Is This Wedding Actually Legal? Marty Performs a Wedding.

A long time ago, back when I was in Florida getting all educated up so I could be a teacher, I spent almost all of my free time working as a columnist, illustrator, editor, and art director for a college newspaper. It was, I must stress, A college newspaper. Not THE college newspaper. The newspaper I worked for had its humble beginnings at the official school newspaper. It seems that several of the staff members of the official school newspaper were fired, en masse, for some offense so foul and egregious that I never found out what it was. I have my suspicions, but they are based solely on the machinations of my overactive imagination and have no basis in reality whatsoever. If they were even remotely true, the parties involved would most likely have been deported to another country–possibly another planet–rather than having been simply fired.

So these oppressed workers took matters into their own hands and founded their own paper. A paper devoted to the principal that anybody can make a newspaper.

It was shortly after this schism occurred that I became a staff member on the paper, penning my weekly question and answer column, Mad-Dog:Master of the Universe. the simple premise of my column was that people would write to me with some deep, profound question, like, say...

If Ivory Soap is 99 44/100% pure, what is the other 56/100%?

Or, Are there any foods I can eat or drinks I can drink that will allow me to have total control of the color of my urine?

I tackled these questions week after week with the diligence one would expect of someone who was working for free.

During one of our weekly newspaper meetings, which were held whenever Taco Bell had its Deal of the Week, Randy, one of the staff, let us know that he had recently been ordained as a reverend and offered his services to our blackened souls and those of our readers. We, of course, laughed until cheap Taco Bell burritos sprayed across the apartment (and still remain smeared across the wall to this day, I'm sure).

Upon further reflection, we decided that it may prove an invaluable service to our readers if we could absolve them of their sins. This being one of the myriad powers that Randy claimed to possess since his free, instant on-line ordination in the Universal Life Church. Other powers included officiating at weddings, providing funereal services, and condemning people's souls to eternal damnation. We actually never checked on the last one, but it seemed wisest not to push Randy too far. Thus was born Reverend Randy's Corner of Absolution.

I'm sad to report that the good Reverend never had a single sin submitted to him, the entire campus evidently too mired in goodness and purity to be in any need of his services.

My point in telling you all of this is that I was so awed by Randy's many powers that I, too heard the calling and by simply entering my name in the appropriate fields, became one of the millions of official, real-life reverends ordained by The Universal Life Church.

I had not used my powers for evil or for good until recently when my good friends Tim and Katie asked me to perform their wedding ceremony. I laughed until cheap Taco Bell burritos sprayed across the living room. Actually, not true. It was expensive homemade organic guacamole. My ordination might be connected to Mexican food in some cosmic way.

Once they convinced me that they were serious, I did my best to make them see the foolishness of their request. When that did not work, I actually agreed, hoping they would forget about it and come to their senses in time.

They did not.

They continued to assure me that their desire to have me do this was real and not some delusional fantasy brought on by too much spicy Mexican food or its liquid antidote.

With my options for escape nearly exhausted, I called the NH Secretary of State's office and asked if my online ordination was enough to make their wedding legal. The short answer was, "Yup." The long answer was, "Yup. It sure is. Just make sure you sign the license."

I was going to perform their wedding.

The reason this all worked out is that Tim and Katie are wonderful, laid-back people with, evidently, very low standards and dubious taste. I should qualify that. Very low standards and dubious taste regarding who performs their wedding ceremony. In all other matters, they seem very sane and stable. They did have the good sense to provide me with a script, thus eliminating the very real possibility that I would pepper my oratory with words like 'booger' and 'fart'.

The ceremony went beautifully. The reception was great fun. Now, as long as the Secretary of State doesn't call them on their honeymoon to discuss some "irregularities", they'll be all set.

The Rock and Roll Life with Steve

Last Monday my buddy Steve Blunt sent me an email that asked if I wanted to go for a hike or a bike ride after our show in Franklin on Wednesday.
My first thought, naturally, was, "We have a show on Wednesday?"
I consulted my calendar and found it blank. I consulted my wife and she was similarly blank. As I geared up to write Steve a bitingly sarcastic, witty, hard-hitting response about his apparent inability to use something so simple as a calendar, I checked the letters I had sent out to libraries.
August 5, Franklin Public Library. 12:00.

My somewhat revised, somewhat less acerbic, somewhat more humble email went something like this:
"Sounds good. I'll bring my bike. See you there."

We arrived at the library–a delightful old building that simply dripped with character–and began loading in our stuff. I've been visiting schools and libraries for almost 12 years now and Steve has probably been doing shows for as long. What I am always struck by during our combined shows is how much stuff Steve has. Drums, microphones, horns, guitar, ukulele, CD's, and all the other paraphernalia that make the world of rock-n-roll the glittery spectacle that it is.

I, on the other hand, have some books, some paper, a laptop, and a projector. I need more stuff, I guess. Steve, on the other hand, needs roadies. Instead of which, he has me. For the meantime, and until I get my pyrotechnics all set to go, I will have to live the rock-n-roll lifestyle somewhat vicariously, absorbing and reveling in as much of Steve's reflected glory as I can.

My favorite part of performing these shows with Steve, and he will hardly believe this, is his almost obsessive dedication to getting the set list just right. The songs we play, the stories we will tell, and the order in which they will happen are, to Steve's credit, something I suspect he considers for about 22 hours a day. He loves what he does and wants each show to be perfect.

I love what I do, as well. However, I need to sleep sometimes. Before each of our shows (usually about 2 minutes before the show) Steve will pull out one of the dozens of note pads he has secreted in his belongings and he will show me the set list he has worked up for the day's show. To my untrained and ignorant eye, it will look strikingly similar to the last set list and the one before that and the one before that... But Steve will have made a few tweaks and changes. He will have reasons for the changes and they will always sound reasonable to me, so I blithely agree.

Then the show begins and Steve will have an inspiration. Between songs he will casually walk over to me and quietly tell me that he has just thought of a great addition to the set list. "I'm going to play this new song that I made up last night," he'll say, "I know you've never heard it, and I haven't quite figured out all the lyrics, but I think it will go really well here. Just play along."

Then he will casually walk back over to his microphone and begin playing a song he wrote the night before and I have never heard. He'll smile at me and silently urge me to jump in and start playing.

In spite of the fact that I am a drummer and thus, musically handicapped in the most profound way, I can usually sit there and pound on a drum in a reasonable simulacrum of competence. When the song is over he will then introduce another song, not from our set list and ask the audience to sing along.

These shows, I must admit, are thrilling to me every time. When I do my own presentations at schools or libraries, I use an electronic slide show to illustrate what I am talking about. I love giving the presentations, but they really don't vary all that much from one presentation to the next. I know what I'm going to talk about in advance and what order I will talk about it in.

A show with Steve is like doing stunt performing. In the words of the immortal (yet still somehow dead) Frank Zappa: Anything, Anytime, Anyplace, For No Reason At All.
And it's a lot of fun.

Sometime, I'll tell you about that bike ride, too.


(I just read this post to my son and he walked away saying, "Okay. Lots of big words you used there." I'll include a glossary next time, Alex.)

White Water Madness - sort of...

If you are not from NH, you must know that this summer we have been under some evil voodoo hex. It has caused so much rain that my socks mildewed. Actually, that may be a function of poor hygiene, but the fact remains that this has not been the sunny, bright summer that one likes to reminisce about in one's dotage. More like the gloomy, gray, moist funk wafting out of a high school locker room.

Noisome, intimate bodily functions aside, we did have at least one bright sunny beautiful day just a few short days ago. I jumped on my bike and zipped around town, delighting in the breeze through my hair, the sun on my face, and the swarms of insects peppering me like birdshot. On my approach home, I have a delightful 4 mile stretch along the Piscataqua River where I can ride in relative peace, soaking in the natural beauty and having only to remain vigilant about the hundreds of cars zipping by–every driver desperate to either get to Goffstown or leave Goffstown.
As I reveled in the beauty of the river and enjoyed the tickly sensation of the thousands of bugs wriggling along my lips and mouth, I saw a kayaker stopped at the bank of the river listening to the music from an annual blues festival that comes to town, um... annually.
Of course, this made me think, "I should bring my fragile children on a life-threatening ride down the churning, rain-swollen rapids of this river in a large, hard to control, inflatable raft!" Perhaps it was simply the giddiness of all the Vitamin D surging through my sun deprived system, but this was indisputably the best idea I had ever had. Of course, the kids agreed whole-heartedly. They're good like that.
We unearthed the raft from beneath the porch, scoured it, inflated it and strapped it to the roof of the car. We dropped my truck off at the proposed end-point for the ride and Kerri drove us all to a spot several miles upstream so we could 'put in', as the pros say. For us, it might be more accurate to say that we dropped the raft into the water and flailed and dived for it as it was whisked away in the current. After scrambling aboard we settled in for what proved to be a delightful sojourn down the river. There were a few bumpy parts that were a lot of fun (save for the crippling pain of bouncing off a rock with my knee) but the rest of the ride was smooth and fun. In the interest of absolute honesty, I feel that I need to post an uncropped copy of the exciting looking picture at the beginning of this post.

The glamor and high excitement is somewhat lessened, I know. The river loses some of its potential as a raging force of nature when you see how calm most of it is. In the background you can see the bridge leading into the fairgrounds where the blues show was being held. You can also see the man who warned us, "There's whitewater up ahead there." then sat back and ghoulishly watched to see if the guy with the two kids careening down the river might wind up on the news that night. "Hey," he could tell his wife, over dinner, "I warned them..."

First one in the country!!!

Woo Hoo! This is Caleb and Kate. Yesterday, while I was visiting the Conway Public Library, they became the first people in the country (and, I suppose, the entire world) to buy a copy of The Messiest Desk. You will notice how happy they look. That feeling of elation will no doubt last for several decades.*

•You can't get it in stores yet...
•You can't get it online yet...
•You can't even get it by rubbing a magic lamp and demanding it of the genie who appears.**


So how can you be as happy as Kate and Caleb? Actually, right now, you'll just have to be patient until the book gets to book stores. There are going to be giant release parties all over the country, just like there are for Harry Potter books.*** If you want to dress up like Benjamin Putt, all you have to do is stick a plunger to your head. I'd recommend a new one.





*This claim has not yet been tested.
**Neither has this one.
*** Lies, lies, all lies - But please feel free to organize your own release party! I'll bring the cookies.

New Website

3 posts in one day! Do I rock?

Really, do I?

Eh, maybe a little.

So, my website has been totally redesigned and remade. New layout, new images, all that jazz. I'd love any feedback - good or bad - I can take it. Let me know what you think.

martykelley.com

Please?

Newest Book Now Available!

Waahoo! The Messiest Desk is officially here. I just got a shipment of books from the publisher. Yippie-Ding! It looks pretty good (if I do say so, myself) so I'm going to recommend that you all go right out and order a few dozen copies.
Thank you in advance.

Niagara Falls

We just returned from a fun-filled family trip to Niagara Falls (unofficial motto: "Bring Lots of Money and Leave it Here").
We had a great time and I was relieved not to have to carry around all that heavy money in my pocket for long. Perhaps you remember the scene in The Blues Brothers where Mr. Fabulous is explaining to Jake and Elwood that they don't belong in a particular restaurant because the soup is $#%@&^* $10?
That's nothing. I had to take out a second mortgage to get a refill on my coffee one morning.
Anyhow, it was a great trip. Our hotel overlooked the falls and the floor to ceiling windows afforded dizzying and wonderful views. We did all the tourist things like walking around waiting in line. We actually had to wait in line to leave our hotel on the last morning. (true!) That's how crowded it is up there.
I've decided (though everyone around me has known for years) that I have some sort of anxiety disorder when I'm crammed into a heaving throng of humanity. I really don't like crowds and noise. That's why I live out here in the middle of nowhere and love it.
It was fun seeing the falls again. I made a quick trip out there when I was going to school in Canada, but we didn't have much time then. This time we were able to really appreciate how beautiful the falls are. And crowded. And expensive. Did I mention that?
Seriously. Don't even get me started on the special $85 Breakfast of Despair that we suffered through on one morning.
Too much crabbing here, I think. It was a very fun trip. We all had a great time and the kids were surprisingly unaffected by spending 9 hours in the car each way. We had a lot of fun and I'd recommend the trip to anyone.
Just, don't forget your wallet...

Home and out again...

Since I've been home from New York, one of my children commented on the fact that I actually haven't been home much. Slightly depressing, but all too true.
Home on Sunday night and then a show with Steve Blunt Monday morning. We had fun, but I can't say it was a career defining show for us. We had both been away for several days and still hadn't quite gotten our groove back. The show was for a library, but was held at a day-camp where the eager young campers crammed into a loud room that might be generously described as "acoustically challenging". The kids were very excited and the music was very loud, so from that perspective, the show was a success. Some indoor pyrotechnics would have completed the event to a nicety, but the ceiling was very low and the threat of self immolation was all too real. Though thrilling in the short term, it would require tedious rescheduling of future shows.
More shows, both with and without Steve followed, and yesterday I once again accompanied my intrepid friend Julie up the treacherous slopes of a NH 4,000 footer. The destination was Mt. Jefferson, the third highest peak in NH and, quite possibly, the rockiest place on the face of the planet. After a gentle, though ceaseless, climb along a gently forested trail, we were given a few fleeting glances at the spectacular scenery that surrounded us as the trees thinned out and we were suddenly (and yes, it does happen suddenly) above tree line.

I'm sure that, had the weather been better and had all those pesky mountains not been in the way, we would have had clear views of the North Pole and Melbourne, Australia. The expanse of land, trees, mountains, and tourists on distant roads was breathtaking.
We plodded upward across treacherous winding paths, fending off mountain goats, indigenous mountain people, and evil trolls lurking under craggy rock outcroppings until finally, many weeks later we arrived at a sign that told us the summit was only 0.1 miles away. You can see this sign in the picture of Julie. We were happy then. Happy and hopeful. After another 150,000 miles, we finally reached the summit, our tender spirits crushed; our tender feet blistered.
As we sat to eat our lunches. We relaxed, stretched our legs, and laid back across the rocks to soak up some sun and get a clear, unobstructed view of the roiling thunderheads that were speeding in our direction.
We gagged down the rest of our lunches and considered our options. They were:

1. Get off the summit.
2. Die a hideous death on the summit.

After some deliberation we opted for the first choice and began the slow, tortuous descent down the hill. At the point in our descent where the rocks were at their most treacherous, the rain started to add the additional thrill of "slipperiness".

This is the point where I told Julie that I am terrified of heights. She did not find this information helpful or reassuring, as I had hoped.

After we slid down many sheer rock faces, clenching our respective buttocks to maintain a tenacious grip on the rocks (a technique I do not, in retrospect, recommend) we managed to get safely below tree line.

Then the sun came out.

Really.

We made our sodden way down the mountain and headed to Lincoln for our mandatory post-climb ice cream. I tried Dinosaur Crunch. This particular confection seems to have been designed exclusively for the under 5 crowd. From the deceptive name–it contains no actual dinosaur; crunchy or otherwise–to the alarmingly blue hue. A color found nowhere in nature and reminding me more of a race car than of anything a human should ingest. To add a distinct visual counterpoint to the blue, there were near-black globs of a fudge-like substance swirled throughout it. Adding to its textural diversity were a universe of cake crumbs (no doubt swept up from the floor of some second rate high volume snack treat factory).

So while I am glad to be home today, I may not actually be able to spend as much time with my children as I would like. I'll probably spend the day in the bathroom brushing the residual dinosaur flavor out of my mouth. Maybe I'll see the kids next week...

Day 5 - Home Again

Class is finished and I have returned home, if only briefly. I am off to Northfield, NH today to do a show with my buddy Steve Blunt.
You may notice that I did not post a picture today. That is because after several hours of additional work, my painting is not perceptably different. Certainly not in a way that would show up on a low-res online posting. I still have not really had a chance to sit and assimilate all that I have learned from my week in McCormack Bootcamp, but I am prepared to share the secret of Paul's work with any who might like to know.
It has been said that there is a fine line between genius and madness. The secret to Paul's amazing artwork is that he is stark-raving, bark-at-the-moon crazy. Not in a dangerous lunatic, dose him with Thorazine sort of way, though. In fact, I will say again that Paul and Karen are delightful, funny people who are both very pleasant to be around.
When he begins working, though, the true extent of Paul's insanity becomes instantly evident. He sees things. Details so small and nuanced that the average person would need an electron microscope strapped to his face (not comfortable, I should imagine) to have any hope of noticing it. He sees patterns of light, color, and temperature. And he spends countless hours transforming what he sees into art by using the tiniest brush strokes. Strokes nearly imperceptible to the human eye.
Paul is obviously not human.
In spite of his creepy powers of observation (or, perhaps, because of them) and his maniacal, obsessive attention to detail, he is a terrific teacher. If you are all sensitive and can't stand criticism, then I would suggest that you avoid his classes at all costs. If you have problems in your work, he will tell you. He'll help you fix them and see why they were problems. If, however, you are looking to truly grow and develop as an artist, you could ask for no better teacher.*


*Paul, I'll be sending you a bill for this commercial in my blog.

It was a great experience and I hope that it will send all my artwork–even the goofiest stuff–in a new (and with luck, better) direction.

Day 4

So now I'm caught up in my postings, but I have to hurry because there is a show opening for one of Paul's former students tonight. He told us if we didn't go, he's not going to teach us anything else.
I'm kidding. He actually said that if we didn't show up he's going to lock us out of his studio and sell all our supplies on EBay.
Also kidding, people. He wouldn't do that. He'd keep the supplies for himself. He's no dummy.

So today I officially gave up on completing my painting. Don't cry. It's okay. I am going to focus on the area around the right eye - the focal point of the painting. I'm going to try to bring that to a beautiful finished state so the painting will look like an amorphous blob with an eyeball on the middle.

Paul's rendering techniques are unimaginably time-consuming. The results (when he does it) are stunning. I figure I'll do better to try to complete a part with his help rather than scramble to finish the entire thing.

I'll probably do what I said in an earlier post and try to incorporate a few of his techniques in my own work. I'm excited to get back to the painting I started before I left for NY.

I've really learned a lot and I'm eager to see what's in store for tomorrow. That is, if he hasn't sold all my supplies.

Day 3

I know. I know. I'm a day late posting here. I'd like to make it perfectly clear that it is not my fault. It is Paul's fault. We were chatting before class yesterday and I mentioned some sort of fair or something that was being set up in the middle of the town. He told me that it was the annual Roof-A-Thon (?).
What the heck a Roof-A-Thon is, is frankly, entirely beside the point.
The important point here is that Paul told me that Dee Snyder is heavily involved in these yearly events. Dee Snyder, I'm sure you will remember, was the gregarious, make-up clad lead singer for Twisted Sister. If you do not know what Twisted Sister was, I suggest you go back under whatever rock you recently emerged from and quietly contemplate eternity.
So I raced here to the hotel, gagged down some dinner, and raced back to the Roof-A-Thon (not a roof in sight, I may add) where I spent the entire evening gawking at everybody, looking for Dee Snyder.
The happy ending is not coming, I'm afraid. there was no Dee, but I had a delightful evening listening to the bands and admiring all the various biker gangs who were in attendance. It was biker night! It was a feast for the eyes and as an added bonus, I took years off my life inhaling their second hand smoke and exhaust.
So, in conclusion, my failure to post yesterday was entirely Paul's fault and I think he owes me Dee Snyder's autograph or a cup of Dee's sweat or some other memento.
Oh yeah. I did some painting, too.

Day2

So, this class has not gotten any easier, but it's a lot of fun and I think I'm learning a lot. I considered myself to be fairly competent as a painter, but there is so much new stuff here. New colors (yes it makes a difference), and working vertically on an easel instead of horizontally on my drawing table. That has been incredibly difficult, but I came for a challenge. I don't think I'm going to produce my masterpiece here, but I'll be able to apply Paul's techniques to the way I normally work and, with luck, create a nice hybrid.
Here is today's work:

It's still at the very beginning stages, but so far, no unrecoverable disasters. Looks pretty creepy without those irises, doesn't it?
And, if you are the type who wonders about such things (I am), Fishkill is named after a creek. It appears that in NY, a kill is a creek (or brook, or stream, or crick...). So Fishkill=Fishcreek. Easy.
Of course it lends itself to some amusing names. I saw the Fishkill Pool Center today. Paul told me that they considered opening an aquarium in Fishkill. What they might name it I cannot fathom...

Portrait Class!

So, people. I am in Fishkill, New York.
Fishkill. Really. I love the name of this place.
I'm taking a 5 day portrait painting class with Paul McCormack, an amazing artist and a really nice guy to boot.
Today was the first day. We spent it drawing the model (Paul's wife, Karen - also really nice). I usually work from photos and find working from life to be very challenging. Here is the sum total of the day's work:


Not my best work, I'll admit, but this is just the preliminary sketch. I'll try to post pictures of each day's work to show how it's coming along. If there are no more pictures and this is never mentioned again, you may presume that my painting was not a success...

Stay tuned.

Hiking with Dr. Doolittle

The star of my next book, The Messiest Desk, is an intrepid girl named Julie Lemire. Not only is she a character in my book, she's my good friend and her real name is Julie Lemire. She is trying to hike all the 4000 footers in NH (I believe there are 4.5 billion of them) and she occasionally allows me to tag along, most likely for comedy relief or, possibly, so she can eat me if we get hopelessly lost and the food supply gives out.

As we were climbing the gentle ascent of Mt. Starr King a couple of birds began flitting around us. "They're vultures," I panted, "They sense imminent death."
"They're gray jays," Julie said, "And they're very friendly. Actually, they'll eat right out of your hand."
This, I did not believe.
"That, I do not believe," I told Julie. "You obviously have altitude sickness and have begun to lose your mind. Perhaps we should retreat down the hill."
"No. Seriously. They'll eat right out of your hand," Julie insisted.
"No. Seriously. Let's go back to the car. I'll buy you an ice cream or some oxygen on the way home. We'll come back some other time. The mountain will still be here."
Julie began rummaging around in her back pack and pulled out a large bag of trail mix. Every hiker in NH is required, by state law, to carry a bag of trail mix while hiking.
She dumped a small handful of the assorted twigs and berries into her palm and held out her hand.
"Come on, Julie," I coaxed, "Some tasty ice cream... Let's head down and get you some thicker air."
She shushed me and stood still, her hand held out like some devout worshiper offering a tasty high protein sacrifice.
Then, within 15 seconds:
We carried on with the hike, but any time I doubted anything Julie said she would merely hold her hand out in a pose of offering and I was forced to admit that she was not delusional.
In fact, when we stopped for lunch at the cloudy, zombie-fog enshrouded summit of Mt. Starr King, I snitched some of her trail mix:

I spent the rest of the hike trying to convince Julie to speak to the animals and make them carry us down the mountains. I thought that if we coated ourselves in trail mix enough gray jays would come that they could fly us to the peaks of all the 4000 footers, thus eliminating the need for all that painful hiking.
My pleading and whining was to no avail. Julie would not use her creepy powers for our personal gain. We had to hike down the mountains, but we did get ice cream (after we washed our hands).

The Messiest Desk, again!

Whoopie! I finally got a finished, bound copy of The Messiest Desk and it looks great! I'm really happy with this book. It seems that it may actually be available in late summer. I did all the design work in this one and, while there was a steep learning curve using a new application, I'm pretty happy with the way it came out. Maybe I'll get into the whole world of book design next...
I'll let you all know when the book is actually available so you can run out and buy several dozen copies.

Fan Art - Redux

Okay. Get off my back. I know. I know. I haven't posted in a loooooong time. I thought about trying to do a sketch of the day or something, but I really don't think I could keep up with it. The sketches, yes. The posting, no.
So I'm trying something different here. My last post was a brilliant piece of art by my buddy Oliver. Today, the fan art is mine. I'm the fan.
The painting above is a copy I did of part of a painting by the amazingly talented Paul McCormack.
Next month, I'm taking off for New York to spend a week studying with him. Very exciting.
I'd like to start doing more portraits of people and will be updating my website soon to reflect that.
On the book front, everything is going well with The Messiest Desk. I've seen some of the printed pages and it looks great. It should be ready for shipping sometime near the end of July.
Whoopie!
I was contacted by an agent at a big literary agency and am hoping that she will want to represent me.
It will be lots of fun to be able to say, "Let me discuss that with my agent." to people. Like when my lovely wife wants me to set the table. "Let me discuss that with my agent. I'll get back to you."
Oh yeah. I can't wait for that.
I'll keep you all posted on what's happening.

FAN ART!

So I'm going to try something new.
You know what my art looks like. Time to see someone else's.
Yesterday I spent a long, fun day at Brookline Elementary School. I met lots of new friends, including the obviously talented Oliver. He's in kindergarten, and I think his picture of the cover of my book, The Rules is better than mine. I absolutely love the olives he drew.
He comes by his talent honestly, his mom Katie made an amazing bulletin board of cut paper reproductions of my book covers. Check 'em out here. She rocks.
So hey, if you have some cool fan art, send it my way and who knows...
Maybe I'll steal it and turn it into a book.
Mwaaa!Ha!Ha!

The Messiest Desk

Hi Charlotte!

So, It's come to my attention that I am expected to sort of update this thing once in a while...

Huh. Okay. I'll give it a try.

I've been buried in my studio for the last several days, hunched over a computer keyboard designing my next book, The Messiest Desk. The artwork was finished in September, got scanned and sent to me. I had to put in the words, design the cover and jacket and all that good stuff.

I recently got Adobe InDesign and I am still sort of figuring it out, so there was something of a learning curve. A long, looping, jagged curve...

The book is scheduled to be finished and back in the USA by the end of July. we'll see if that actually happens. In the meantime, enjoy the sneak peek previews of the title page and one of the layouts and remember: Keep Your Desk Clean!

Summer Stinks - Super Cool Punk Rock Version

Hooray!
Our CD is finally finished.

It was great getting to work with Steve and all the other great folks that helped make this CD possible.

Oh, yeah. We're rock stars.

Here's a link to a couple of songs
www.myspace.com/steveandmarty
Let us know what you think.

There is also lots of information on both of our own websites:

martykelley.com

steveblunt.com

Don't take it personally, but I'm not a big MySpace kind of guy, so don't leave messages or ask to be my friend on MySpace or anything, because, honestly, I never look at that stuff. You can comment here, though.

Don't Read My Book To Two Year Olds!!

At the very real risk of frightening people and causing them not to buy my book, Twelve Terrible Things, I'd like to make something very clear: THE BOOK IS NOT FOR TWO YEAR OLD KIDS!!!
It seems obvious to most of us, but consider the poorly spelled and grammatically awkward (not to mention rude and unsigned) email I received from a concerned citizen today:

Recently your Twelve Terrible Things was read to a group of 2 year olds at the library. Personally, I found the book highly inappropriate for this age group. Particularly, eerie was the figure on the ledge of some sort being prompted to jump. The goldfish, the clown, these were strange, which I can see from your sense of humor is the object of your work. Who exactly is your target audience?

Sorry, but in my little world your book is too much too digest for little ones. I know it doesn't matter to you, but I am telling every educator and any one who works with little ones to steer clear of this book.

Unfortunately, in today's society, there is probably a good market for your type of dark humor.



Of course the book is not for two year old children. She seemed so earnest, however, I couldn't let her concerns go unanswered:


Dear Person Who Didn’t Sign His Name To His Email:

I’m sorry that you find a little dark humor to be objectionable and offensive and would begrudge others a chance to indulge in something other than sugar-coated niceness. More worrisome to me is that fact that you would choose to read Twelve Terrible Things to a group of two year old children. It is plainly not an appropriate choice for children that young. The book has exactly 129 words in it, so a quick read-through before sharing it with kids shouldn’t have taken too long. The unambiguous title, as well as the warning on the first page, also give a clear indication of what is to be presented in the book.

The book is obviously targeted toward a much older age group. In fact, many of the adults I speak with at book signings and other events tell me that they are buying the book for themselves.

The many years I spent as a classroom teacher and the tens of thousands of students I have visited at schools have left me with a fairly clear idea of what is appropriate for different age groups. I don’t share Twelve Terrible Things with children below 3rd or 4th grade for the simple reason that the kids are too young to understand the humor or to have experienced the events in the book. Many children have had pets die, have been frightened by clowns or have found that the high dive (the precipitous ledge in question) looks even higher from above. This book gives them a chance to look back and laugh, having overcome–or at least experienced–these unpleasant events.

Despite your assumption that it doesn’t matter to me, I am delighted that you are willing to spend your valuable time suggesting to educators that the book is not appropriate for two year olds, though I suspect that any reasonable, intelligent person will figure that out without your assistance.

Thank you for your vigilance and concern for the welfare of our youth,

Marty Kelley


Please people, use your heads.

Back in the studio

I apologize for the long delay in posting here. I'm sure I've disappointed legions of rabid followers. Things have been busy, as usual.
Last week I went up to Rockinghorse recording studio with Steve and Joe and we recorded the bass and drum tracks for three songs on the upcoming CD we are releasing "Let's Have A Reading Party."
It was a lot of fun, but recording can be frustrating. I used to drum a lot, but I'm a bit rusty now and any mistakes affect everyone.
"Do it again." "One more try." "Let's do that again."
These are the words most often spoken by Brian, the evil mastermind engineer behind the controls. (You can see his evilness in the picture where he is looming over me at the drum set - he is saying that if I mess up again, he'll break my fingers). I am kidding, of course. Breaking my fingers would slow the recording process. He is threatening to break my will to live.
To record the tracks for 3 songs took almost 8 hours, so my will to live was almost broken without Brian's assistance...

It was actually a lot of fun and I must explain that the pictures of Steve playing guitar is especially dorky looking. I asked him to pose like that. In real life he is quite suave and smooth - never dorky.

The CD should be ready sometime in March and will no doubt propel us into the international music spotlight. Don't worry, I'll still remember all the little people.

The Next New Book!!

Hooray!!

I finally got an actual, real-life advance copy of the looooooong awaited Spring Goes Squish!! The artwork for this book was completed over two years ago, but printer problems left it stranded in Thailand for many moons.

It looks good (if I do say so myself). This is the first book where I've done the layout and design work as well. It was a slightly frustrating learning curve, but I got the hang of it and am eager to take on some more design jobs.

I'm not sure when it will be available as the remaining copies are being surface shipped (i.e. slow boat from Thailand). Stay tuned for more details.

Lemony Snicket reviews my book in New York Times!

My newest book, Twelve Terrible Things, has had some pretty good reviews.


Here's what The Denver Post said:

"The Lemony Snicket-esque introduction advises the reader not to turn the page, which is how many of us anticipate feeling the day after Tuesday's election. No candidates hide inside these pages, but there are one or two Terrible Things that could be even worse.

Kelley's looming dentist says, "Say AHHH," instead of the truly chilling "You might feel some discomfort."

But the birthday clown? Pure evil. So are the elderly lady's manicured fingernails lunging toward the reader ("Oh my goodness, just look at those CHEEKS."


Cool. But did you notice that line about it being Lemony Snicket-esque?

Well, it just so happens that today's New York Times book review contains a review of my book by none other than Mr. Snicket himself:



School Library Journal gave it a starred review:
Here's a good one from Kirkus Reviews:


“I'm warning you. If you turn the page, you are going to see some terrible things.” No exaggeration there. Twelve childhood fears, anxieties and worries are rendered in hugely realistic two-page spreads. The book begins with readers looking down at a delicious double-scoop of ice cream lying heartbreakingly on the ground; they’ll experience each horrible happening firsthand, from the dizzying view from the edge of a diving board to a friend’s smelly sock thrust in their faces. The 12 everyday bad things are delightfully exaggerated: When Grandma reaches for “those cheeks,” she looks positively predatory. After the 12th terrible thing occurs, readers find themselves in an ice-cream store reaching for a double-scoop cone, and the cycle begins again. This is essentially Gary Greenberg’s Pop-Up Book of Phobias (1999) but with a wonderful sense of how kids sometimes feel the world treats them. Expect this book to be a hit with not just younger children but their older teenage siblings as well. Turns the terrible into the terrific.

Another favorite came from Three Silly Chicks.

Sometimes authors and illustrators sneak up on us. It's not nice, really. They tend to be so big and wear pointy shoes. Little chicks like us don't stand a chance. And yet, it happens all the time. Most recently, it happened with author/illustrator Marty Kelley. Somehow, we had not noticed this funny guy sneaking up behind us with all his funny books and then BAM! He pops out his latest title, TWELVE TERRIBLE THINGS and gets us smack on our feathery heads.

We loved this funny book which relies almost entirely on illustrations to deliver its punch. Try to think of the most mortifying things you tried to avoid in your childhood and you're sure to come up with at least one of scenes from TWELVE TERRIBLE THINGS. From the terrifying great-aunt out to pinch your cheeks to the view from atop the high dive, they are all here.


Our personal favorite is the clown scene. Frequent readers of our interviews will understand why.



Like this spread, some of these jokes might zoom past very young readers (and that might be a good thing), but 2nd and 3rd graders will snort with laughter.

They even interviewed me. Check out the entire thing here.



I can keep going. Want to read more?

Here's one from For Immediate Release Reviews:

Have you ever picked up one of those books where the cover is terrific and the inside is just blah? This is a book that lives up to that promise and delivers the goods. Two surprises await you inside: 1) the best illustrations weren't used for the cover and 2) author Marty Kelley is FUNNY.

Crack this open to discover the twelve worst things that can happen to a kid. Like Great-Aunt Eunice and her claws of death (photo above). Your head after believing in your sister's ability to produce a good haircut. Lunch Lady Doris and her need to encapsulate all foods in gravy. Plus nine more.

The text is intentionally sparse, allowing the marvelous illustrations to speak for themselves. Rendered in watercolor, each terrible thing spans two over sized pages; these alone make this book worth acquiring. Pair these extraordinary illustrations with the author's sarcastic wit and you have an unbeatable combination. Pile on some childhood trauma and you have one heck of an excellent children's book.

Side note: My four year old held his foot up to our neighbor and said "Smell THIS, doofus." Thanks, Marty!

From A Patchwork of Books:

"...The true gem within this book are the amazing illustrations. They are done so well, they almost look as if they are photographs jumping off the page. My favorite page is that of the dentist reaching into the patient's mouth...he really looks like he's coming for you! I was in awe by the realistic nature of Kelley's drawings.

Kids will laugh all the way through Twelve Terrible Things and none of the experiences listed are so terrible as to not be shared with the little ones. Though I will admit, if you're not scared of clowns before reading this, you just may be afterwards!"

Okay. Just one more. This one is from the Provo City Library:

As a child, did you ever drop your ice cream cone on the ground, before you even got to have a lick? Wasn't it tragic! Were you ever the "new kid" at school? How horrible were all those eyes on you when you walked into the classroom for the first time? Did you ever take swimming lessons? That diving board was waaaaaaaaaay to high to ever jump off of! And horror of horrors, "Great-Aunt Matilda" coming at you to pinch your cheeks! Don't even mention The Dentist, we just won't go there! These are just a few of the Twelve Terrible Things that Marty Kelley shows us. The minimal text is effective in conveying the message of what is "terrible" to a young child. It is the illustrations, however, that make this my new favorite picture book. Kelley's watercolors portray exactly what a child would see in each event. The details are great. For example, look at "Great-Aunt Matilda's" chin and in the road trip picture each family member has great facial expression. A must-read for everyone. Adults will most likely be more entertained than children just because it will dredge up some childhood memories for them.


Wow. Is all that super cool, or what?
You know what I noticed? Many of the reviewers who mentioned the old lady pinching cheeks gave her a name. I think you should name this old lady. Leave a comment and tell me what her name is.

It was a really fun book to work on. I recommend that everyone run out and buy it in bulk.

Right now.

Thanks!

Keene State Children's Literature Festival

Whoo-eeee.
Yesterday I spent the day with my good friend Julie (the star of my next book...) at the Keene State College Children's Literature Festival. I haven't been able to make it to the festival in a few years and it was inspiring, as always, to go back.

Dr. David White, the festival organizer, always gathers some great talent to talk about their work. This year Stephen Kellogg, Jerry Pinkney, as well as several other authors and illustrators gave great talks.

As an added bonus (for me) Dr. White paid me the honor of purchasing some of my artwork to hang in the festival's permanent collection.Is that super cool, or what? It's a great feeling to have my work hanging in the same collection as the work of some of my favorite illustrators of all time.

I also contributed an owl to the festival's owl collection. Mine is on the bottom right, waiting to frighten people getting a drink of water.



I have never really done much realistic animal artwork, so this owl was a challenge, but I was very happy with it. You can see a better picture of it here.

Next year, a couple of my friends, Beth Krommes and Lita Judge will be presenting, so I'll be in the front row heckling them mercilessly. Come join me. I'll save a seat for you.