Dear reader,
I obviously can’t provide an objective review of my own book—but I can tell you a little about why I wrote it.
First of all, you might wonder what I was thinking, writing a book about wizard school! The Harry Potter books are so popular and authoritative that anything in this genre is merely standing in their shadow. (Hey, that’s the power of J.K. Rowling's characters, setting, and world-building.)
Instead of trying to ignore this behemoth of a series, I tried to play upon it, giving my main character Cara a slightly satirical tone as she confronts certain fantasy tropes and, depending on her mood, is either impressed by them being fulfilled or miffed that they have been contradicted.
In writing Spell Sweeper, I wasn’t thinking only of Harry Potter, but of the long line of fantasy books, movies, and TV shows that populate this genre (though at the same time understanding that for many of my readers, their own references may go no further than Rowling’s books). I was thinking about Jane Yolen’s Wizard’s Hall, T.H. White’s The Once and Future King, The Chronicles of Narnia, The Worst Witch, Terry Pratchett’s Discworld books, Star Wars, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Firefly . . . the list goes on. There’s always a mentor, a magical talisman used to finish the quest, a prophecy of a chosen one.
(I’m particularly fascinated by the concept on the archetypal “chosen” character. I invite you to google “The Chosen,” which is an excellent two-part series from CBC’s IDEAS podcast.)
Well, as for my exact inspirations for Spell Sweeper, here is some of what I included in the author’s note at the back of the book . . .
In 2004, I met a like-minded dreamer named Joon-hyoung Park who was seeking a writing program for his daughters to take. He couldn’t find the right type of workshop, so he decided to invent one—and he wanted my help. The next thing you know, Joon and I had started a creative writing program in Vancouver for immigrant kids from Asia (our own school of magic!).
Our workshops blossomed and bloomed, and now we host many programs for kids from all walks of life. We write stories, draw pictures, brew potions, build dragon eggs—you name it! My wife and I have enjoyed an additional privilege—the opportunity to visit Asia to teach creative writing at schools, libraries, and education centers (I’ve been to Korea over twenty times!). Reading the stories by these creative kids—and about their dreams, desires, and fears—has definitely played a role in the creation of Dragonsong Academy.
Something else happened during my many trips to Asia. I began seeing brooms. Everywhere. There was always one leaning against a park bench or in the corner of a temple, as if impatiently waiting for its owner to return. I started photographing these brooms because—well, that’s what I do. Something catches my interest, I take a photo, make a sketch or note in my brainstorming journal, just in case I need it down the road. I began imagining that these brooms contained hidden and unusual magic—my second strand of inspiration.
Coming back from a trip to Vietnam and Cambodia, I remembered something else: My grandfather used to make his own brooms! He grew the broomcorn, harvested it, and bound them to broomsticks. I never saw my grandfather build a broom (I really wish I had), but I realized I had one of his creations in the dusty corner of my closet. I had never dared to use the broom, but I dug it out as inspiration. Then, on a subsequent visit to my parents, I scavenged their house to find they had their own collection of my grandfather’s handmade brooms. They all have the same humble construction—and, if you ask me, their own type of magic. Clearly, these brooms have been lingering in my subconscious all these years, waiting for me to tell their story.
The final bit of inspiration for this book came from an exchange that I’ve had many times with students. It happens almost exactly the same each time; I’m wrapping up a class or a school visit and a student approaches me and asks, “Are you famous?” I always answer the same: “I think the answer is in your question!” They inevitably press me on the matter: “But don’t you want to be famous?”
“No!” I cry with the passionate zeal of an introvert. “I want to be a writer.”
I have always asked my students to focus on craft over reward—but who can blame them for their yearnings? Every writer, artist, actor I know (including me!) has craved accolades and recognition, has experienced those “why not me?” or “when is it my turn?” moments. My time as a teacher and speaker has prompted me to ponder our personal definitions of failure and success—and from these musings came the character of Caradine Moone. It is my hope that her journey (even though it involves not flying on a broom) rings true for readers.