After a tough day out at the ball field, this girl can't wait to read what Squid and Amanda are up to next...

Wild Grapes is now available on Kindle. Click on cover below to be taken to Amazon.com.

It was about 2 years ago when I was sitting in my big old stuffed chair listening to Bob Dylan warble through my very old and musty speakers, when two little ones approached - my daughters, as it were. Wide-eyed, a little apprehensive, they began to stammer, utter in soft whispers something quite important, I could tell.

"Yes, what is it?" I asked them.

"We want you to write a book," my oldest one said bravely.

"A book?" I asked, puzzled. "I'm writing several books."

"No," she went on, her face determined. "Not your kind of book - the kind nobody reads. A book for us. A kid's book."

"Ahhh..." I sighed. "I see."

"Will you?" the little one said, a hopeful smile.

"I'm not sure," I answered. "You see, I've got so many others going on. I'd love to. I just don't know when I'd fit it in."

"Yeah," said the older one, "but this one would be good. People would actually read it."

"Right," I nodded slowly, looking at them both. "Can you tell me, girls, what kind of kid's book should it be?"

They shrugged, looking at each other blankly, and shuffled off.

I chewed on their suggestion for a while. I wanted to write them a book - I'd written a few stories for them already - the idea intrigued me. Yet, I didn't know when I'd find the time.

About a week later I was again in my big stuffed chair, a cloud of dust swirling about me, Buddy Holly bouncing off my eardrums, when they re-approached.

"Hi, girls," I said cheerily.

"Well?" the older one said, her brow furrowed.

"Well?...Well, what?" I asked her.

"Did you start yet?"

"Start what?"

"The book. Did you start it? What's the hold up?"

"Uh..." I stammered. "Uh..."

"See," my younger one said, her head dropped like a wilted wildflower, "I told you he wouldn't do it."

After picking my heart up off the floor, I decided then and there that I'd do it. I had some vague notion about what kind of book to write - I wanted a book based on simple things. The things that surrounded me every day experiencing life with and through my daughters. I wanted a book that slowed down enough to marvel in the details. A throwback kind of book. A book that revelled in summertime.

The question remained, however: What kind of book should it be? What tone? What audience? I didn't want a cute book. I knew how smart my girls were. Most books they read dummied down ideas, themes, interactons. I didn't want any of that - which was part of my initial hesitation. I have to feel comfortable when beginning a new book, and I didn't yet feel it.

Then one day I was in the car driving, listening to an old interview Terry Gross had with Maurice Sendak. He was describing how he wrote, and the way in which he developed a book. He said that he didn't think of his books as children's books per se. He just thought of them as books, with themes, ideas, and stories, that happened to be geared toward children. I figured that was it - I wouldn't write a "kid's book." I'd write a book, the way I normally write, but about the things kids experience.

Although Wild Grapes is a work of fiction, I wanted it to be a personal book. I wanted my girls to contribute as much to it as they could. So, I often had them sit with me - we'd brainstorm about ideas, scenes, even names. The name Squid Flower Pants came from my daughter - she just blurted it out one day - and from then on the main character had a name. I tried, nearly without exception, to incorporate anything they suggested into the story. The talking snake was my idea, but making it have pink fur, well, that was all them.

One aspect I felt very strongly about, was that the voice of the narrator reflect the spirit of a pre-teen. That it wasn't some adult talking about their perception of a kid's world, but rather one of them talking about it. I wanted a rambling, near stream-of-consciousness flow for the voice - not careful, not typical. Thus, the voice of Squid was born. As for the allusions - I wanted her speech not only to be colloquial, but to have a deadpan wit about it, a smartness so vast that often she is unaware of what she is saying - her phrases and references coming unwillingly from hearing her dad, Uncle Bruno, Miss Mary. It's a tether back to previous generations, a patchwork of how we got to this point in our history - particularly in pop culture, which is where kids first get exposed to key cultural events anyway. Whether some kid's interest is piqued and he googles Bob Dylan, or the Apollo moon landings, or James Cagney - that wasn't the primary aim. Exposing this generation to a few crucial touchstones in American history - if only in passing reference - that was enough.

Another stylistic element - the plot - was something I decided upon immediately. Since the book was a realistic depiction of everyday occurrences in the life of pre-teens, I thought it would be out of place to have an overly tight, structured plot. I'm not a fan of such plots as it is, but especially in a story like Wild Grapes - it just wouldn't fit. Life isn't so structured, so why should a story be? The rambling nature of the plot mirrors the rambling voice of Squid - and both reflect what a kid perceives to be the endless, free-flowing days of summertime.

So I began, working mostly in my back room, averaging two pages a night. I knew that if I wrote two pages a night, I'd be done with the first draft in about six months. Sometimes I wrote in the waiting area at the Y while my daughters had swim practice. Other times, when the weather improved, I'd hoof it to the park and write beneath the big, gangly walnut trees. Distractions weren't a problem because I knew this story inside and out - not each detail necessarily, but the moods, the voices, and the kids. It took about eight months to complete. Twenty drafts later, some back and forth with my editor, and what started as a paternal duty ended up being a real gift.

This book has big truths in it. They're not my creations - I was nothing more than a scribe, putting down what was right there in front of me. For this reason I can and do take credit for the flaws found within, but must defer to them for any poignancy or wisdom or revelations to be gained. This book is theirs.