WELCOME
WILLIAM STEIG
K.A. Nuzum
TAEEUN YOO
PETER H. REYNOLDS
HARRY BLISS
KATE DICAMILLO
JEANNE STEIG
DAVID SMALL
MIKE TWOHY
SARAH STEWART
ROSS MACDONALD
JOAN SLATTERY
KATE MCMULLAN
KATHI APPELT
JEREMY TANKARD
ALISON MCGHEE
SALLY COOK
Kate McMullan - Gorky Lends a Hand
Feb. 07, 2011
I met Holly McGhee in the early ‘90s when she was working with the legendary editor, Michael di Capua, at Harper Collins. One afternoon my husband, the illustrator Jim McMullan, and I came in to meet with Holly and Michael because I was stuck, stuck, stuck writing our third picture book, which eventually became Hey, Pipsqueak!
In the story, our boy Jack, driving a little red car, comes to a bridge guarded by a troll. The troll is a bully. He taunts Jack, demanding booty, and Jack tries to buy passage with the toys he has in his car. I knew I had to get Jack over that bridge, but armed with only toys, how could he defeat the big bully troll in a surprising yet satisfying way?
The four of us tossed around ideas, but for me, the meeting felt unproductive. As we were leaving, Holly suggested that I might want to take a look at William Steig’s Gorky Rises.
I bought a copy. I discovered that Gorky is a frog who sets up a lab in his kitchen and mixes available ingredients to make a magic potion. He takes a bottle of the potion outside to Elephant Rock, “his best spot for doing nothing,” in hopes that the nature of the potion will reveal itself. The potion, as it turns out, makes him rise into the air, and Gorky has a glorious, dream-like ride through the clouds. He survives a storm, is observed floating overhead by his cousin, Gogol, devises a clever way to descend, and lands where he began, on Elephant Rock. The rock morphs into a real elephant. Gorky climbs onto its back, once again passing Gogol as the elephant carries him home.
I loved Steig’s story. On the surface, it had nothing to do with the story I was writing, but Holly had recommended it, so it had to be relevant. Right? Like Dumbo, believing that the feather he held in his trunk enabled him to fly, I never doubted that Gorky would show me the way. Like a Talmudic scholar, I pored over the text, and at last an idea bubbled up.
I had Jack give the troll a balloon. As the troll blows up the balloon, he shrinks until he’s a tiny troll with a giant balloon, and Jack speeds over the bridge, leaving the powerless bully behind.
In the finished book, this sequence ended up with no words at all, yet it inspired one of my all-time favorite paintings of Jim’s.
This art hangs in a prominent place in my office. When I see it, I sometimes think back to Gorky Rises and wonder, did Holly routinely recommend this story to her troubled authors? Or did she have a hunch that the little hero Gorky, with his air-borne adventure, might help our little hero Jack find his way? No matter. The gift worked its magic, and I’m grateful for it.
At best, writing is a mysterious, non-linear process. We mix our potion and wait for our story to reveal itself. Some days, the potion sits there like a lump. Other days, while we wait, Cousin Gogol sails serenely above us. And on a day when we despair that our potion is little better than watery gruel, it turns out we’ve cooked bouillabaisse. I feel so fortunate to work with the Pippins, Holly, Elena, and Joan, who deeply understand and support what goes on down at Elephant Rock.
In the story, our boy Jack, driving a little red car, comes to a bridge guarded by a troll. The troll is a bully. He taunts Jack, demanding booty, and Jack tries to buy passage with the toys he has in his car. I knew I had to get Jack over that bridge, but armed with only toys, how could he defeat the big bully troll in a surprising yet satisfying way?
The four of us tossed around ideas, but for me, the meeting felt unproductive. As we were leaving, Holly suggested that I might want to take a look at William Steig’s Gorky Rises.
I bought a copy. I discovered that Gorky is a frog who sets up a lab in his kitchen and mixes available ingredients to make a magic potion. He takes a bottle of the potion outside to Elephant Rock, “his best spot for doing nothing,” in hopes that the nature of the potion will reveal itself. The potion, as it turns out, makes him rise into the air, and Gorky has a glorious, dream-like ride through the clouds. He survives a storm, is observed floating overhead by his cousin, Gogol, devises a clever way to descend, and lands where he began, on Elephant Rock. The rock morphs into a real elephant. Gorky climbs onto its back, once again passing Gogol as the elephant carries him home.
I loved Steig’s story. On the surface, it had nothing to do with the story I was writing, but Holly had recommended it, so it had to be relevant. Right? Like Dumbo, believing that the feather he held in his trunk enabled him to fly, I never doubted that Gorky would show me the way. Like a Talmudic scholar, I pored over the text, and at last an idea bubbled up.
I had Jack give the troll a balloon. As the troll blows up the balloon, he shrinks until he’s a tiny troll with a giant balloon, and Jack speeds over the bridge, leaving the powerless bully behind.
In the finished book, this sequence ended up with no words at all, yet it inspired one of my all-time favorite paintings of Jim’s.
This art hangs in a prominent place in my office. When I see it, I sometimes think back to Gorky Rises and wonder, did Holly routinely recommend this story to her troubled authors? Or did she have a hunch that the little hero Gorky, with his air-borne adventure, might help our little hero Jack find his way? No matter. The gift worked its magic, and I’m grateful for it.
At best, writing is a mysterious, non-linear process. We mix our potion and wait for our story to reveal itself. Some days, the potion sits there like a lump. Other days, while we wait, Cousin Gogol sails serenely above us. And on a day when we despair that our potion is little better than watery gruel, it turns out we’ve cooked bouillabaisse. I feel so fortunate to work with the Pippins, Holly, Elena, and Joan, who deeply understand and support what goes on down at Elephant Rock.
 |