“School Library Journal” article: complex subjects in children’s nonfiction

Betsy Bird writing for School Library Journal asked me and fellow authors including Candace Fleming, Chris Barton, Deborah Heiligman, and Carole Boston Weatherford some trenchant questions on an important topic: addressing mature subjects when writing true stories for young readers.

That topic has long been of interest to me [see my many posts with the tag “nonfiction”], so I would have participated even if Betsy had not used the phrase “successfully discussed subject matter that no one else has ever dared to consider.”

Here’s the collected insight. Thank you again, Betsy, for covering this.

And here is some of the content from my interview that is not in the article:

The through line of my nonfiction is high-profile hook plus mystery in the background. Everyone knows Batman. Few [even among comics geeks like me] knew the full tragedy of his “secret” co-creator. Everyone knows that the Japanese attacked the U.S. at Pearl Harbor in WWII. Few knew that the Japanese also bombed the mainland.

 

But that hook/mystery combo alone isn’t enough—to sustain it, you need drama. Yes, Batman is absurdly popular, but that doesn’t mean that his creation can sustain a book. At school visits, kids clamor “Do a book on the Flash! Do Black Panther! Do Deadpool!” [Yes, some second graders have seen that R-rated movie.] But sometimes a character [or an invention, or an idea] is conceived without friction by a person at a desk. That won’t fill 32 pages. For me, no suspense means no go. Bill the Boy Wonder, however, involved betrayal.

 

And that betrayal involved something I hadn’t seen in nonfiction picture books: a singular “villain.” Often in biographical picture books, the antagonist is a group—Nazis, intolerant white people, men [in books about misbehaving women making history]. In Bill the Boy Wonder, artist Bob Kane, while not full-on evil, lies and mistreats his professional partner, writer Bill Finger. A friend becomes an enemy. You root for Bill—and against Bob. That dynamic gave me delicious grist. Thirty Minutes Over Oregon also had an element that felt new to the format—redemption. An enemy becomes a friend.

 

These stories are not about household names or famous incidents. And they have an underlying darkness to them. Therefore, they were not easy sells to publishers. I find that paradoxical—we well know that kids are drawn to stories with edge. They can handle glimpses of the complexity of the human condition. I feel we need to push kids a little.

 

As I research, I build a list of essential moments to include as well as moments that are like ice cream toppings—I don’t need them, but they’ll make a sweet story sweeter.

 

You can tell with almost scientific accuracy that certain details will be irresistible to kids [and adults!]. Boys of Steel—young Jerry Siegel is so excited to tell his friend Joe Shuster about the character [ahem, Superman] he dreamed up overnight that he doesn’t take off his pajamas but tugs clothes on over them and runs nine blocks to Joe’s apartment. Bill the Boy Wonder—Batman’s cringey initial design [red union suit, stiff wings]. Thirty Minutes Over Oregon—a Japanese naval pilot bringing a 400-year-old samurai sword on every mission for good luck. Fairy Spell— nine-year-old Frances and 16-year-old Elsie claiming fairies emerged only when no adults were around.

 

I strive to write up at kids to show them I respect their intelligence. Part of that is not shying away from unpleasantness. In Thirty Minutes Over Oregon, aimed at upper elementary and older, I mention seppuku—ritual suicide—a single time. [That was a stated reason for at least one of the rejections.] Obviously it’s a highly sensitive topic, even though no character follows through, but it’s relevant to establish the severity of the WWII-era Japanese military sense of honor.

 

In Fairy Spell, Frances and Elsie lie about photographs they take of what they claim are real fairies. But when you factor in the larger context of the story, they don’t seem like liars. The reason they lie in the first place is understandable; I’d argue their “crime” is victimless. A big reason they keep up the lie, revealed at the end, is surprisingly touching.

 

It’s often said that kids need to see themselves in books, which of course is true—but it’s not the only imperative. Kids also need to see characters in books who give them something to aspire to. Or who show them behavior to avoid.

 

Some kids may feel momentarily disillusioned to learn that some adults do icky things to each other, like take credit for something good that they didn’t actually do. Many kids who read Bill the Boy Wonder react indignantly to the way Bob treated Bill—and some fault Bill for not speaking up enough in his own defense.

 

Yes, yes, a thousand times yes! We want these reactions!

 

When kids decry injustice, it gives hope that they will go on to fight injustice on some level. When kids hold the de facto “hero” of a story at least partly accountable for his own fate, that helps them realize that they must hold themselves to the same standard. In other words, when you’re wronged or mistaken, don’t wait around for a hero to save the day. Instead be the hero. Or, more precisely, be the one who tries to improve a situation, hard as that will be sometimes.

 

When kids learn that the duo who created Superman were awkward teens who endured 3.5 years of rejection for their idea, it may inspire other young people [or awkward people of any age] to also try to overcome adversity.

 

When kids learn that a soldier who attempted to bomb civilians as part of his wartime obligation later felt remorse and apologized to those civilians—and they accepted his apology—that is a lesson wrapped in a lesson sprinkled with yet more lessons.

8/27/25 addendum: Here is the extended edition of all of the interviews.

Top five nonfiction picture books of the year

Seventy-seven years ago today, the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor in Hawaii, bringing America into World War II. Less a year later, the Japanese pilot Nobuo Fujita bombed Oregon twice in three weeks.

This week, educator Colby Sharp kindly included my book about that incident, Thirty Minutes Over Oregon, on his list of the year's top five nonfiction picture books. (He also did a lovely book talk on it a few months ago.)

Thank you again, Colby, and thank you to readers who have taken a chance on Nobuo's story. Congrats to the other books being recognized!

Especially proud of this debut nonfiction picture book author

In October 2017, I heard from Laura Dershewitz, a friend-of-a-friend who was inspired by a recent obituary to try to write a nonfiction picture book for the first time. I stammered out some halfway incoherent advice and wished her luck. 

It was just announced that she and her writing partner SOLD THE BOOK. See what can happen when you just go for it? 

Congrats Laura Dershewitz, Susan Romberg, and Meghann Rader! I can't wait to read about the self-cleaning house...and not just because I'm a neat freak.

The years of a story

Biographies are not life stories. They are stories from a life. They don’t include all. And they don’t always go from birth to death. Sometimes they start before birth and/or end after death.

I surveyed my nonfiction picture books (two out, two upcoming) to determine the dates they span (not counting the author’s notes). The start year correlates with what is happening on page 1, even if the story flashes back at some point.

• Boys of Steel: The Creators of Superman—1930-1940 (both approximate)
• Bill the Boy Wonder: The Secret Co-Creator of Batman—1933-2012 (Bill Finger was born in 1914 and died in 1974)
• Thirty Minutes Over Oregon (2016)—1942-1998
• Fairy Spell (2018)—1917-1988

My 1991 college paper on “The New Yorker” magazine

I discovered The New Yorker (specifically the cartoons) when I was in high school (specifically in the waiting room of my dentist’s office). Like most teenage boys, I got a subscription and hung some of the covers on my bedroom walls. I did not read any of the articles. That awareness would come later.

 

For Chanukah my senior year, I got this coffee table book and swam through it for hours:

(I still have it. And got my daughter her own copy.)

In college, I took a course on the history of journalism. I wrote one of my papers on the New Yorker. I remember being surprised that there were books about a magazine. Though the paper was originally ten pages, double-spaced, it seems shorter here. In any case, it is a fascinating story, even more so if you are a grammar geek.

The Century of the Comma Man: The Journalism of Harold Ross’s New Yorker

December 4, 1991
AMST (American Studies) 137B
Professor Whitfield

Harold W. Ross, founder and editor of The New Yorker from 1925 until his death in 1951, once found out that a writer who worked for him, James Thurber, had done an impersonation of him at a party. Ross called Thurber into his office and growled, “I hear you were imitating me last night, Thurber. I don’t know what the hell there is to imitate—go ahead and show me.” Ross was a man who was so intriguing that he was ripe for imitating; the same can be said for his magazine, which has, inevitably, outlived its creator. An imitation lends itself to a definition, and a definition of the style and the appeal of the New Yorker is as complex as Ross himself.

The periodical that debuted on February 21, 1925 consisted of—and still consists of—that which “is commonly called sophisticated.” However, as many a New Yorker employee has noted over the years, the admirable level of sophistication towards which Ross intended to strive was in direct contradiction the actual level of worldliness he himself possessed. He was aware, and not ashamed, of this fact. As editor he felt his job was “encouraging people more talented than he to do their work better than they had hitherto known how to do it.” He combined a nurturing stance with a mildly belligerent one in a system that has been dubbed “benign despotism.” This is not to say that he was an ineffective editor; in fact, Ross “dearly loved a superlative,” and they were frequently used to describe him. Thurber said:

There were so many different Rosses, conflicting and contradictory, that the task of drawing him in words sometimes appears impossible, for the composite of all the Rosses should produce a single unmistakable entity: the most remarkable man I have ever known and the greatest editor.

It is interesting that Thurber revered Ross in a way that almost rendered Ross indescribable to him, particularly because, as Ross attested, “Nothing is indescribable.” Alexander Woollcott called Ross “the best editor in the world.”

Compliments were paid to Ross in strange ways. Many comments started off as insults, but before the sentence was completed, they had somehow turned into the most sincere forms of flattery. Ogden Nash reported, “He was an almost impossible man to work for—rude, ungracious and perpetually dissatisfied with what he read; and I admire him more than anyone I have ever met...” John Duncan Miller, in less than a half-hour after meeting Ross, revealed, “I felt that Ross was the last man in the world who could edit the New Yorker. I left there realizing that nobody else in the world could.” Harpo Marx’s character study worked in reverse: “I loved Ross, he was wonderful company and his friendship was warm and personal. It was always a wonder to me that such an unworldly man could originate and edit the sophisticated New Yorker.”

Ross set out to produce a magazine with a “chatty, informal quality.” He wanted to avoid serious issues; he equated the word “serious” with “grim,” and the New Yorker was to be anything but. Subjects he dismissed as unprintable were anything of an arty, literary, or (gasp!) intellectual nature. Perhaps the only exception was humor; the humor of the New Yorker was permitted to be intellectual, and most times, it was. In fact, on many occasions artists submitted cartoons that were beyond Ross’s level of comprehension. Part of the reason that the jokes of the cartoons often escaped Ross was because he was so meticulous in his portrayals in the magazine; he allowed no “indirection or physical implausibility in the text” and “exercised a similar strictness in respect to drawings.” His literal-mindedness blocked his capability to accept slightly eccentric ideas; unfortunately, cartoons depend on such eccentricity, and usually are not funny without it. Overheard at the Players Club, a man supposedly said, “[Ross’s] mind is uncluttered by culture.” An enlightening anecdote corroborating this claim: one day, he asked, in complete sobriety, “Is Moby Dick the whale or the man?” Ross was a cunning, concerned man in terms of the content of the New Yorker; arguably, his sensibilities tapered off after that.

Ross was an organizational maestro; he insisted on nothing less than a flawlessly prepared magazine every week, no exceptions. The first two years of publication were confusing and financially disappointing, and ultimately were instrumental in Ross’s thrust to improve the efficiency and clarity of everything. (Although the New Yorker was the “outstanding flop of 1925,” it was “the only flop that kept on going.”) The principal tactic that Ross adopted to insure that there would be no mistakes was his overhauling of the checking department. One worker there once quipped, “If you mention the Empire State Building in [the magazine], Ross isn’t satisfied it’s still there until we call up and verify it.” Ross was notorious for accuracy; perhaps this explains his passion for facts over fiction. If a piece of information was factual, it was accurate, according to Ross.

The Rossian crusade for perfection was nearly synonymous with the Rossian preoccupation with punctuation. He shuddered at the staggering overuse of the words “little” and “pretty” for modification: “the building is pretty ugly and a little big for its surroundings.” Meanwhile, he was also known for his frequent insertion of phrases like “and such” and “otherwise” in copy to “achieve ease.” The biggest gripe that both he and his successor, William Shawn, had with respect to grammatical impeccability was the elusive comma. When questioning a particularly enigmatic application of a comma in a writer’s work, Shawn, a reserved and conservative yet brilliantly creative man, was likely to suggest that maybe the comma was not the mark that would best serve to convey the meaning of the sentence, although his gentle manner implied that he realized “what a lot of time and thought [had] gone into the comma.” Predictable were the days when Ross would barge into a writer’s office “deeply worried by the state of the world, or a comma, or something...” Typically, if it had to be one or the other, the New Yorker featured an excess of commas as opposed to using them sparingly (or, at the very least, only when appropriate). An English journalist once said that an apt title for Ross’s autobiography would be The Century of the Comma Man.

Since Ross’s goal was to provide his readers with a periodical of the highest quality, it would be helpful to indicate exactly what Ross did think of his readers. The New Yorker was meant to attract upper class, affluent customers who would be satisfied with the clever folly Ross wished to print. He got nervous not when the circulation plummeted, but rather when it thrived. Oddly, he felt that he could have too many followers. The readers were “diffident about writing letters”; no matter—the New Yorker would not print them anyway. Ross assumed that the potential letter-writers “[had] reached a level of sophistication...that [caused] them to avoid pressing a personal claim upon an author; they [withheld] the admiration...that less sophisticated readers would be apt to give.” Ross tended to win reader loyalty by approaching them subtly. In a verbose early advertisement seeking subscriptions, it was explained that although most of the paper for the New Yorker came from trees, the material best suited for the work was “an oblong sheet of green paper issued by the United States Government, and bearing the words: ‘Five Dollars.’ From this single scrap, enough paper can be procured to print 52 copies,” and have them subsequently mailed to one’s home.

Duplications (or striking resemblances) in the captions and content of cartoons were prevented by monitoring each new sketch. An office accountant was hired solely to “determine whether a just balance was being maintained” among the fact, the fiction, and all other categories of contributions. Several topics were essentially taboo: blatant sexual reference, profanity (despite Ross’s incessant oral spewing of it), and for a while, controversial or political issues. Ross was “inherently cautious” and shied away from taking stands; gradually, however, he became less rigid in his prohibitions and began to run the “long short story” and war coverage, most notably the expansive John Hersey article on the bombing of Hiroshima. Ross sacrificed his exclusively metropolitan focus when he found the world, including his readers, was changing, broadening. He then claimed, “This isn’t a magazine—it’s a Movement!” The New Yorker, around the time when Shawn inherited it, was poignantly summarized as “a humorous magazine that, holding up a mirror to life, everywhere reflects the darkest shadows and yet manages to make us laugh.” Although Ross was positive that the world was designed for the sole purpose of wearing him down, he still longed to amuse its inhabitants.

For a man short on phone etiquette (he announced who it was by a single, gruff “Ross”) and intolerably long on prejudices (he did not view women, homosexuals, and other minorities in a thoroughly favorable light), he proved to be an endearing and responsive editor who had a genuine interest in his writers’ work. Despite his limp handshake and morbid, “invariable morning greeting”—“One day nearer the grave”—he was an assertive, motivating figure who demanded the very best from authors and rarely got anything less. He cultivated a magazine that really had no definite style because he urged each writer to develop his or her own style, each of which would be welcome in the New Yorker, as long as it was interesting, or funny, or both. His criticisms and opinions, even if volatile, had a way of refreshing one’s knowledge of himself or herself and renewing one’s interest in his or her work. Both he and Shawn were fond and proud of praising the work of any of their writers or artists, thereby restoring the confidence that surprisingly was not characteristic of some of them. The journalistic reputation of the New Yorker was of the utmost importance to Ross, yet he was humble enough to apologize if he pushed someone too hard to meet a deadline or to pursue a story.

Oliver Wolcott Gibbs felt that the average contributor to the New Yorker was semi-literate, and would “use three sentences where a word would do.” He devised a list of 31 Commandments of Editing, New Yorker style. All of them are blunt, and most of them are just as witty as the articles and illustrations of which they are designed to guide. The most notable of them follow: refrain from excessive use of adverbs, do not use alternatives for the word “said” (grunted, snorted), no clichés, no funny names (“Mr. Middlebottom”), do not begin sentences with “and” and “but,” do not write about other writers, do not spell words phonetically for local effect (“trubble”), no triple adjectives (“thin, sweet, gorgeous Melissa”), no awkward division of quotations (“I am going,” he said, “downtown.”), no humor at the expense of a drunk, adulterer, or homosexual, no “vaguely cosmic” last lines (“Suddenly he felt tired.”), no puns, no patronizing or “Godlike” tones, no French unless it is correct French, and “make dialogue sound like talk, not writing.” The very fact that such a list exists (and is no doubt enforced) underlines the idea that everything at the New Yorker is done for a reason, and every fact that is printed has been checked and rechecked. Every paragraph is examined, every sentence is scrutinized, and every word is selected with precision and delicacy.

Ring Lardner said, “I would rather write for the New Yorker at five cents a word than for Cosmopolitan for a dollar a word.” What lofty ideal or sacred tenet did this magazine represent to so many distinguished writers and artists, and why were they attracted to it practically unconditionally? Ross and then Shawn after him set such high standards for the New Yorker, and paid well for work of distinction. Once Ross offered Thurber $70 a week if he wrote anything. Later that same afternoon he phoned Thurber, informing him that the price had been upped to $90 a week. Thurber’s first check was for $100. Ross, a newspaperman then and always, explained, “I couldn’t take advantage of a newspaperman.” Ross’s first major endeavor in the world of journalism was editing the Army newspaper, the Stars and Stripes. Despite his undying love for the New Yorker and the prosperity that it would eventually find, Ross still insisted that the Stars and Stripes was “the only place I ever really enjoyed working.” Judging by the effort that he put into and by the legacy that he left at the New Yorker, it is hard to believe that Ross could have meant what he said.

The impact of Ross’s magazine on America has been astounding; countless forms of journalism flood the newsstands, but only a select few are influential in any significant way. Among other things, the New Yorker was responsible for the switch from colored to white lights in the Empire State Building and for the cancellation of broadcasting commercials in Grand Central Station. The magazine that was created to present a “sharper satiric view of contemporary society than the established humorous magazines” succeeded in cementing a firm cornerstone in the foundation of twentieth century American journalism. Shawn credited Ross for the “literate, observant,...light-handed, timely writing that was to revolutionize the American magazine article.” Although it unmistakably caters to a wealthy clientele, it has matured into a publication that confronts issues of all classes and people in general. Although it was constructed around “the desperate and yet somehow joyous difficulties of ordinary daily New York life,” it has extended its scope to cover the entire world.

Ross “was married three times to women, and once, for keeps, to the New Yorker magazine.” Shawn, when naming those people who had contributed heroically over the years, said, “But at the source, abounding in promise, was Ross.” By January, 1951, Ross had seen many go, and many die. In January, 1951, he said to Thurber, “All of my friends are dead.” Less than a year later, so was Ross. Fortunately, however, his truest friend in the world, and perhaps his truest friend ever, was still alive then, and it is still alive today.

Works Cited

Here at the New Yorker by Brendan Gill, 1975.

The Years with Ross by James Thurber, 1957. 

Cartoons [not posted in full here to respect copyright]

The following cartoons have been taken directly from the pages of the New Yorker and span seven decades, from the 1930s to the 1990s; I was unable to attain cartoons from the 1920s. I did not select them on the basis of their humor. Although most of them here are funny, they were all chosen because I feel that they exhibit the unique wit and style of the magazine, despite the fact that it claims that it does not represent any one distinctive style. Note the recurring themes of selfishness, subtlety, stupidity, arrogance, greed, and superficiality. Most of all, enjoy them.

1930s

(woman to firefighter) Bring down the little blue georgette with the white piqué collar cuffs.

(tour guide to elderly group) It’s a thousand years old, as some of you may recall.

(at newspaper printer) My God! They’ve left off the ‘New York Evening Journal’!”

1940s

(soldiers in a bar) Would you care to step outside and call my friend what you just called me?

(meeting where adman shows sign “Gimbel’s Hates Macy’s”) No, that isn’t quite it yet, Judson. We want something a little more subtle in its approach.

(house in French countryside with tank tracks leading up to it, bumping into it, reversing, and going around)

1950s

(man to another, stuck in traffic) Suppose you try to start my car. I’ll stay here and blow your horn for you.

(boss to couple kissing in hidden spot at company party) You’re fired! You, Preston, that is.

(editor to alien) It’s very interesting, but I’m afraid we only publish science fiction.

1960s

(woman with husband, looking at expensive car, to salesman) We’re just kidding ourselves, thank you.

(man to woman at party) You’re stupid. I like that in a woman.

(man to another holding gun to his own head at roulette table) Watch where you’re shoving that elbow, Mac!

1970s

(waitress to grouch) Let me see if I have it correctly, sir. To hell with the appetizer. A chopped sirloin that damn well better be rare. No goddam relish tray. Who cares which salad dressing, since they all taste like sludge?

(young man to young woman at party) You’re very cute, as am I.

(couples at party) And this is Mr. Kolkov, who...Heavens, Mr. Kolkov, I’ve forgotten what’s interesting about you!

1980s

(businessmen meeting) I would’ve recognized you anywhere, Mr. Davis. You look exactly like your corporation.

Son, you’re all grown up now. You owe me two hundred and fourteen thousand dollars.

(waiter) Is everything satisfactory here—I mean as befits our one little star in the New York ‘Times’?

1990s

“How to Delegate During a Recession”: You’re fired. Pass it on.

(sleazy-looking businessmen speaking in front of plummeting profits chart) But, hey, what is ‘recession’ but a word? And the same goes for ‘money,’ right? And how about ‘human beings’?

(Christmas) It’s a check for a hundred thousand dollars. Do you like it?

(end of paper)

Oh, and now my daughter hangs up New Yorker covers.

But classier, as befits a magazine of its stature—note the frames:

Your life is nonfiction

Some kids think nonfiction is boring.

I don’t blame them. Some adults think so, too, and some nonfiction is boring. Then again, so is some fiction. So why do kids more commonly dismiss nonfiction?

At least part of the reason is that children’s nonfiction was often written without regard for prose. But starting a book with the date and place of a notable figure’s birth is, in most cases, a thing of the past (historically and literarily). Now some readers don’t give writers (nonfiction or fiction) till the end of the first page to engage us. We don’t even give them to the end of the first paragraph. We expect to be grabbed by the first sentence.

We are strict. Or we should be.

Modern readers want writers of any kind of book or article to wow us not only with complex characters and a propulsive plot but also with lyrical language. As I have written here before, it’s not enough to have a good story; you need a good story, well told. (Source: my college film theory professor Tom Doherty.) Nonfiction, like life, is more interesting when it’s nonlinear and unpredictable. Yes, that makes it messier, but messy makes for better drama. Messy is not boring.

Fact-after-fact nonfiction: out.

Narrative nonfiction: in.

So when kids tell me that nonfiction is boring, I ask them what they do first thing Monday morning, in school but before class starts. They all say the same thing: we talk to our friends. I ask about what. They all say the same thing: what we did over the weekend. Then I always say the same thing.

That’s nonfiction.

What you do is a true story. Your life is nonfiction. And if you’re talking about it, you must like nonfiction more than you think you do.

The unpredictable (yet welcome) thing about that is that they see that they agree.

Nonfiction picture book narrative trajectory

I didn’t consciously notice this while writing it, but Bill the Boy Wonder: The Secret Co-Creator of Batman doesn’t follow a traditional nonfiction picture book story arc.

Conventionally it’s this:

• young protagonist finds calling
• slightly older protagonist struggles to pursue calling
• adult protagonist ultimately succeeds

Bill the Boy Wonder rolls this way:

• slightly older protagonist finds calling
• slightly older protagonist struggles to pursue calling
• older protagonist succeeds on one level but dies poor, alone, and unheralded

Described that way, it sure sounds like a bummer of a story. But it has to be, because that is how it really happened. My job is to capture the truth as best as possible, even when that truth is sad. Even when the “hero” loses. For young people, there is, of course, value in that reading about that kind of life trajectory as well. (And there are some fun/inspirational moments throughout.)

Also unusually for a nonfiction picture book, Bill the Boy Wonder ends with the hope (and hint) that the story may not yet be over. I suppose this is what is meant by meta: in doing the book, the real-life “ending” may change.

I’m sure there are other exceptions to the traditional nonfiction picture book narrative arc, though none to come to mind. Do you know any?

Library just for kids…and just for nonfiction

In Florida, commendable parenting is afoot. I caught wind of something unusual and wonderful: a library created to motivate kids to read nonfiction. I caught up with Robin MacDonald, the library director:

What is the Ralphy Memorial Nonfiction Library?

It is our own private children’s nonfiction library that we created in our playroom and dedicated to our beloved dog, Ralphy, who passed away last year. [MTN: Obviously I love this idea and hope it catches on in playrooms everywhere.]

The grand opening was great! We had 18 kids, 5 teachers, and 12 [other] adults. Neighborhood friends and families are welcome! 

What inspired the library?

Abbey, who is in 3rd grade, loves to read, but tends to gravitate toward fiction. Her brother, Jake, is in kindergarten and is just developing his love of reading. I thought it would be wise to expand their interests. Abbey has to take a big reading test at the end of this school year and part of it includes reading different passages and answering questions. Some of those passages are going to be nonfiction and I didn’t want her to be unfamiliar with that type of writing. I love to read as well and recently started The Book Whisperer, which I think has brilliant ideas about children and reading.

How did your kids react when you created it?

They love it! We got bean bag chairs and a new bookshelf and tried to create a space that is comfortable.

What has been their role in the creation?

They decided on the name and made the sign. They have picked out a lot of the titles. We have visited several bookstores (new and used) looking for a variety of titles and they included their own collections as well.

We have labeled all of the books with their AR test number and level and every book has its own envelope and card (old school library system). They had to glue all of the envelopes inside the front covers. They write each library card out for “members” and hand-stamp the due date.

Also, they decided to have a section (unorganized box) for the fiction that we have finished with; it’s called “Free to Good Homes.” They decided on a 10-cent fine for late books and a two-week checkout period.

Do they voluntarily go to this library?

Yes, they love to visit their own library. It has become a competition of sorts between Abbey and Jake as to who has checked out and read the most books.

How many circulating titles do you have?

We have 106 titles, including several of yours and a couple of Shana Corey’s (Girl Scout stories tend to rank highly here). We have all levels from kindergarten to 6th grade. 

What titles have been the biggest hits so far?

Anything about dogs or dolphins have been popular.

If people want to donate books to the library, how should they proceed?

We love donations! They can contact me at robinrmac@earthlink.net and I will give them our address. In return, they will receive a handwritten thank-you note and a library card.

National Council of Teachers of English Convention 2013

On 11/21/13, I returned to Boston, the city of my college years, and for another academic reason: the National Council of Teachers of English Annual Convention, my first.

Given that I came to speak on a panel about writing nonfiction, I felt it apropos that this sign greeted me in the airport:

Thank you to Marfe Ferguson for organizing the panel, and thanks to Roz Schanzer, Sandip Wilson, and Suzii Parsons for participating. I was thrilled with our robust turnout, which at times was standing room only (though that is not acutely evident by this photo taken midway through):

I then enjoyed being an audience member at a second nonfiction panel starring author friends Steve Sheinkin and Deb Heiligman (both of whom I had met previously) and Tanya Lee Stone and Marc Aronson (both of whom I had corresponded with but not met in person before), plus moderator Cathryn Mercier and educator Erica Shipow (who greatly impressed me with her articulate perspectives).

NCTE = nothing cooler than educators!

Bill Finger’s family tree

Here is a family tree for Bill Finger, uncredited co-creator of Batman and star of Bill the Boy Wonder: The Secret Co-Creator of Batman. Now in convenient list format! (Translation: I don't know how to make a family tree graphic.)

Names in blue were deceased before I started my research.

Names in red are people I spoke with.

Names in black are people I have not found...yet.

• Louis Finger (Bill’s father; born 10/20/1890 in Austria, though one source says Russia and another says Poland; died 2/7/1961 in the Bronx)
• Rosa Rosenblatt (Bill’s biological mother; birth/death currently unknown)
• Tessie Stromberg (Bill’s stepmother; born 12/28/1892 in New York; died 3/28/1961 in the Bronx)
• Milton Finger (changed to “Bill” after high school; born 2/8/1914 in Denver, CO; died 1/18/1974 in Manhattan)
• Emily (Bill’s half-sister or possibly cousin; born 10/3/1918 in New York, died 9/27/2018 in Florida)
• Gilda (Bill’s half-sister or possibly cousin; born circa 1920 in New York)
• Portia Finger (Bill’s first wife; born Ethel Epstein 4/21/1920 in Jersey City, NJ; died 1/2/1990 in Manhattan)
• Irene Flam (Portia’s twin sister; Bill’s sister-in-law; died 1993)
• Judy Flam (Bill’s niece)
• Eric Flam (Bill’s nephew)
• Frederic Finger (commonly called Freddie or Fred; Bill’s only known child; born 12/26/1948 in Manhattan; died 2/15/1992 in Brooklyn)
• Edith (later Lyn) Simmons (Bill’s second wife, 1960s; born 10/30/1922, died 5/2/2018 in New York)
• Bonnie Burrell (Fred’s wife, 1970s; died 2/2/2019 in Massachusetts)
• Charles Shaheen (Fred’s roommate and inheritor of Batman royalties after Fred’s death; died 2002 in Manteo, NC)
• Jesse Maloney (acquaintance of Charles Shaheen’s; after Charles’s death, Jesse claimed to be Fred’s brother and received Batman royalties from 2002-2007)
• Athena Finger (Fred’s only child and Bill’s only known grandchild; born 1976)
• Benjamin Cruz (Athena’s only child; born 2002)

"Danger! Dialogue Ahead" article in "Horn Book"

The May/June 2013 issue of The Horn Book includes the first article I have written for that esteemed magazine. It is a variation and extension on thoughts about writing dialogue in nonfiction I first expressed here (and here).

Online:

International Reading Association 2013: nonfiction lives!

That “lives” could be a verb or a noun; we discussed both.

Me, two other cowboys, and two fine cowgirls (AKA Brian Floca, Chris Barton, Meghan McCarthy, and Shana Corey) moseyed on down old San Antonio way for IRA, where we did a panel called “‘But Kids Haven’t Heard of That!’: Why Teaching Unconventional Nonfiction Is Important.”

Moderated by the tireless Susannah Richards, Associate Professor of Education at Eastern Connecticut State University, each of the five authors did a fifteen-minute presentation, then collectively took questions from Susannah and the audience. (Duration of session: 2 hours, 45 minutes. You read that right.)

I was as much an avid audience member as a participant. Adding to my excitement was the fact that I’d proposed the panel—twice actually (it was rejected for 2012)—stocking it with four of my favorite nonfiction picture book writers, not to mention friends.

 Brian Floca, Meghan McCarthy, me, Shana Corey, Chris Barton

Here is feedback on the proposal from IRA decision-makers:

• The panel of authors should draw a big audience.
• Appropriate subject matter for this symposia. The panelists are authors and have significant information to share with the audience.
• This proposal presents a clear evidence base and also is convincing and motivating. The content was detailed and gives a clear idea of what will transpire in the session. The objectives align with the content. This is an excellent proposal.

Here is feedback on the panel from an attendee:

I attended a panel meeting of nonfiction authors. One author in particular, Marc Tyler Nobleman, stuck out to me. … Mr. Nobleman’s book [Bill the Boy Wonder: The Secret Co-Creator of Batman] is a must read. [He] is an excellent storyteller; it’s just, he’s not telling you a story—he’s telling you facts. I have never seen nonfiction this cool and interesting before now.

Panel’s-eye views:

After, as we unwound at the River Walk, another author ally, Erica Perl, joined us. I, however, was the only one who wanted homemade ice cream.

For diehards and readhards, here is the meat of the proposal:

Educational Significance

For some students, nonfiction has a stigma: boring. This is perplexing: why would a true story inherently be less intriguing than something made up? In years past, nonfiction was often written in a dry manner. In addition, there was less risk in subject matter and style.

Today, however, the authors writing nonfiction for young people recognize the dual responsibility they have. First, they must continue to present accurate (and, when possible, new) information. And now, they must do so in an engaging fashion. The marked shift from “textbook” to narrative nonfiction is a considerable benefit for young readers.

In exercising creative freedom with respect to tone, chronology, perspective, and subject matter, contemporary nonfiction writers are boosting the excitement of teachers and kids alike. Such fresh material lures reluctant readers and further stimulates active readers.

We’ve seen an increase in nonfiction picture books described as a “first of its kind.” We’ve seen an increase in picture books subjects that have never been the focus of even a book for adults (The Day-Glo Brothers, Strong Man, Surfer of the Century, Boys of Steel). We’ve seen a rise in the level of sophistication of—and the amount of pages devoted to – back matter. The reason: there is an audience and an educational missive to support it.

Yet with library budgets in crisis, it can be difficult to get unconventional nonfiction into schools—and with test preparation time increasing, educators may struggle to make time to introduce it. In our increasingly blended world, however, it is critical to re-emphasize a diversity of subject matter. (No slight to Benjamin Franklin, Muhammad Ali, Babe Ruth, or the Obamas’ dog, each of whom has starred in multiple picture books.)

This panel may include but is not solely about multicultural subjects. Rather it focuses more broadly on subjects generally not taught in curriculum.

2012 IRA attendee feedback:

• Very appropriate subject matter! Nonfiction needs to be addressed, especially with Common Core being the focus!
• Informational text deserves greater attention, especially unconventional informational text. The panel format will be appealing to the audience. The panelists have valuable information to share. The topic is grounded in literature that is relevant and substantial. I believe this session will be of interest to a broad cross-section of IRA members.

Evidence Base

Forty-five states have adopted the Common Core Standards.

Publishers Weekly (7/18/12): “By the 2014-15 academic year, the initiative calls for 50% informational text (including…nonfiction trade books) in elementary school and 70% in high school-on average, across all curricula. … [A]ccording to the Core: dull-looking nonfiction is out. … ‘Visual elements are particularly important in texts for the youngest students and in many informational texts for readers of all ages.’”

New York Times (3/11/12): “Children in New York City who learned to read using an experimental curriculum that emphasized nonfiction texts outperformed those at other schools.”

School Library Journal (4/1/12): “‘The advent of Common Core presents school librarians with both a great opportunity and a great challenge,’ says kids’ book editor and author Marc Aronson. ‘The emphasis on nonfiction from elementary school on puts them front and center, since few current homeroom teachers know nonfiction in their grades as read-alouds, as pleasure reads, or as opportunities to compare different narrative approaches.”

Horn Book (March-April 2011): Author Susan Campbell Bartoletti writes that in her teaching experience, fiction-reading kids would hold up a favorite book and ask for another like it. But nonfiction readers “wanted to read [books] about things they didn’t already know.”

Jim Trelease, author of The Read-Aloud Handbook, stated that an unconventional nonfiction “panel is a super idea and one that will draw a top audience.”

Increasingly, picture book nonfiction includes an author’s note about the author’s research process—a process that every student must learn in English class. And the best of these authors’ notes read like detective novels.

Sites such as teachwithpicturebooks.blogspot.com promote picture books in the classroom—even in middle and high school. Neither “short” nor “illustrated” automatically makes a book only for young people.

Reading nonfiction capitalizes on existing interests and generates motivation. Reading unconventional nonfiction challenges perspectives and brings fuller, often cross-disciplinary understanding to any historical period.

Reading nonfiction helps to build schema and vocabulary knowledge. Reading unconventional nonfiction empowers students to experiment with topics they may not presume to like or understand, and often enlightens them when they can make a connection between that material and curriculum.

- end of proposal excerpt -

Oh, and circling back to the cowboy theme: the last morning, I was almost trampled by a stampede…of teachers and librarians…headed to a booth for a free bag featuring Superman on one side and (for them) the bigger draw, Wonder Woman, on the other.

IRA 2013: Invasion of Nonfiction Picture Book Authors

Chris Barton.

Shana Corey.

Brian Floca.

Megan McCarthy.

Me. (I am still in alphabetical order this way.)

On 4/21/13, from 3 to 5:45 p.m. (yes, almost three hours!), at the International Reading Association Convention in San Antonio, we five authors, moderated by Susannah Richards, Associate Professor of Education at Eastern Connecticut State University, will panel-discuss the importance of unconventional nonfiction...the stories that are not yet widely known, the people who are not textbook names.

Please join us. This group has never assembled before, and may never again. Therefore—and speaking of nonfiction—history will be witnessed. Unconventional nonfiction will be glorified.

And, of course, books will be signed:

I am signing two more times on Monday 4/22/13: 

• Anderson's, booth 1003, 10-11 a.m.
• Overlooked Books booth, booth 2519, 11 a.m.-12 p.m.

After NPR, Portia Finger’s friend emerges, part 1

In August 2012, after I’d appeared on NPR for Bill the Boy Wonder: The Secret Co-Creator of Batman, I received the following (excerpted) message on Google+ from a man named Dean Badolato:

I was a very close personal friend of Bill's wife Portia Finger and their son Freddie. I knew them from 1970 until they both passed around 1990. I knew through Portia her husband's involvement with Batman but many others neither understood nor believed her story. I am actually quite moved that the truth is out and although the Finger family is no longer with us to share this event, it is still wonderful that justice will lie with the written word. I am so proud to know that someone cared enough to write the truth!

It had been a while since I had “found” anyone “new” connected to Bill Finger—though technically this was him finding me. Either way, I was excited anew. And even though the book is out, I (of course) asked Dean if I could interview him.

In agreeing, Dean wrote “My only regret is that you did not come along 25 years ago when the Fingers could really have used you!”

How did you learn of my book on Bill Finger?

I learned of your book about Bill Finger listening to your NPR interview; I heard you speaking about Bill Finger about whom I thought no one knew anything!

What was your reaction upon learning that someone wrote a book on Bill?

Having been a close personal friend of his wife and son for almost 20 years, I was completely blown away (actually, I almost fell out of my loft bed!) by the news of a book about the real creator of Batman, Bill Finger.

Why did you reach out to me?

I knew through Portia the story of Bill being the original “ghost” writer of Batman and I wanted you to know that I could corroborate all the data I heard on the radio interview and to say what a great thing it was [for you] to have written this book. Being a lifelong theatre/dance artist, I know what it is like not to get credit for work one has created or even helped create in the early stages of a project. And because it [has been] more than 20 years since Portia and Freddie [have] graced our world, I thought it was fantastic that Bill the Boy Wonder had come along.

Did you ever meet Bill? When and how did you meet Portia?

I never met Bill; he and Portia had divorced by [the time] I met her in the summer of 1971 at the old Roosevelt Hospital in New York. I and a large group of professional-level dance students had just arrived from Chicago to make our fortunes in New York. One of our group, Bill Gatewood, happened to be recovering from a diabetic incident and Portia happened to be in the same hospital awaiting surgery for a stomach hernia. While visiting Bill [Gatewood], I met Portia, who had befriended Bill as he recovered. Soon Portia and many of our crowd were friends.  

What was Portia like?

Portia was highly intelligent, literate, and liberally minded. She loved the fine arts: painting, sculpture, literature, and especially dance—and especially classical dance. [My group] were serious ballet performers (I performed for the American Ballet Theatre, Joffrey Ballet, and National Ballet of Washington DC; my brother a choreographer and featured dancer for the Metropolitan Opera of New York). 

Dean in 1977 (and in the air)

Being a lifelong resident of lower Manhattan, Portia was always concerned with state and city events and had a large circle of varied and interesting characters in her life.

She also was the first person of Jewish heritage to educate young naïfs as myself of the realities of the European Holocaust of WWII in a personal and firsthand account from someone who lost untold family members and was hip to all the political realities of those times. She was an avowed atheist who couldn’t possibly accept the notion of a caring God who could allow such profound atrocities to be carried out on so many innocent people. As we used to say in the old days, Portia was a really “heavy” person (and I don’t mean weight-wise); [she was] profoundly concerned with righteousness and justice in society with equal rights for all. 

What did Portia tell you about Bill?

I think Portia felt it necessary to share Bill’s story with us. She told us how he had been the original ghostwriter (using her words here) of the series and that he, she, and Freddie had never up to that time received a penny of royalty or residuals from DC Comics. She described [Bill as] a brilliant and creative thinker but [one who] never stood up for himself and never demanded proper compensation for his work. She also told me personal information about Bill and her marriage which I will only say was difficult. Bill was not good with money, alcohol, or, quite honestly, fidelity.

Did Portia see a difference between Bill as a man/husband and Bill as a writer/creator?

I can only guess. My gut feeling is that she wouldn’t differentiate the two because I think she would have felt that what you are as a person is only going to reflect who and what you are as an artist.

Part 2.

The latest on my picture book “Thirty Minutes Over Oregon”

The quest continues for a publisher for my nonfiction picture book manuscript about a man who flies—but not with a cape. (As was typical for WWII pilots.)

What also continues: praise for that manuscript, called Thirty Minutes Over Oregon (which may be retitled Thirty Minutes Over America).

courtesy of Julia Sarcone-Roach

My determination to bring this story to a wide audience was already sky-high but comments like the following fuel it even more:

“It’s so, so cool, and so moving. In a way, it reminds me of the mega-bestseller Unbroken—but for picture-book readers!” — editor, major publisher

“It’s touching and speaks nicely about ideas of nationalism and patriotism (both here and abroad), and multiculturalism, all in a really interesting way.” — editor, another major publisher

“I am blown sideways, gobsmacked, dumbfounded. What an extraordinarily moving story. It simply must be told. I can’t believe it hasn’t been picked up—that is a travesty! And I love how Marc promotes/pitches it on his blog; why, it’s heroic! His passion for the story is palpable—contagious even. He is a gifted storyteller. This tale zigs, it zags and then…whoosh, it dives and hits!” — writer

“The best argument for continuing to write children’s nonfiction I’ve heard.” — Julie Winterbottom, former Nickelodeon Magazine editor

“The story about World War II, Thirty Minutes Over Oregon, has to be published. I am amazed that the story exists and we don’t know about it. That’s what I mean, his passion is contagious.” — Michelle Haseltine, middle school teacher

collected after my keynote at the Nevada Reading Week Conference (though Thirty Minutes Over Oregon took up maybe 5 or 6 minutes out of an hourlong presentation, it got more feedback than anything else I discussed):

“Very interesting—this is great history no one knows about. I hope it will be published soon.”

“I am interested in Thirty Minutes Over Oregon. Hopefully it will be published.”

“Want to read Thirty Minutes Over Oregon.”

“Especially poignant was the publishing process story of the Japanese [pilot] who bombed Oregon.”

“The Japanese bomber story was amazing.”

“Hope the Oregon book goes public.”

“Loved his story about Thirty Minutes Over Oregon and hope it gets published.”

“Interesting Oregon bombing story!”

“The sad story of a great story not yet finding a publisher.”

This was not specifically about Thirty Minutes Over Oregon but is relevant:

“I loved your book [Bill the Boy Wonder: The Secret Co-Creator of Batman], and your #nerdybookclub post. The more middle grade nonfiction picture books, the better.” — Adam Shaffer ‏@MrShafferTMCE

Boys of Steel: The Creators of Superman is about persistence.  

Bill the Boy Wonder: The Secret Co-Creator of Batman is about integrity.  

Thirty Minutes Over Oregon is about redemption, and that’s a theme I can’t recall seeing in picture book nonfiction.

Will it take flight in 2013?

Batman in the classroom

Embedded within these humbling reactions (most from educators) to Bill the Boy Wonder: The Secret Co-Creator of Batman are some great suggestions for classroom discussion and lesson plans.

Speaking of which, here is the diverse and creative curriculum guide from my publisher, Charlesbridge.



“Eye-opening and quietly tragic … if you asked me what’s one of my favorite [nonfiction picture books] of the past decade, I’d instantly endorse Boys of Steel, Marc Tyler Nobleman’s insightful and engaging account of Superman’s creation. Well, now the multi-talented author/journalist/cartoonist is back with Bill the Boy Wonder, a more-than-worthy follow-up … this new book boasts even more astounding feats of research and also features gorgeous art by Ty Templeton. Quite simply, Bill the Boy Wonder makes perfect summer reading for kids who are into pop culture. Actually, it’s a great read for anyone who’s ever seen the phrase ‘created by Bob Kane’ even if they’re not huge Batman fans; that’s because it’s not just a compelling biography of comics creator Bill Finger but a highly accessible and informative text about comics and comics history generally.”
—Connect the Pop on School Library Journal

Selected comments from The Picnic Basket:

“I love nonfiction biographies and this book is one of the best! Nobleman is a skilled writer … It will be the rare reader who closes the book without being wowed. Nobleman's Author's Note allows the reader to glimpse his research process and it reads like a darn good mystery. What a tribute! What a story! What a book! 5 out of 5 stars”

“The story was so interesting that I couldn’t stop without reading the whole book and I would think students would feel the same way. … This book would be great for classroom discussions. Themes would include writing, struggling, comics, superheroes, design, plots, teamwork, standing up for yourself, friendships, and investigation. There were opportunities to learn new vocabulary throughout the story. 5 out of 5 stars”

“I was delighted when I read this book and immediately gave it to one of my 4th grade students to read. The book is a great opening to talking about civil rights and prejudice and even self-esteem. I would recommend the book to guidance counselors, teachers, and that student who sits doodling at his desk while working. … Excellent use of vocabulary—hightailed, scrawled, potential, intimidating… 5 out of 5 stars”

“I really enjoyed this book and look forward to sharing it with my 6th graders. I will use this book to open my biography unit. It will lead to many discussions about giving credit where credit is due … I really liked how the story was illustrated. It is a book worth sharing. This is a 5 in my basket.”

“Absolutely outstanding in all respects! Definitely can be used in the classroom to introduce biographies. Sure bet to get the attention of the most reluctant reader. Definitely a 5++++++!”

“What a beautiful book! I read it in one sitting. The prose is beautifully written, the pictures are lovely, and the underlying themes of justice and redemption are compelling. I am donating this book to our middle school library and plan to recommend it to the New Mexico Battle of the Books committee as a terrific nonfiction choice. This is a must-have book for every elementary and middle school library that will be gobbled up by avid and reluctant readers alike. 5 out of 5 stars”

“This book is simply amazing. To think I'd actually be glued to a book about the creator—sorry, co-creator—of Batman! I found the story to be completely captivating. I think this book would grab the attention of children and really teach them something along the way. It offers endless opportunities for lessons. Nobleman is a very skilled writer and certainly knows how to find obscure stories and make them completely fascinating. This book deserves nothing less than a 5.”

“This falls nothing short of an exemplar model of juvenile literature. The potential for critical discourse around this book are endless. By the end of the author's note a tear of sadness at the unfairness of it all fell from my eye… And then I started at the beginning again, admiring the cover and reading it from top to bottom. The story has so many cool parallels in the illustrations to support comprehension and add appeal … Nobleman demonstrates that writers need to be curious, determined, and willing to chase what they don't know … That you shouldn't just write about what you know, rather it is most important to have a really good question and go after the unknown … uncover a legacy that was so close to slipping away forever. I can only imagine how much Milton would have loved this book. The next day I asked one of my 5th grade students who loves superheroes … to read it. Almost 40 minutes later he came to me and replied, ‘Milton Finger deserves credit.’ His four words were powerful and insightful. Reading this book changed him a little bit, gave him something he didn't have before, the same way I felt. 5 out of 5 stars”

“Great book with many uses for YA readers. Thanks for a great read. (I had this book and had to share. Too good not to pass along.)”

“I felt privileged to share this book with my students and uncover this special secret with them. I read this biography to my second graders in two sessions. They were mesmerized. How could this happen, they wondered. How can I find out more, etc. The activity guide and discussion questions were a great resource, but I easily fit some of the themes of this book into my current curriculum/lessons that very day! … My students were highly motivated when I connected these lessons to Bill the Boy Wonder. 5 out of 5 stars”

“Fascinating … It is also a lesson on character. Using this book, you can investigate with your students the big idea of fairness … If your students do group projects, this would be a great introduction to how you should collaborate and make sure proper credit is given. This book is also an excellent example of why we need to study history. New information is constantly being unearthed … Bill the Boy Wonder would be a terrific source for a biography project for a reluctant reader. You will want to preserve the cover of this book as many hands will be reaching for it.”

(And a comment under this: “Not just for kids!”)

—NC (North Carolina) Teacher Stuff (and Nonfiction Monday)

“Compelling writing, fantastic art. … In a household where we celebrate the creativity of Jim Henson and Walt Disney and others remembered for their contributions to childhood (and adulthood), this book and Bill Finger will have a special place.”
—epinions user

“Very interesting, even to a pretty reluctant comic reader!”
—Good Reads user

“Perfect for the reluctant reader, Bill the Boy Wonder is a classic story of the underdog. … The book has the potential to empower readers of all ages to take pride in—and ownership of—their work.”
—Young People’s Pavilion on Yahoo! (by Michael Strickland, who writes for The Reading Teacher, the journal of the International Reading Association)

“Whether you're a fan of comics in general or Batman in particular, you owe it to yourself to get this book … fascinating.”
—Books YA Love

Discussion questions for grades 2-6:

• What do you think would have happened if Bob Kane had showed his Batman design, not Bill’s, to the comic book company in 1939?  
• Bill graduated from high school before the first scene in the book, so why do you think the title is Bill the BOY Wonder?
• Describe a project or activity you’ve done with a partner. How did you decide who would do what?
• Do you think what happened between Bill and Bob was fair—why or why not?

Discussion questions for grades 4 and up, after reading Author's Note:

• How do think Bill felt at the end of his life? What about Bob?
• If you were trying to find someone you didn’t know the way the author looked for Bill’s family and friends, how would you start?
• Why it is significant that the author discovered Bill’s granddaughter?
• Why do you think it was important to the author to write this book?
  

Activities:

• Ask half the students to create the name for a character (it doesn’t have to be a superhero). Pair each of them with a student from the other half, who must then design the look of the character based only on the first student’s name.
• Write a story involving an oversized prop.
• Keep a “gimmick book” like Bill did and refer to it throughout the year to inspire story ideas. 
• Write a short play dramatizing a scene from Bill the Boy Wonder and perform it for other students. If you upload it to YouTube, e-mail me immediately!
• Research what non-Batman-related characters Bill also co-created, but without using Wikipedia. 
• Research the history of another fictional character to see if there were any disputes over creation and/or ownership.