ND Wilson Reveals the Contents of an Unexplored Cupboard and Answers a Couple of Questions!
From the Diary of Richard Hutchins, post:
[Lab/Knoss/Alt Pas. back 4M?]
I admit, Anastasia, my nerves are tingling like tin soldiers. But I will do it.
And now, ND Wilson answers two of my pressing questions. For a more thorough interview, check out Mundie Moms and A Fort Made of Books.
I've read a considerable amount of children's literature, fantasy especially, and there are so many unique qualities to your writing that I admire, however, one aspect that stands out in my mind are the very visual descriptions of the injuries and the physical suffering your young characters endure. This is something that I have not noticed, to this extent, in other fantasy books written for young adults. As a woman and a mom, I cringe and gasp for your characters but as someone who appreciates great literature, I think it makes your characters seem more real and the story seem more immediate. (I mean, really, when you go up against evil forces, someone is going to get hurt...)
Is this quality of your writing conscious on your part, or is it just the way your mind works? And, do you ever feel like you are being too graphic in your descriptions?
It is a conscious decision, but it is probably also how my mind works. The fiction I most enjoy engages with as many of the five senses (and a couple extra) as possible, and as much of the time as possible. Obviously, you can’t just go on and on about physical sensation, but when you do appeal to it in description, the story becomes far more real for the reader. It’s more absorbing, it’s more moving, and I think it’s more honest (and less dangerous). I had friends in school who actually jumped off the roof of their two-story house with pillow cases as parachutes. Why would they get hurt? Telling and teaching kids that they can do anything and overcome any evil without paying any physical price themselves (as a lot of stories do) doesn’t actually help them. My favorite heroes growing up were those who did the right thing (and overcame) regardless of the personal cost. But, I have to admit to a more superficial justification as well—it’s just more exciting that way.
Do I ever feel that I’ve been too graphic? Sure. But I deleted all those parts. Ha.
How did you choose the dandelion as the symbol of Henry's magical attributes, his power?
I wanted Henry’s strength to be something unexpected and not at all powerful (at first glance). I wanted him to be resilient, unquenchable not unbreakable. He can be crushed and beaten, but leave him nothing more than a sidewalk crack, and he’ll pop up again, just as golden as before. The dandelion is infuriatingly persistent—good luck getting rid of them—the perfect frustration to more intuitively powerful enemies. Symbolically, it also pictures a terrific resurrection. It doesn’t grow strong and then drop acorns. It dies in a frenzy. It burns up in its own fire and goes to ash. Out of its ash, its strength is multiplied in rebirth. Of course, it also helps that the dandelion is a weed. It’s lowly, but it’s still sweet and full fire. I like my lawn green and smooth, sure. But I have to admit, I love it when it’s full of bursting gold.
You can discover the contents of other cupboards or read other interviews with ND Wilson at these sites:
On 2/10/10 you can visit The Reading Zone for ND Wilson's thoughts on the life cylce of a writer.
On 2/11/10 you can visit Eva's Book Addiction
On 2/12/10 you can visit Fireside Musings and Becky's Book Blog