The crucial thing in the stories that is emphasized repeatedly is that David loves Gadzooks, that he must never make him cry, so that he won’t shed his fire tear, or lose his spark. In other words, David must keep Zookie’s inner flame alight. In day-to-day terms, Chris is telling himself to “stay friends” with his creative source, or he will run the risk of losing its help, and with it the ability to be inspired. Believing in Gadzooks “raises his auma,” that is, makes the connection to David stronger. The more that happens, the easier the connection is maintained. Self-belief is vital for a writer.
Gadzooks is also a vehicle to open David’s mind to possibilities beyond those that would usually be considered the accepted norm. Likewise, by following his own intuition, Chris can create his own pathway through the world, literary or otherwise, instead of simply retracing the old familiar tracks of habit.
As if all that wasn’t enough, Zookie is able to predict the future — only a very short while ahead — or he makes the future happen, or perhaps a little of both. In the book, it is deliberately kept ambivalent as to whether fiction is mirroring life, or vice versa. Chris is telling himself that circumstances are not always definitely one thing or another. Sometimes they are much more complex than that; wisdom often lies in keeping an open mind.
Chris often finds vital bits of information for a story just popping up at the exact moment he needs them. This happens far too many times to ignore. He now just accepts it as part of the creative process. And if the information isn’t close to hand, a quick request to the Universe (that is, a mental plea sent out for help) usually brings what is required, and often from very unlikely sources.
Chris trusts Gadzooks in the sense that he often doesn’t know what he’s writing about until after he’s done it. To paraphrase David, when he describes writing his stories to Liz, “It’s a bit like being on a mystery tour…. You sort of know that you’re going, but you can’t be sure where until you arrive.”
Chris will write anywhere. (Not on walls in subways, of course.) When away from home, he has to make do with any odd moment that he can find, at any time of day, or even night, sometimes, to type on his laptop. Ideally, however, Chris writes in the mornings, till around two-thirty if “in the zone.” An average of 500–1,000 words is considered to be a “good” day — but on a “bad” day, he’ll stare at the carpet till ten, cut his fingernails for fifteen minutes, and decide it’s imperative that he rearrange his paper clips (individually) for another hour. Then he’ll have a change of pace and strum his guitar, waiting for inspiration to come. Clearly, though, it’s inspiration’s day off: It will take Chris forty-three minutes and twenty-two seconds to realize this. (He’ll be watching the hands of the clock by now.) Eventually, he will write a paragraph. Rewrite it. Erase some of it. Replace it in a different order. Erase all of it. Snarl a bit. Growl a bit. Write it again. Then he’ll come downstairs having achieved nothing but an oversized headache. Thankfully, days like these are few and far between.
However, on those days when he does get “in the zone” — lost in that other world — he can hardly get the words out quickly enough. The story flows and pours out of him almost faster than he can write it down. Chris says this is the biggest “high” in the world. Time ceases to exist for him, and even when he comes downstairs for something to eat he is still in a daze and has to take time out to readjust to this world. It is almost as if the story has already been written on some other plane of existence, and Chris is just “listening” and copying it down; as if the story itself is a living entity and wants to be told, just as much as Chris wants to tell it. It’s a cooperative venture, he says.
Other authors have spoken of a similar feeling, that they have to just “reach up” and grab a story “out of the ether.” This could explain why many books on a particular subject (say, vampires, wizards, or dragons) are created at similar times. Some writers will be just “jumping on the bandwagon” of something that has been proven to be a recent commercial success, but discounting that, there is a definite “zeitgeist” (meaning “spirit of the time”) effect going on. A basic idea seems to make itself known to any who are able to perceive it “floating around,” but each person filters it through their own personality and writing style, so different authors will have different “takes” on it, and thus will turn out different books, all with the same theme.
Chris is interested in many different subjects beyond the boundaries of accepted reality, and explores them in his writing. Subjects such as quantum mechanics, time (is there such a thing?) travel, probable realities, parallel universes (are there other versions of “us”?), life (with or without physical bodies) on other worlds, and the expansion of consciousness all appeal to him hugely. He has always had an attraction to such topics and investigates them in his imagination before including them in his fiction. But is it fiction? Could it be that we do choose our own parents, as Alexa does, or that death is “just another place to be”? Can we heal ourselves simply by the power of thought? Or affect the outcome of situations just by intention?
Our understanding of this world is changing all the time, and there are a larger and larger numbers of scientists who are now beginning to think that some, if not all, of these things may be within our capabilities as human beings, at some point in the future, if not currently (some say there is only an eternal “now”). Perhaps in days or years or centuries to come, extra-sensory perception — things like telepathy, manifesting by visualization, conversing with flowers and the apparently inanimate Universe — will be commonplace. Perhaps there really is a fine line between what you imagine and what you create. In which case, we had all better start imagining wonderful things — and thus do our part toward creating a wonderful world in which to live in peace and harmony. As David Rain says, “All things are possible with The Fire Eternal,” the most creative force in the Universe.
* This is what Gwilanna disparagingly calls storytellers.
Most authors have a Web site these days; Chris is no exception. In fact, he actually has two. The main site is www.scholastic.com/LastDragonChronicles and it has all kinds of information about the books. There are tons of facts about the series and characters along with games and activities. You can find out more about Chris here. Chris also has his own Web site, www.icefire.co.uk, that was created by Marshall Pinsent at www.pinsentdesign.com, virtually (ha!) from scratch. Chris gave him all the info, of course, but the rest was entirely Marsh’s brainchild.
On this site, you can find out lots about Chris and his books, as well as a link to dragon-maker extraordinaire Valerie Chivers. Chris’s Web site is also home to Gadzooks’s own literary output, a blog called Zookie’s Notepad. You can find it on the Web at http://zookiesnotepad.blogspot.com. Zookie updates this each Sunday, and it usually contains tales of delight or of woe regarding the doings and failings of Chris himself, whom Zookie calls “the author.” He occasionally puts paw to pencil to mention “Mrs. Author,” too, usually representing me in a rather better light than Chris, for some reason.
He thinks Chris is a bit too slow on the uptake sometimes, often ignores what he has written on his pad, and even misses the fact that it is his genius that makes the books what they are. He’s also a bit miffed that Snigger the squirrel got a handsome royalty of ten percent (paid in nuts) when The Fire Within came out, yet he, Zookie, has seen nary a bean for all his efforts. Maybe that’s why he was so delighted when I told him he was to have his picture published.
Gadzooks in superstar mode; pad and pencil aside, for once
Along with hints and tips for budding writers, the Icefire Web site also houses Chris’s contact details. Fans are welcome to write to him here, and anyone looking to book an event with Chris can also approach him via this site. Don’t forget, though, that he lives in England, which is rather a long way from America for a single school or library visit! You’ll also find a list of frequently asked questions — and some of Chris’s songs that relate to the books, more about those in chapter 11.
Chris receives between one hundred and two hundred e-mails a week from fans all over the world. He does his very best to answer each one individually, though this is occasionally difficult to do when he is away traveling or deep in the homestretch of book-writing. Very rarely he’ll send a generic response letter, but he dislikes doing so quite intensely. He believes that if a fan has taken the trouble to write to him, then he should do them the honor of replying personally. Ages of fans range from eight to eighty-eight (to our definite knowledge) and the messages cover a whole spectrum from a simple “I think your dragon books are the best!” to great missives that are almost books in their own right. All are gratefully received. As Chris says, it is only by this kind of feedback that you know you’re doing a good job — or not.
Although the majority of e-mails are from young people, a growing number are from adults, often thanking Chris for his books from a parent’s point of view. These are the ones where a child with severe dyslexia, for instance, has improved because they couldn’t wait for their mom or dad to read them the next installment of the story, so have picked it up themselves and persisted through their difficulties, as they just had to know what happened next. It is life-changing for Chris, as well as the child concerned, when he reads messages like these. The satisfaction is enormous, both on a creative level, and simply as a human being.
Some of the e-mails are incredibly funny, whether intentionally or not. Like the young lad who wrote to Chris thanking him for coming to talk at his school, saying how much he’d enjoyed the visit, and how Chris had “expired” him. We assume he meant “inspired,” as we have had no visits from the local police force regarding “death by reading Icefire.”
Another lamented the fact that he could not see and converse with dragons; his school did not have a language class in dragontongue….
Chris once put a picture of his breakfast bowl up on his site; no particular reason — the camera was just handy when he was having his cereal, so he thought, Why not? You would not believe the amount of e-mail traffic that caused. Everyone and his sister wanted to know what was in the bowl. Even teachers were writing in, saying they had been taking bets on it being this cereal or that one. Just what is all that about? And no, I’m not telling you what brand it was. We might just be inundated.
Chris recalled reading about a famous pop star in the 1960s being quoted in an interview as liking Jelly Babies (a type of British candy). The star had sackloads sent to him by adoring fans over the next five years. Every time the interview appeared in a different paper or magazine, another batch would arrive. Although Chris doesn’t go so far as to imagine he has even one adoring fan, he quite enjoys the idea of mentioning that he likes licorice, and fruit and nut chocolate — just in case.
And while we’re on the subject of the 1960s, one bright spark asked Chris if he liked the Beatles. Thinking that he had acquired some strange sort of telepathic link with said child, he replied, “Why yes, how clever of you to realize. Indeed I do.” Immediately came back the response, “Thought so. All old people like the Beatles….” Oops. That didn’t go down too well in d’Lacey-world.
We had one message from a boy who told Chris endless information about himself; where he lived, who he lived with, what their names, habits, and hobbies were; what his ambitions were; on and on. It was actually quite interesting. But right at the end of page four or thereabouts, he finished up with a final sentence:
“What was your favorite swimming stroke at school?”
It had absolutely nothing to do with the bulk of the e-mail, and left us both mystified, speechless, and then hysterical with laughter, in that order.
Chris does have some quite “normal” fan mail, in case you think he just attracts the rather strange kind. “Were you good at writing when you were at school?” is a common question. The answer is yes — and no. Take a look at Chris’s school report, pictured. The real one actually read, “Chris’s grammar is outstanding, but sadly this boy does not have a creative thought in his head.” Chris was dropped down a flight of stairs when he was a baby; it obviously took thirty years for the concussion to wear off! Either that, or his creative ideas were in his socks all the time. You will also note that he was terrible at Geography, too. That is precisely why he made David a Geography student. Just as well he did, because it was a very useful and believable way to get our hero to the Arctic — on a field trip for college.
See me afterward, boy!
The “short and sweet” questions are great fun. Often an e-mail will come in with no mention of the books, and with only a dozen or so words in the message: “Describe yourself in three words” (tall, daft, and handsome); “Why should I get my mom to buy me a Pennykettle dragon?” (They warm the place up, make toast in a flash — albeit a bit blackened — and reheat a cup of tea quicker than any microwave.) “Who would you give your last Rolo to?” (Gadzooks); “What was your first job?” (Screwing the handles onto coffins — Chris’s granddad was an undertaker — then later working in a toilet paper factory — as a tester … of the perforations, of course. What did you think he meant?); “If David is based on you, do you say tee-hee-hee and crikey, like David does?’ (Yes, I do — I can vouch for this; he also snores just like David is described as doing); “What is your perfect sandwich?” (Lancashire cheese with loads of brown sauce — but as a child: peaches, French fries, sugar, and licorice torpedos — it is unclear whether Chris meant separately, or as one almighty mélange. And I honestly haven’t had the courage to ask him. Far too much information.)
There was one question, however, that begged to be answered in more detail, which was “What are your top ten favorite sentences or moments that you have written in the books?” This had Chris scratching his head for a while, but here is how he responded:
I’ve always liked the tension between Bergstrom and David. It first begins in Icefire when David asks Bergstrom, “Who are you? Really?” and Bergstrom rather spookily replies, “Your destiny.” That set the tone between them for the whole series, which is carried right through to the final chapter of The Fire Ascending.
Gretel is one of my favorite dragons. It’s not always the things she says that make me laugh, but the things she does. I like the way she constantly teases those around her and dismisses the other Pennykettle dragons as useless or stupid. The one incidence of her behavior that always makes me smile is when she tries to blow smoke rings through Bonnington’s ears to see if they’ll come out on the other side. Poor Bonners. He never did quite get the upper paw.
As fans will know, a lot of scenes in the early books are set in the Arctic. I’ve never been to the Arctic so I have to rely on images I’ve seen on TV or in books to describe it. It’s always very satisfying when you come up with a line that seems to encapsulate the beauty of the place or the wildness of it. In this example from Fire Star, David is quoting Anders Bergstrom’s description of the tundra — that hard sheet of barren permafrost that edges much of the Canadian High Arctic. Zanna and David are driving across it in a truck when David says:
“When we first arrived, I asked Bergstrom how I could describe the tundra. ‘The unshaved face of God,’ he called it.”
The truck took a slight uneven bounce. “Well, next time you see Our Lord in Heaven, tell him to shave more often,” said Zanna.
4. Zanna has come out with many great lines over the course of the series and is usually at her best when she’s arguing with David. The one that always makes me shiver is in Dark Fire when David tells her that Alexa is destined to be an angel, a symbol of harmony for the entire human race, and Zanna replies, “Where on the curriculum of motherhood was this?” It’s just the perfect icy, sassy response. Ooh, she’s fantastic!
5. All the principal female characters are strong and I couldn’t put together a list like this without involving Lucy and Liz. Fans who wrote to me after the early books loved and loathed Lucy in equal measure. Some found her charming, others plain irritating. My favorite word to describe her was “truculent
.” It means “cruel or scathingly harsh,” though I would tone that down to “belligerent” in her case. My favorite bit of “truculence” comes when she’s a teen in Dark Fire and she’s deliberately ignored her mom’s attempts to call her. When asked to explain herself, Lucy pulls out a pair of earphones and says, “The god that is Pod called louder. Sorry.” Moms, you’ve probably been there….
6. And what of that super, unflappable mom, Liz Pennykettle? My favorite line of hers comes from The Fire Within, when she puts the entire theme of the series into perspective. One wet and miserable day, David is stomping about the house, fed up because he’s got writer’s block. When Liz suggests Gadzooks might help, David says he’s banished the writing dragon to the bookshelf (from the windowsill Zookie loves). When Liz queries the wisdom of this, David says:
“He’s made of clay … He doesn’t know the difference between a bookcase and a windowsill.”
Elizabeth Pennykettle bristled noticeably. “Well, if that’s what you think of him, no wonder he won’t help you.”
What she’s basically saying — to all you writers out there — is never dismiss your source of inspiration, no matter how strange that may appear to be.
7. The next choice is really for Jay. When you write a major series like this you need to have a clear idea of your characters, particularly how they act and speak, but also how they dress. David was pretty easy to visualize because he’s based on me. The coat he wears in the early books came straight out of my youthful wardrobe. The interesting thing was dressing him in styles of clothing that I would have liked to have worn but never did. In Dark Fire, he comes into the kitchen to meet Zanna wearing a battered black coat — a kind of gunslinger look. Jay begged me to go out and purchase the same outfit! But what works at twenty-five, doesn’t always translate at fifty-something.
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