I don’t think of Gotham Writers Workshop as an educational institution or even as a school, though we are obviously both, considering our chief activity is offering classes. I just prefer something that sounds more entertaining, perhaps a laboratory of storytelling.

That name conjures mad scientists and fizzy potions and has a bit of pizazz to it.

Whatever we call it, we do help people learn. We’ve been doing that a long time (over 30 years) and we plan to keep on doing it, well, forever.

While re-reading T.H. White’s glorious telling of the King Arthur tale, I was struck by this quote from Merlin the wizard:

“The best thing for being sad,” replied Merlin, beginning to puff and blow, “is to learn something. That’s the only thing that never fails. You may grow old and trembling in your anatomies, you may lie awake at night listening to the disorder of your veins, you may miss your only love, you may see the world about you devastated by evil lunatics, or know your honour trampled in the sewers of baser minds. There is only one thing for it then—to learn. Learn why the world wags and what wags it. That is the only thing which the mind can never exhaust, never alienate, never be tortured by, never fear or distrust, and never dream of regretting. Learning is the only thing for you.”

In this version of the tale, Merlin lives backwards, growing younger every day, coming from a past/future where he has seen the ravages of the 20th century. Which gives him an interesting perspective on things. Having lived in the time of the atomic bomb is reason enough to convince King Arthur that might should not mean right.

And it strikes me that learning makes you both older and younger. Older because when you learn stuff your mind matures in a way. Younger because when you learn stuff you’re increasing the flexibility of your mind. It’s inspiring to watch a child learn something, like those first fumbling attempts at walking or reading, but it’s equally inspiring to watch someone who’s been around a while pick up new tricks, like writing a novel or baking a soufflé.

And that gets me thinking that learning is like a Möbius strip, one of those strips with a half twist that you can trace with your fingers for years and years and never reach the end or the beginning—the way learning makes you simultaneously older and younger. Which is kind of sensational, isn’t it?

What are you going to learn this week? Go on, be ambitious about it. If you fail, that’s fine. Even then, you learned something.

Alex Steele

Gotham President

Hey, this is part of a series on writers who kicked down a metaphorical door with their writing. Like Marie Curie with science and Little Richard with music…

There’s a story I like about a kid riding the subway to visit his mother who’s in prison. It’s a children’s picture book called Milo Imagines the World, written by Matt de la Peña (illustrated by Christian Robinson).

That’s right. It’s a children’s picture book.

Who told de la Peña that he could write a picture book about a kid going to visit his mother in prison? Yes, I know picture books can be sophisticated and layered and a bit dark. But still…

It’s brilliant storytelling. During the subway ride, Milo (the boy) draws pictures of the people he sees and imagines what their lives are like. For example, he sees a smartly dressed boy and imagines he lives a fancy life, but his perceptions are shaken when he sees this boy at the prison, also visiting his mom. Milo realizes first impressions may not be so accurate.

This is what de la Peña does. He writes books about kids who aren’t typically represented in children’s literature. At a conference, a teacher told him her school doesn’t carry his books, good as they are, because their students aren’t like his characters, and de la Peña asked how many wizards attend their school.

Another of de la Peña’s picture books, Last Stop on Market Street (a Newbery medal winner, also illustrated by Robinson), is about a kid riding the bus with his grandmother to help her work in a soup kitchen in a rough part of town, and the kid learns to see beauty in even the most scarred of environments.

De la Peña’s picture book Love, more tone poem than story (illustrated by Loren Long), has a page spread where we see a kid hiding under the piano—the dad looking disheveled, the mom crying, a glass of liquor in sight. The publisher wanted to cut this image, but de la Peña insisted it stay.

De la Peña also writes YA novels, like Ball Don’t Lie, about a foster kid walking the mean streets of LA. Here he is…

I almost forgot to tell you about Sticky… How he keeps his raisin-brown hair cropped close. Faded up on the sides with some fancy-ass clippers he snatched from Macy’s. How he’s long and thin like somebody’s stick figure sketch, scissored off lined paper and Scotch-taped to a basketball court.

The words in de la Peña’s books vibrate with the personality of the people we’re meeting.

Matt used to teach at Gotham and was good enough to be a guest at our last Children’s Book Conference. And, man, he’s a champion to kids everywhere, many of them seeing themselves in a book for the first time.  

Alex Steele,

Gotham President