Jan 28, 2009

So I wanted to write about this boy named Max who popped up one day on Facebook requesting my friendship. I look and see this little moppet face and have no idea who he is and then see from his profile he's a 15 year old Mormon boy from Idaho who lists Rain Village as one of his favorite books. (Mind you, I have gotten a few emails from people who liked that book but they are almost all women!) Right away he emails me and tells me how much he loves the book and how it inspired him to follow his own dreams; in fact he's just finished his first novel, he tells me. A first novel!  

Look at him:

So I talk to him on and off and he asks for agent advice and all kinds of things, and then he asks if he can interview me for his blog, and I say yes, of course, and here is said interview.

He also told me that he read Rain Village three times and that he read it another time out loud to his 12 year old sister, Bailey, who was in bed with a broken clavicle bone, I think.

I told my publisher about Max (that is, my editor and publicist and marketing manager) and they are going to send signed copies of my new book as soon as it's ready -- in mid February, tho it will be in stores at the beginning of March -- and when I told Max this he told me that he and his sister were both screaming.

Now how cute is that?

His blog, by the way, is called A Blog for the Intellectual Potato and here is Max's rather awesome description of himself:

Beautiful and Brawney
I have lived all of my life in a small place in Idaho. It's cold here and I don't like it, except for all the winter accessory possibilities it opens up, I like the warm when it's cold and I like the cold when it's warm. I wrote approximately seventeen poems, and I think two of them are good, no you can't read them. I do beleive that our societies collective capacity to communicate with one another via the mouth is slowly diminishing, but, hey, where would bloggers spend their free time if it wasn't. Just kidding, bad potatoes, computers are bad. I didn't know until just the other day that potatoes was not spelled potatos. AND I LIVE IN IDAHO. Just kidding, there was never and probably never will be a gap in my intellect.

So this is one cool thing about writing books:  earning the love of kick ass 15 year old potato philosophers in Idaho.

The end.