“And You Can Still Buy It Online!”
Yeah, I’m late again (well, sort of; this was supposed to be last week, and that was supposed to be the week before, and that… you get the picture). It’s ok. I’m still in an adjust period as I, well, adjust to living in a new country. But I’m working out a schedule! Slowly but surely, and maybe, just maybe, one of these days I’ll get back to regular posts. Maybe even this one. I might even get around to talking about my Big Europe trip again. We will see….
But that’s not the plan today! Today I want to discuss, once again, another thing I did during this absolutely jam-packed summer. Four things, actually. And they all have to do with my book! Which you could probably have guessed if you read the title, and which you can still buy here! Although, frankly, my readership is primarily made up of people I know, so chances are you’ve already got a copy. And if I know you really well, chances are you’ve already got a signed copy, no less! Because what did I do a whole bunch of in the week leading up to me leaving for Sweden? Say it with me now; book signing events. Four of them!
Not only was I signing books, though, I was giving out bookmarks, too! Sort of! I designed these myself (using resources I got from Albert Whitman and the book’s illustrator, Jenny Miriam), and you can tell that graphic design is clearly my passion. But I printed about 200 of them, and by the end of the four events I went to, I was entirely out of bookmarks. A lot of my friends and family didn’t even get any because I had given away so many at earlier events. Oh well, I knew I should have gone for 201. At least I kept five for myself, for some reason.
But the first signing event I attended that week was less of a signing event and more of a presentation of the book. I went to my old junior high school, where I attended sixth through eighth grade in 2010 to 2013. And damn, isn’t that weird to think about? Both that it’s been over a decade since I was in eighth grade (it feels so much longer ago than that) and that it’s only been a decade since then. So much has happened to me and the world since I “graduated” eighth grade. But that’s beside the point! I went to the junior high school, talked really briefly about who I was, why I was there, what my book was about, that kind of thing, and then I signed a copy of my book (I’d filled out personalized notes earlier) and gifted the school two copies. And now, hopefully, they’ll be forever in the school’s library.
Honestly, it was really surreal to be back there, in such a different context than the last times I’d been there. But it was also a really, really fulfilling experience, even if I only got to talk for about five minutes and barely said hello to anyone. But I think I did an alright job being there, because I got to thank all the teachers and faculty for the work they do for these kids, and the work they’ve been doing for literally decades. I mean, as I told them, I’ve had the opportunity to work with kids (mostly in the first to sixth grade range, too) over the last year and a half, and I only have to work with them for like two or three hours at a time. And when I think about how they have to get to do that everyday, I don’t know how they do it. I jest, of course, I loved working with kids at camps, and I’m sure I’d love being a teacher too, honestly. But I have a newfound appreciation for the kind of work that goes into it at a school-wide level, and I’m glad I had the chance to thank them all for the work they do. I also wanted to do a similar program at my elementary and high schools, but me going to Sweden didn’t really offer the opportunity.
But I’m glad I got to thank them for the work they did for me, specifically! Perhaps the highlight of that event was getting to see (and take a selfie with) the two middle school teachers who had the biggest impact on my time at the school. They were my 7th grade science teacher and 8th grade social studies teacher, but more importantly, they also ran the school’s Science Olympiad club. Science Olympiad is like track team for nerds, where we get together after school and on weekends to take tests for fun and compete in different science-focused events. As you might imagine, I loved that shit. As you might also imagine, I did very, very well at it. The events range from building bridges to identifying trees, and it was all great fun and very educational, but the most important aspect of it was always the fun that I had spending time with my friends and the two great teachers who made it all possible. Science Olympiad, both in Junior High and High School, helped develop my love of science and push me towards a deeper understanding of science topics. I helped foster my love of learning, and was some of the most fun I had in school growing up. I’m really, really glad that I got to see them again, and I hope that they’re proud of what I’ve done since. They, much like many other people who have supported me and my development, are partially responsible for this book’s existence.
Although I didn’t get to thank my elementary school and high school in the same way, I did send them copies of my book, too (or, rather, ask my mom to deliver them after I left town). Although the message is different for everyone (and each one is individualized in other ways, too), here’s an example of how I tended to sign the books:
But on to the next event! Not quite chronologically, since this was actually the third event of the week, but I’ll introduce this one next. My dad set up a meeting between myself and the president of the Forest Preserve District of DuPage County so that I could present a signed copy of the book to the district. How did he do that? Well, he’s personal friends with the guy, so it helps to have connections in high places. It was a quiet affair, mostly just a chat with the president over coffee (which is certainly something in and of itself), and a photo opportunity to present a signed copy of the book. But it was really cool, and personally important to me in ways similar to my presentation to the junior high.
Both my parents are really outdoorsy people, and both of them equally instilled in me my love of nature and appreciation for a good hike. But my dad’s worked at the Forest Preserve District for my entire life, so we spent a lot of time in the preserves when I was growing up. I went to summer camps there, spent weekends camping in the parks, went on hikes with family and friends, trained for Philmont at and later accidentally broke into (*shudder*) Greene Valley, did countless Cub Scout and Boy Scout programs there, did my Eagle Scout project for the district’s wildlife rehabilitation center, went to Take my Kid to Work Day like five years in a row, attended and later volunteered at an educational Halloween hike in the woods/interpretive cabaret show, and so much more. I grew up going to these forest preserves, and having the chance now to also give something back to them and show them what I’ve accomplished is very, very exciting. I love land conservation (getting a degree in it), and I love the work that they do, so it was super exciting to have this special presentation of my book to the preserve’s president. Plus, you know, it’s great marketing for my book, too. So that’s a plus.
But perhaps the most exciting (and professionally-produced) book signing event that I participated in was the one at Anderson’s Bookshop in Downers Grove. It was a fairly short event, about forty-five minutes or so (plus a half an hour before for greeting people an unknown length of time at the end for ice cream afterwards), and even though it technically sold out, approximately 95% of the attendees were people that I know personally. So not a ton of street draw, perhaps. But that doesn’t really matter; at this point, publicity wasn’t really the purpose (although it certainly helps). Nor was the purpose to sell the books, although they did sell; my book ended up being Anderson’s best selling kids/YA book for the week of the event (thanks in part to my parents buying fifty copies to give to family, but that’s just details). No, as much as it was a good business deal for both me and for Anderson’s (I hope?), this signing was more about fulfilling a lifelong dream of mine.
So, Anderson’s Bookshop is what I consider my “first” bookstore. Perhaps even more than my local library, or at least just as much, Anderson’s was the place where I really fell in love with books and writing. When Nick and I were growing up, both my parents worked on Thursdays, so every Thursday, my grandmother would pick Nick and I up from school and take us to her house until our parents got home. Usually Thursdays went something like this: she’d pick us up from school, we’d go to Anderson’s Bookshop and maybe pick out a book, we go to her house and watch Arthur or The Land Before Time, we’d eat chicken patties and french fries for dinner, and sometimes get ice cream at Every Day’s a Sundae before going home. She did this every Thursday for close to a decade. I always loved Thursdays with Grandma, and now that I’m older I can also better appreciate both the immense help this was to my parents and the personal undertaking it was for my grandmother. So I will always cherish these memories as an important part of my childhood. Thank you, Grandma.
I could talk about those Thursdays forever. But for this post, the operative part of the story is going to Anderson’s Bookshop. I loved going to Anderson’s. I knew the place inside and out, I knew exactly what shelves to look at for the books I wanted, I even knew the woman who worked as the bookseller there. She still works there, in fact, and still remembers me quite well. She had a hand in making these experiences powerful, of course, but Anderson’s always felt like a warm, welcoming place where I could go to find new adventures and stories and anything else my little brain wanted. I got dozens of Magic Tree House books, books of fish and birds, I got my first proper YA novels from Anderson’s (including the Hunger Games, I think), I even entered a summer reading contest they had when I was in second grade, and I read so many books that I was pretty much the instant winner. Anderson’s donated twenty books to my grade school in my name, and even though that school has since moved to a whole new building, some of my prize books are still there, some fifteen years later. What I’m saying is, if the point isn’t clear enough already, is that Anderson’s is a really important place for me as a writer.
And ever since I was little, coming to this place as a child, I knew that someday I’d have my books on those shelves. It has been a dream of mine, since the time I could write, that my books would be sold at Anderson’s Bookshop. I could see it as clear as day, books with my name on them, my stories, on the shelf right when you walk in the back of the bookstore. That’s been my dream since day one. And you know what? It’s real now. With the publishing of this book and my author signing event at Anderson’s, I have achieved that dream. I got my books on those shelves. And I’ll be honest, there were some tears. I did get a little emotional at it, it was such a surreal feeling. That’s me. I did that. I wrote those words that make up those books. And here they are. Wow.
So, yeah. The event itself was fairly standard stuff; I talked for about twenty minutes or so, answered some questions and asked the audience (interpretively) to discuss climate change. I talked about how I got to where I am now, I got to thank my parents and my grandma and Anderson’s and Gillian and everyone else who was there, and I got to say a special thanks to Miss Kathleen (gosh, I hope I spelled that right; I don’t think I’ve ever seen her named spelled out), the woman working there who I’ve known nearly my entire life. I can’t really even describe how fulfilling that was, to be able to come back to this place and thank her and be in the space that’s been so important to my writing career. And then I got to sign books! That was really cool, too! I felt like a real famous author, signing books for people. Of course, unlike ALA these were all people I knew, so that makes a difference, but maybe that makes it even cooler. Sometimes famous people talk about getting sick of signing books or autographs, but I don’t think I ever could. How could I be upset that people appreciate the work I’m doing and want to celebrate with me? How could I be upset to be so lucky as to have that kind of a position? Signing books is so cool.
Although something that was incredibly exciting and fulfilling that I wasn’t even prepared for was people really came out of the woodwork for this one. People I hadn’t seen in nearly ten years, maybe even longer, showed up to this signing. Friends who I’ve known for my entire life were here to celebrate with me. Family that I hadn’t seen in ages came out to support. It was a phenomenal feeling to see not just my core family supporting, but people who surprised me. It was a wild experience, and there were, again, some sentimental and emotional moments during my presentation. I did lose track once or twice because there were some strong (positive) feelings going through my head. But it was all worth it. Gosh, what an experience.
I don’t really know what else I can say about it that I haven’t already said a million times. Getting to the book signing at Anderson’s made this whole process of writing the boo worth it. Even if I never make any more money off of this book, even if I never write another book again (doubtful, but possible, I guess), even if I stopped writing tomorrow and never touched paper for the rest of my life, I can always say that, yes, I achieved one of my longest-running childhood dreams. I got my books in that bookstore, and I got to sign books there. That alone is worth the two-ish years of writing and chaos that preceded the publication of this book. It’s one of the bucket list in the most serious way possible, and I am so, so happy for that. And thank you, as always, to everyone who made it possible.
After Anderson’s, that’s when I signed the books for the Forest Preserve, but after that I had to start getting ready for two things; one, packing to move to Sweden. And two, a big-ass going-away party slash family and friends book signing. That’s right! More signed books! I spent more time signing books at my own party than I did actually eating the pizza we had ordered. And you know that if I’m not eating the pizza, then it must be some serious signing.
But first, here’s a picture of my home desktop, wrapped up to keep dust out of it while it waits for me to return. My entire life is in that computer: this jank-ass storage method better be enough.
And a picture of all the gifts and extra copies of my book that I sent out to people who couldn’t make it to the party (because they live in Minnesota, mostly).
Funny thing about this party, it was also a sort of dual going-away party for both myself and for my best friend Melanie, who left for Tanzania just a few days after I left for Sweden. Her and I had talked about throwing a joint party, but it never really came to fruition. Well, my mom being the woman that she is, took it upon herself to make sure that Melanie got some of the party too, which I think is just really sweet. Look at how cute the flags are together!
But, just like all four (five?) of the graduation parties that have happened at my mother’s house, there has to be some sort of shrine. This time around, for my book signing, it was a proper shrine of books. There were three left by the end of the evening. Every other one had been signed (by me) and given away (by my mom) to someone who had shown up at the party. And I think that’s great. Party favors should make a comeback.
And there was cake, of course. Two cakes! With flags! What are the odds of that?
Anyway, this is also the two people leaving. Which one is me? Can you tell?
The party was a lot of fun, even if it was an absolute whirlwind of people, too. I signed so many books, talked to so many people, ate not nearly as much pizza as I would have liked to, but it was all worth it because I got to spend time and hang out with some of the people who are most important in my life before I take this very new, very large step across the pond to Sweden. So if you’ll allow me an Instagram moment, here’s a bunch of photos from the party. Why do I include them when I rarely ever include pictures of people? I don’t know. This time feels different. The feelings of having all these people coming out just to celebrate me, combined with the excitement/dread/anxiety of leaving for a brand new country, made me feel with particular sharpness and poignancy the incredible luck I have been given. How lucky am I that I get to have this many people in my life that I care about? What did I do to deserve this? I don’t know, and maybe it’s no more than just good luck and circumstances, but I am forever grateful that, even as I prepare to leave all of them for some time, I have this many people that care for me.
I’m not going to go through and name every one in every photo because I know who they are, and if you reading this don’t know who they are, there probably isn’t any reason for you to know them at this point. However, Pablo (and Alondra, too!) gets a special mention for being both my very first friend when I moved to my hometown, and for being one of the first people I told stories to. He and I would ride the bus to school together as early as kindergarten, and I would tell stories to pass the time. Usually about magic guinea pigs, penguins, macaws, and crazy adventures. There was a theme early on, for sure. So it was really, really special to me that Pablo was able to come to both my going away party and my book signing. He, like my parents and my grandmother and Miss Kathleen at Anderson’s, really had a huge hand in kickstarting my stories. So having them all together in one place was a really, really special moment too.
I would also like to point out my Aunt Sue, for being the first person to get my book in the mail (two weeks before its release, I might add; don’t know how that happened….)
And I’d like to thank Steph, for being the first person to actually buy my book! Once the pre-order sales option went up, I’m pretty sure she was the first person to send Albert Whitman their hard-earned cash.
And as for everyone else in the rest of these photos (and in no particular order), well, thank you for coming to my party and for being in my life. Your presence is noted, recorded, and appreciated. (this will be used against me later in my trials when the IRS finally catches up to me for Wii U Tax Fraud.)
I’m noting now that I’m missing two photos, and I can’t seem to figure out why or where they are. Well, that’s not true. For one I at least know the answer; I don’t have a photo of me with my mom, dad, and Nick, and that’s because the one photo we all got together is atrocious and should never be shown anywhere. Sorry. The other, a group photos with my college friends, I can’t seem to find. Sorry. I may have to get another copy from someone. But in lieu of that, I want to really, really thank my mom (especially for hosting the party!), my dad, and Nick for always, always, always loving and supporting me. They may ultimately get waylaid in this post in favor of more book-specific support people, but remember that you three of course, above all and always, get the biggest love and thanks. Thank you. I love you.
And then it was off to Sweden. I’ve said this a lot, both in here, and just about everywhere else, but thank you again to everyone who has touched my life in some positive way. I am who I am today because I knew/know you. The love and support I received, especially in the weeks leading up to my move to Sweden, was simultaneously wonderful and a little overwhelming (but in a good way). Thank you, for the unimaginable kindness and the amazing people you all are. Thank you. I love you all.
But wait! Aren’t I forgetting something? Oh, right, of course! The cats! I can’t take them to Sweden with me, sadly, but I’ll give you a brief update on what ended up happening with them. You know, just in case anyone was wondering about what’s up with them. I’m always wondering what’s up with them, and will gladly show pictures of them to anyone who does[not] ask. They are still old. They are still fat. They are still living pieces of furniture. Julius is still deaf. Alex is still loud. They are still the sweetest cats I have ever met, and all they want out of this life is constant affection. But now (since April, and I think I mentioned this before, but here it is anyway), they’re living with my dad, who is graciously keeping them for the rest of their natural lives. And we have no idea how long that is, so, fingers crossed. They are doing excellently, they are very happy and they like him a lot. So while I’m still sad I don’t have my fat cats anymore, they’re just fine. Here’s a few pictures of them before I go.
Surprise! We aren’t done yet. It’s another thing, interspersed with cat pictures! I want to take this moment to tell one last story regarding the header image before I go. I promise I have not forgotten (it’s actually the first thing I wrote for this blog, even though it’s placed last). I don’t think I’ve told you all here before, either, have I? Huh. Well, anyway, it’s this: The guy I’m signing the book for in that header image is Randy, a close family friend of 15+ years now. He’s also the guy who I dedicated this book to. And I’m sure a few of you caught that and thought, “huh, that’s weird, who the hell is Randy?” (and I’m sure some of you were possibly peeved that you weren’t the dedication; sorry, Cheyenne and/or my mom/dad). Well, the very long train of events that lead me to the publication of this book all trace back to Randy in a very real, tangible way.
To make a long story short, when I was in 8th grade, I went to a science fair weekend event at either Argonne or Fermilab; my mom and I disagree on where. But as we wandered, there was a flyer for a teen sci-fi writing contest through Northern Illinois University on a table somewhere. I looked at it and thought, “eh, I wouldn’t win.” But later, as we walked, Randy pulled that flyer out of his pocket and handed it back to me. He told me, seriously, that I should enter, and, jokingly, that he’d better see me win. I took the flyer home, thought about it, wrote a story, figured, eh, why the hell not, entered it in the contest, and won. The grand prize, no less. I was, uh, floored, to say the least. The grand prize included an all-expenses paid trip to NIU’s teen writing summer camp, which sounds lame as hell but was actually one of the best experiences of my early high school years. I entered again next year and won. Again. And I went to summer camp, and it was great. Again.
Anyway, after that I got to know the coordinator of the contest and the summer camp pretty well. That’s Gillian King-Cargile, by the way, whose books on Vaccines and Type 1 Diabetes (separate books, not the same book) you should also buy. She offered me a position as a guest judge for the next year’s contest, since I couldn’t win it three years in a row, I guess. After that, she offered me a paid position as a teen-writer-in-residence for NIU, where I wrote a couple of stories (one published here, one unpublished anywhere, maybe? For now, at least…) that ended up becoming my first properly paid writing, not just something I won an award for. So that was very exciting. I got to know Gillian pretty well, and worked closely with her on that. The residence ended eventually (possibly because of a Turkish cyberterrorism attack against NIU that I can find no evidence for but I swear I remember hearing about…), and I went to University of Illinois and did things there. Time goes by.
Then, during COVID, Gillian reached back out to me and asked me to hold a short Q&A session with her summer camp students for that year, which was sadly being held over zoom at that time. COVID times were… weird (but the safety measures were for the best, I think). The session went well, it was nice to talk to a new round of kids (who all looked much younger than I remember feeling as a camper myself), and Gillian I chatted a bit afterwards. That was when she told me that she was working on a book about Vaccines for Albert Whitman & Co. (publishers of the Boxcar Children series), and would I want to work on a book about climate change for them? Her editor, Sue, had asked her to write it, but she passed it along to me as it’s pretty in my wheel-house. Well, I got in contact with Sue, I sent in a couple sample pages and an outline draft, and Sue got back to me and said, “this is great. We’ll have a contract next week.” The rest, I suppose, is history. (There’s more to the development of this book than that, mind you, between drafts and editing and revisions and what not, but the details are at times… unpleasant. That’s all I’m gonna say about it until the book’s out of print. Don’t ask me more. Just buy the thing.)
And now the book is out! It’s been out for, gosh, almost three months now? Two and a half? I went to the ALA conference, had five (in total) different book-signing events, and according to my royalties statement from Albert Whitman, as of June 30th, 2023 I’ve sold… somewhere between 1,100 and nearly 2,000 copies (I don’t know because I can’t make sense of their royalties statement)! Hot damn! I’ll take it! That puts me solidly above the (questionably sound statistic of) 25% of books that don’t sell more than twelve copies. It’s not a break-out success or something, but that’s only preorders and one week of true sales. So I’m pretty happy with that! I’ll keep you updated with more sales figures as I get them.
But all this, all these events, all those books, the very existence of this book, my summer camps at NIU, my friendship/mentorship with Gillian, my signature on the pages of this book that I wrote, it all can be traced back, fairly concretely, to Randy handing me that one flyer at that one event. Man, I didn’t understand the butterfly effect when I was younger, but I’m starting to get it now. So thank you again, not just to everyone who came to my party, my book signings, who supported me in more numerous ways than I can name up to and including my birth, but also to Randy. Thanks for setting off the odd chain of events that lead me here. I’d say I owe you a dinner, but you’ve already got the dedication, so let’s call it even.
Thank you, to Randy and to my mom and dad and Nick and Gillian and Cheyenne and Anderson’s and my schools and my teachers and my friends and Albert Whitman and everyone who has been a part of this journey, roots reaching back far before the teen sci-fi contest and effects that will continue long after. Thank you all. I’m here because of you, and I won’t forget it. I promise.
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️