I met this guy last week at a baseball game. His name is Jeff Dowd, also known as The Dude.



Jeff Dowd was the Coen Brothers’ real-life inspiration for this guy:



This guy’s name is Jeff Lebowski, and he’s also known as The Dude. This guy is in a movie called THE BIG LEBOWSKI, and if you haven’t seen it, I recommend it. It’s strange and wonderful and all sorts of Coen Bros. nuts. You gotta love it.

I was rather amazed when I met Jeff Dowd, because . . . well . . . he’s The Dude. And he’s a lot like The Dude in The Movie. And I’m sure half of it is planned and cultivated, but I’d bet the other half is just Jeff Dowd being Jeff Dowd. And the Coen Bros met him somewhere and said, “wow, this guy is worthy of a movie!” And he is. Hopefully someday a character for one of my books will come strolling up to me in an airport, or a mall, or in my classroom (well, that’s already kind of happened). All writers should get so lucky.

AND (this is the really cool thing) he’s got a YA daughter, and after he asked me what I do (“I’m a writer, Dude”), he asked me to send her a copy of SKY ALWAYS HEARS ME. So now I have his card and his address and his daughter’s name (Annabelle). How great is it that I get to send MY book to The Dude’s daughter?

Now she’s the one someone should write about. Can you imagine the kind of stories she can tell? She’s probably so sick of The Dude (not her dad, The Dude, unless her dad can’t get out of character) she can barely stand it.

Small world. Cool world.

Tags: characters

I have purposely been avoiding the hype that has been Michael Jackson’s death, but every time I see a musical clip of him (not so much anything else, just musical clips), I am seriously whelmed over with sadness (that’s what my family says instead of “overwhelmed”). And truly? I wasn’t expecting that reaction at all. Not that I participated in MJ Mania when I was in middle school (when he was ginormous), but his contributions to the world of music can’t be underestimated. Was he bigger than Elvis or the Beatles, as people are arguing? Who knows, and who cares? Elvis, the Beatles, MJ--all changed the music world, and that’s fine with me.

I know, I know--he might have been a child molester. I will not dishonor those who might have been abused by him. But I also honor the talent he had, and the sadness he possessed. MJ was one troubled dude, and was a mixed blessing to our world. Nevertheless, I have shed a tear or two while watching him on YouTube.

In case you’re interested, here’s an unusual one, with him and Janet: “Scream.” LOVE the visuals, and the old MJ is there, even if his old face isn’t. If you want something classic, try “Don’t Stop ‘Till You Get Enough.” His smile is so damn genuine! And because my secret ambition is to be a dancer, watching him is awe-inspiring. Watching him with Janet is even better. And even Mr. Boy agrees the Moonwalk is pretty amazing, and all he knows of MJ is the child molester stuff. He’s even asked me to listen to MJ with him.

It is odd for this music nerd to imagine a world without MJ. Not that we were close, but he was a great. Thank you, King of Pop, for “Thriller” (thanks, Quincy Jones) and everything else. Rest in peace, unhappy dude, best dancer in the universe.

Tags: characters

So yesterday we’re driving along to soccer practice, and this woman on NPR starts telling us about the 3 literary father characters she’s picked to highlight for readers, since we’re so close to Fathers’ Day (is it Father’s Day? It probably is. But it should be plural---there are nine zillion fathers out there). Who did she pick?

Atticus Finch--he’s the good father, from TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD (my friend Kristin’s favorite book in the universe). He and Scout learn about prejudice/racism, and they fight it. Excellent.

Jack Torrance--he’s the bad dad from THE SHINING, or the Good Dad Gone Awry, so to speak, made worse by Jack Nicholson’s indelible film images. Fair enough. Drinking crazily while residing in an insane hotel (while working on your novel, don’t forget that!) will send anyone over the edge.

AND . . . this really surprised me . . .

Vladek Spiegelman--he’s the in-between dad from MAUS, the most excellent graphic novel ever ever ever. I didn’t get to hear her reasoning (damn soccer practice), but my thought is this: Vladek loves Artie, his son, so he does his best to relate his horrific survival tale within the Holocaust so Artie may document it in an incredible way (Artie/Vladek are real people, and this is a true story) and eventually win a Pulitzer Prize for it. As he is doing this difficult and loving task, Vladek is also miserly, rude, racist, and a general pain in the ass. Artie loves Vladek, too, but their relationship is uneasy, to say the least. The struggle seems representative of fathers/sons in general, but it includes the awful tension of one of the worst events in history. Through it all, they manage not to give up on each other---even when they want to.

Happy Father’s Day, to literary dads and real dads everywhere. Being a dad is not an easy job.

Tags: characters

I gave a presentation today for some K-12 teachers. In the course of that conversation, I talked about how I was the kid who WANTED to have the 12-inch spiked pink mohawk but didn’t, because 1) there was no space for individuality in my home town, and 2) I had no idea how to claim who I was---namely, the kid with the big pink mohawk. I didn’t know until I went to college that there were other personas/looks available to me besides “late-80s Midwestern girl,” and if I chose to look a little unusual, PEOPLE WOULD STILL TALK TO ME. Radical!

Even though I’m old(er) on the outside, I still want the pink mohawk, because that’s how I still feel inside. That’s why all my characters are sort of “stick it up your ass” types---in one way or another they’re who I wanted to be in high school, because they don’t keep all their subversive thoughts inside. I think folks currently high school feel a little more free now--at least the kids in this town do. But they also don’t live in the middle of Central Nowhere, where it’s 50 miles to the nearest Target. Not much freedom in Central Nowhere.

Later on in my presentation, after we’d gone on from the hair conversation, a teacher looked at me and said, “well, you have an invisible pink mohawk. You know it’s there. That’s what matters.”

And she’s right, I do. Intellectually and emotionally, my pink mohawk keeps growing. But actual pink hair may be in the works for 2009. It’s about time, don’t you think?

Tags: characters, philosophy

UPDATE: Anton Chigurh is as brilliant on paper as he is on screen. But I didn't have to imagine him much--the bad thing about seeing the film before you read the book.

My next two projects have guy protagonists. It's a new thing for me. Well, that's not entirely true. Gabe, my protagonist in BEAUTIFUL MUSIC FOR UGLY CHILDREN, is a guy, but he's a different kind of guy. There's at least some girl culture in him (cultural influences for girls), because he was raised as a girl, even if he's got a guy brain. However, these next dudes have all the cultural training guys need (or don't, depending on who you ask). Could be tough.

But it will be as great as it will be tough. I love guys--as human beings, not just as a straight woman who loves guys (one guy these days). They appear simple, but their complexities are endless, and they're big fat chickens when it comes to sharing those complex minds/hearts. I like the stereotypical things--like when they fix and build, and when they watch sports (especially football, but I turn into a guy for football). I love their strength. I love their decisiveness. I love their tenderness. I love their action instead of talk. I even love their arrogance sometimes, because it's fun to watch them find out they're wrong. Was that mean? Probably so. I'll say it again--some of this is stereotypical, but there are truths contained in stereotypes.

These traits are even more endearing when they're exercised by 9- to 20-year-old guys trying to find their way in the world. It's a trick to teach a boy (like the one who lives in my house) when it's good to use the word "penis" instead of "doodle" (thank you Homer, Bart and THE SIMPSONS MOVIE, you spider-pigs). It's more of a trick to teach him that's it's all right to cry. Culture is really mean to guys sometimes.

What's on my reading list, to absorb guy characters? THE SCHWA WAS HERE, Neil Schusterman (possibly the coolest title ever, especially if you're a nerd who knows what a schwa is). The YA by Nick Hornby, can't think of its title. A reread of THE ABSOLUTELY TRUE DIARY OF A PART-TIME INDIAN, Sherman Alexie's National Book Award YA. BE MORE CHILL, Ned Vizzini. I'll probably reread John Green's LOOKING FOR ALASKA and AN ABUNDANCE OF KATHERINES too. There will also be lots of sitting around and watching guys this summer, never a real hardship and always good for a laugh. Here's my favorite oveheard quotation from a twelve-year-old guy: "I stopped eating paper when I started eating more for breakfast."

Who wouldn't want to write for people like that?

Tags: characters

An update--I thought for a long time about Anton Chigurh and Sweeney Todd, and despite what I said about violence and what I'm teaching my kid, I eventually came to the conclusion that I just plain didn't like Sweeney Todd, at least Johnny Depp/Tim Burton's version. Anton Chigurh is my dude. I haven't liked an on-screen character that much since Ralph Fiennes became Voldemort.

I'm going to read NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN this summer, to see if Chigurh is as brilliant on the page as he is on screen. I'm betting so.

Does this mean I'm not still wondering about violence and what I'm teaching my kid? Of course I am--but I've decided to own my likes and dislikes as well. Then the question arises: is it bad to like a killer? A very elegant, eloquent, simple but badass character who happens to be a killer? I don't know the answer to that question.

But I still don't think I can go for Dexter the serial killer. That's too far, good character or not.

Tags: characters