Tag: <span>Pumpkin Goblins</span>

Tag: Pumpkin Goblins

Pumpkin Goblins has a print version!

Pumpkin Goblins print copy

Yup, that finally happened!

And I took a a picture of it in damp leaves. For proof. Because I don’t know, maybe you wouldn’t believe me?

(For the record, no books were harmed in the making of this blog post.)

Finally getting the print copy up was the impetus for relaunching the book last year, but it was the only part of the relaunch I didn’t get to–and this despite the fact that I had the files an inch from ready the first time around.

The response to this has been awesome–I’m not alone in my old school preference for print! (Even though I’ve definitely been enjoying my Kobo Clara the last few months!)

But even better than people buying the print copy? Reading it to my four-year-old. This started as a mandatory chapter per night before I went on to read Little Blue Truck or Phoebe and Her Unicorn (which is a much more awesome comic strip than you’d think from the name!), but it’s now turned into something she looks forward to, and she’s been asking a ton of great questions.

Anyway, you can grab a copy of the paperback here.

“…hold on to this box, lest the pumpkin goblins grab them all.”

Thus reads the warning at the end of the side-of-box copy on Trader Joe’s Pumpkin-O’s.

Of course, I wrote a book called Pumpkin Goblins, so this was hilarious to me. My partner and I discussed whether we thought the pumpkin goblins would actually steal someone’s Pumpkin O’s. I said, no, they wouldn’t. They’re professionals. They won’t mistake a cereal for a real pumpkin. Pumpkin sense goes deeper than eyesight.

He said, yes, they would, but not when they’re on duty.

A recipe for goblin candy

The idea of goblin candy came from a quick bit of dialogue in Pumpkin Goblins that gave me a vivid image of what goblin candy is like: dark and fruity chocolate, gooey in texture, with a hint of spices. For authenticity, it should include bugs, but I left them out of the recipe.

Painting the way

Even though I enjoy exploring the woods beyond the beaten, dog shit-lined path, I like trail markers.

Maybe it’s simply the sight of a colorful splotch of paint on rough tree bark.

Maybe it’s the secret code aspect of trail sign, bits of twigs arranged in symbols and arrows, miniature rock cairns reassuring you that “this is the way.”

Maybe it’s because I’ve been a hiker my whole life.  I can remember all the way back to when I was three years old, running through the woods, ahead of the rest of my family, following the bright paints.  Because the trail markers showed me where to go, I could run from the hot sun to the relief of tree-shade and be safe, cool, and alone for a moment, until my family showed up.

Trail markers went with shade, rocks to climb on, and a canteen full of sun-warmed water.

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It’s weird, but I have a mild fear of becoming lost. Weird, because I’m good with directions, and have only been truly lost a couple times in my life.  If I’m driving somewhere and want to try a different route, I can usually wing it and end up in the right place.  Winging it does not include GPS, which is no fun.  It’s hand-holding, and on the inside, I’m still the kid who ran ahead of her parents.  Trail markers, maps, and compasses reassure me, but I can get by without them unless I’m in a totally new place.

I’ve been writing a children’s chapter book with the working title “Pumpkin Goblins.” The main character is a kid who’s having the worst Halloween ever, and I gave her my fear of getting lost. Only for her, it’s not a mild fear that crops up now and then.  It’s a big enough deal that she wears a compass around her neck at all times.  My own fear may be minor, but it made me curious.  I didn’t know why being lost scared me until I wrote most of “Pumpkin Goblins.”

Becoming lost is a loss of control.  And if you keep a tight enough hold on your map and compass, if you keep your trail markers in sight, maybe you never have to experience it.

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Lichen, not a trail marker at all. You’ve been had.

That’s a false hope.