My tried-and-true, one-match fire structure was good and ready. I had the nest of grasses inside a kindling tepee, inside a bigger tepee, surrounded by a log cabin. I was excited to be smelling the smoke, and when the smoke showed itself like a genie rising out of the wood, I giggled.
My husband, who was standing by with a fire extinguisher (because, well, he knows me and my projects), was snapping pictures with his phone.
Any second now, there’d be fire!
I pulled and pushed the bow fervently, the smoke genie kept rising, and when I was sure there was a coal waiting for me under the board, I tossed the bow and spindle aside, pulled out the leaf, and saw…
About a quarter teaspoon of soot.
No coal.
Nothing remotely red.
“You need to go longer,” my husband with the phone and fire extinguisher suggested. “And faster.”
So I reassembled everything and tried it again.
And again.
And again.
My arms were aching and I was breathless and sweating when I finally, finally produced a coal. With shaking hands I transferred the coal into the kindling nest and…
The coal went out.
Argh.
But I had to do this. So I reassembled everything and produced another coal. I tried transferring it again, and again the coal went out.
I pulled the nest out of the fire structure so I could more easily transfer the next coal. That worked much better, and when smoke began expanding inside the nest, my very weary arms were greatly relieved.
Until the coal just…died.
“You have to blow,” my husband said. “It needs oxygen to burn.”
Duh. Of course. That’s how I always got fires going. But here I was so exhausted that I’d forgotten.
Back to the fireboard I went and sweated out another coal. And this time when I transferred it over to the nest, I blew.
I could see the heat of the coal spread to the tips of the dry grass. Little twinklings of red. Little sparks. And while I was blowing, my mind made a connection to Wild Bird, to my poor lost character Wren:
This was what she needed.
This was what all kids needed.
Shoot, this was what everybody needed!
We hold tiny sparks inside us, and to bring them to life—to really make them burn—they need oxygen. Without it, sparks just die.
I was so distracted by this thought, this connection, that I stopped blowing.
And just like that, the sparks went out.
Argh.
So I went back to the fireboard, got another coal, transferred it into the nest, and this time I blew and blew and blew. Smoke billowed, sparks twinkled, but where was the fire?
My husband leaned in and added his breath, and suddenly whoosh! There was fire burning!
In my hands!
“Aaaaah!” I cried, and tossed it wildly into the air.
We managed to shepherd the burning ball into the fire structure without incident, but I was, I admit, glad for the foresight of a fire extinguisher.
Afterward, I had so much I could use for my story, but more than that, I had my revelation.
Sparks need oxygen. Lots of it. And no matter what our hopes and dreams are, we need to surround ourselves with people willing to blow oxygen onto our sparks. In our pursuits—and this is not limited to just creative pursuits—there will be naysayers. People who will tell you you’re not smart enough or pretty enough or talented enough or strong enough or young enough or old enough or whatever enough. Don’t let people like that anywhere near your spark. All of us face failure and discouragement, but instead of giving up, we need to find people who are willing to be the oxygen, people who will help us fan our sparks into flames.
This doesn’t go just one way.
We need to be the oxygen for each other.
It’s my hope that this book has served to blow air on your spark, whatever it may be; that you’ll come back to it and reread the passages that give you courage or strength or hope, and that you’ll move forward toward your goals. The best days of my life have been the ones when I’ve had hope in my heart, and the best way I know to create that is by putting hope in the mail. Send that query. Build that website. Take that class. Write that book. Try out for that team. Apply to that school or job that seems out of reach.
And when you find people who are willing to support you or help you, remember them, treasure them. And when it’s your turn, be the oxygen for them.
Blow.
And blow hard.
Wren’s revelation at the end of Wild Bird is that the first step in moving forward is learning how to light a fire inside yourself.
So here’s to your spark.
May you find ways to ignite it, and keep it burning long and hot and bright.
My creative sparks could very easily have fizzled out if not for the gusts of oxygen supplied by so many. For over twenty years, the three strong and consistent winds on my embers have been my husband, Mark Parsons; my editor, Nancy Siscoe; and my agent, Ginger Knowlton. How warm and bright my world is because of you!
There have also been countless librarians and teachers who have arranged for me to speak on their campuses and have used my books to kindle a love of reading in their students. Thank you for sharing your hearth—your classroom or library is a treasured space, one I’m honored to have been invited into and to have my work occupy.
And thank you to everyone who encouraged me to write this book—I do hope it encourages you to write yours…or pursue whatever your dream might be.
Inside my publishing house are people who have helped shape and promote my books for my entire career. Thank you to everyone at Knopf/Random House—both in-house and in the field—who has lent breath to the cause, especially those who have diligently tended the flames since the first Sammy Keyes book.
Thank you, too, to the booksellers who have shown an undying passion for connecting readers not just to any book, but to the right book for that person at that time. Some of you have been hand-selling my titles for more than twenty years. How can I ever thank you for that?
And, of course, thanks to my family and friends, especially those who have taken turns hauling wood to the fire pit when I was in danger of burning out. Your steadfast support has meant the world to me!
And finally, to my fans: Your letters, posts, and reviews have been like passing the flame of one candle to the next—small gestures, perhaps, but collectively they have lit up my world. You. Have. No. Idea.
So, to all who have helped build the ring, haul the wood, strike the match, stir the embers, or lend me oxygen, please know that, with an eternal flame of thanks, this one’s for you.
Winner of the Edgar Allan Poe Award
“This sleuth delights from start to finish. Keep your binoculars trained on Sammy Keyes.” —Publishers Weekly
“A strikingly raw and emotional story. The first-person narrative perfectly captures Wren’s cynical yet vulnerable teen voice.” —School Library Journal
Winner of the Schneider Family Book Award
“Jessica’s determination to regain her old life and her passion for running will touch everyone who reads this story.” —The Examiner
A School Library Journal Top 100 Children’s Novel of All Time
“We flipped over this fantastic book, its gutsy girl Juli and its wise, wonderful ending.” —Chicago Tribune
“Holly’s lively self lingers in the way the best characters do. Runaway is certainly one of the best young adult books of the year.” —The Sacramento Bee
Winner of the Josette Frank Award from the Bank Street College of Education
“A story with a perfect balance of mirth and poignancy.” —School Library Journal
“Van Draanen deftly hooks readers with her ve
ry first sentence and keeps their attention with a series of hilarious stunts right up to the shocking climax.” —Booklist, starred review
“A dastardly good read. Written with gleeful wit, rapid-fire pacing and snappy dialogue.” —Kirkus Reviews
Winner of the Christopher Award
“Wa-hoo! for Shredderman, and kudos to Van Draanen for delivering a character-driven series that’s spot-on for middle-graders and great for reluctant readers, especially boys.” —Booklist, starred review
© Connor V. Parsons
Wendelin Van Draanen was a classroom teacher for many years before turning to writing full-time. She is the author of Flipped, The Running Dream, Wild Bird, The Secret Life of Lincoln Jones, as well as the Sammy Keyes mystery series and more.
She’s spent twenty years speaking to groups both young and adult about writing and the writing life, and after many, many requests, she’s sharing her story here. “Not the boring stuff, but the parts that pertain to writing and finding silver linings. The parts that I hope will make you follow whatever path you choose with guts and determination.”
WENDELINVANDRAANEN.COM
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Hope in the Mail Page 19