The schoolchildren of Omaha, Nebraska have been warned. I can now sleep well, knowing the many evil plans of the many sinister cows of Nebraska will fail. The children of elementary schools Ackerman, Manchester, and Reagan listened as I described the many dangers of Aerwiar, showed them the maps, read chapters from On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness and North! Or Be Eaten, and answered many questions about Gnag the Nameless, Peet the Sock Man, cave blats, and, yes, toothy cows (woe!).These school visits are not only delightful to me, they're necessary to insure the protection of the world's children from the terrors of Glipwood Forest, the Black Carriage, General Khrak, and--You get the idea.There are a lot of reasons I love to do this. I love the interaction with these wide-eyed students. I love how seriously they take stories. I love the way they gasp at certain pictures and giggle at others. I love the pictures they draw of their favorite parts of the Wingfeather Saga. But this time around, the thing I'm most thankful for is the reminder that there's an audience for these stories. It's easy to forget. When I'm writing I'm usually in a coffeeshop, huddled in the corner with my headphones on, listening to some movie soundtrack (this time around it's James Newton Howard's score to The Village). The characters move and breathe first in my imagination and then on the page. We go on this adventure together, the characters and I, and when it's all finished I send the story off to the publisher to turn it into a book. Then I wait. And wait. The book releases and is shipped across the country, and still I wait, because it takes a little while to read a book.Then, through the miracle of imagination and the written word, my characters are no longer living just in my own mind. They've taken up residence in the minds of all these readers. When I visit a school and interact with the kids the circle is complete. I have sent the story out and the story has come back to me. I remember that art is not just for the artist, but for the recipient too. The blessing comes when stories intersect. Confluence.Next week I'll be in that same coffee house with my headphones on, but I'll be writing with the memory of this weekend fresh in my mind, eager not just to write the story but to share it with someone. One 4th grade girl asked, with concern etched on her face, "Will the Igibys be okay in the end?"I hope so. I can't wait to tell her all about it.AP
