

My brain goes blank when I remind myself that now is the time to fire up my sales plan for Teapots and Assorted Things. Do I really have to do this logistical stuff? Why can't the Distribution Fairy show up and spread the books over the river and through the woods to every grandmother's house in the world?

A few copies have arrived, air-FedExed from China. The rest will arrive by container vessel and then UPS from Long Beach, California. Some morning soon, before they arrive, I'll grit my teeth and open an Amazon Seller Account. I already have the shipping materials. When I have the big shipment of books in hand, will I activate the Amazon account and then, like most self-pubbers, watch my sales soar to maybe 27 books per year?

This book will do better than that, with its not-so-secret weapon: the artist, Victoria Usova, whose work contributes 87.3 percent of the soul of the book. For years she has poured out beautiful paintings the way a child skips down the sidewalk. Spontaneous, straight from the heart and imagination. A lot of people have responded to that spirit on Victoria's merchant sites, and on her blog. A lot of people pre-ordered the book the instant she mentioned it. Bless you Victoria, for shaking loose my brain with this happy news! Thanks to you, our book is already finding new homes. I'll do my best to help it find more.

How does it feel, preparing to sell this first book? It feels good because I believe it's a good book, and because the artist is such a fine colleague. When I started self-publishing as a hobby, perhaps my biggest hope was to find new friends in the Arts world. By that standard this book is already a success.

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Isabel on the New York Train

Monday, May 4, 2015

Three days ago I drove to my local FedEx warehouse to pick up fifty expedited air-shipped copies of my first book, fresh from the printer. An hour later my wife and I were on the Amtrak train to NYC, and in my bag were a few of my books, as gifts for NY friends. As the train started moving we could hear a little girl behind us, reading a book aloud, and it struck me that I should offer her one of my books. So I stood up, and said, "Please pardon my interruption—you are a good reader, and I have just published a book, and I'd like to give you a copy as a gift. And you will be the first person in the world to read it." The little girl, Isabel, and her mother were impossibly gracious and charming and appreciative. As soon as I gave Isabel the book she read it out loud twice, and laughed, and said, "This is a cool book." She talked with her mother, and a few minutes later asked me to autograph the book. I wrote, "To Isabel, the first person in the world to read this book, and a very nice young lady. Best regards, Warren Ross." This episode felt like a wonderful start for the book. The very best possible start. Thanks Isabel!

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I'd Rather be a Fool than a Bore

Monday, April 6, 2015

Recently in the middle of the night, I lay awake thinking what a fool I am to spend so much time and money on this new hobby of self-publishing. Then I thought "I'd rather be a fool than a bore." Then I wondered how many other people felt that way, and so I got up to google that sentence. Before I googled it, I thought for a moment and figured a lot of people must feel that way, and I guessed that I would get eight thousand hits. I got ONE hit—in song lyrics from a Canadian musician named Valdy.

Now if someone googles that sentence they'll get two hits because it's here too, in this blog. I feel like I've killed something rare. Anyway, just one hit? I still can't believe it. But I'd still rather be a fool than a bore, even if there's only one other person in the world who feels that way.

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It Takes a Lot of Loafing to Write a Book

Friday, April 3, 2015

Gertrude Stein's famous words seem more and more true, as I learn about making children's picture books. When I first started this hobby, experienced writers' blogs told me to rewrite and rewrite, and let the manuscript rest for a few weeks and then rewrite again. And I tried it, and found that good revisions popped into my head at random times, with no effort or thought on my part, after my most painstaking text inspections had inspired no such improvements.

The Muses could explain this, if they had time to sit down with us and talk. If there are only three Muses, or four, or nine, depending on which history you favor, how can a mere handful of Muses find the time to inspire a growing multitude of artists? We need to be patient and let them visit when they can, and recognize their unique knock on our door when we hear it, and drop everything and let them in. They can never stay long enough to help us finish a whole project in good style all at once. So we must loaf for a while, and wait for their occasional suggestions.

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