Many writers have a defining moment, an instant in which they knew they would write. Do you?
Yes. Two. Mrs. Fredericksen told me, in fourth grade, that it was better to tell my friends the truth, then write down the way I wished things had happened. I began writing short stories for her. She unfailingly encouraged me. Mr. Doohan, my tenth-grade English teacher, made me promise I would keep writing. Teachers shape so many lives.
Why do you write historical fiction?
A connection to the past is profoundly important for young readers. In well-researched historical fiction they discover that life has almost always been hard, the world has always been scary. They learn that people have always been ordinary, and that ordinary people pass on a legacy of courage. Readers of historical fiction know children have lived through terrible times, been heroes, saved their families. They know children have always been competent, needed, important, and that they have as much courage as adults - sometimes more. If readers learn a little history, too, that's wonderful.
Why do you write fantasy? Isn't it irrelevant to real life?
Fantasy and science fiction novels create entire worlds, cultures, arts, languages, religions, economic structures, races of people. Nothing is off-limits, too sacred or too far-fetched. Fantasy novels are set amid the wide, wind-scoured fields of human dreams. The paradox is obvious. Everyone dreams. Even our oddest dream is as familiar as air. The near and the far - fantasy contains both.
Most science fiction and fantasy assumes each person is vitally important, that one person can cause profound, far-reaching change. That concept is part of my carry-on ideology, in the bundle of beliefs I have never unpacked, that go where I go. History is built upon single moments in myriad lives. I think how each one of us lives is critically important.
Does your own life end up in your books?
THE UNICORN'S SECRET series is based solidly on a dream I had a hundred times or more in the third grade. It contains so much of my childhood's emotional landscape that at times I have to stop and just breathe a few minutes until I can go on.
Some of my AMERICAN DIARIES titles are family stories I have adapted. In choosing each historical setting, I chose eras and issues that touched me deeply. My friends see pieces of my kids, my life, my fears, my joys in every book.
I am working on a YA fantasy trilogy now. It is about a world very different from this one. But every time I reread a day's work, I am astounded to find the dark cliffs of my grandfather's mountain, the never forgotten grin of someone I loved who couldn't love - or even like - me. All my old growing up battles are there: the agony of difficult friendships and the joys of flat-out, heedless emotional connection. I recognize the cozy loneliness, the beloved warmth and suffocation of family, the sky-wide joy of individuation - and it's all seeping out of my fingers into the story whether I want it to or not.
How is writing historical fiction different from writing fantasy?
It is oddly similar. The writer creates an unfamiliar world - and ends up describing chairs and walls and clothing the reader can't picture without help. But I always end up back at the same point, staring at the tidal shifts in the oldest human struggle. In my books, the good in humanity usually defeats the bad - but often not without a real fight. Sometimes the struggle is staged grandly, over whole worlds. Sometimes it plays out within a single human heart. Ordinary courage is always a big part of my books; I think it is a big part of every life. That's the gift I want to give readers, I think: an awareness of the human legacy of ordinary courage.
Is that why you write for children?
Ten years ago I would have balked at such a simple answer, but, yes. Yes, it is.