[ Music ] >> Okay, there we go. All right, Ann. >> Hey, everybody. I am Ann Patchett, and I
am in my breakfast room. I know it looks like I'm in
front of a Chinese pagoda, but I'm in my breakfast room, at
home, staying safe in Nashville, Tennessee, and I am here with
my friend, Kate DiCamillo. Kate, where are you? >> I am in Minneapolis,
Minnesota, and I'm in my dining
room, which it's funny that I even have a dining
room, because I can't cook, and I'm lousy at entertaining. But that's where I am,
because the light is good. And you can see behind me that my little breakfast
nook in there. >> Well, you know -- >> And that, I [audio blurbs]. >> -- if you can't cook and
you're lousy at entertaining, then it's a good use of
a dining room to make it into your Zoom studio. [ Laughing ] >> Okay, so, Ann? Ann, you know what
we're going to do? >> We're going to
have a conversation about our friendship
and writing. >> Yes. >> It's going to be 20
minutes of us stepping on each other's lines. So, I'm going to tell
the story of how Kate and I met and became friends. Let's see if I can get
through a couple of sentences without her jumping
on my line here. It's just what it is. Guys, you're really seeing
the real-life interaction of Patchett and DeCamillo. So, I had met Kate
a couple of times. On the co-owner of Parnassus
Books in Nashville, Tennessee, and Kate had come,
and I had met her at the store a few
times very briefly. I met you once in Minneapolis
at a Winter Institute. We were on a panel together. We liked each other. Hey, hi, you know, that was it,
and then one day I got an email from of writer that I
know, Nell Freudenberger, a terrific novelist, and
she asked me if I knew Kate, because she had just finished
reading The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane to
her seven-year-old son, and she wanted me to
get a message to Kate, which was that the book had
completely changed their lives. And I thought, yeah, I didn't
have your email at that point, but I thought I can find
you without any problem. But I also realized,
at that moment, that I was really a jerk. You know, I had met you. I liked you, but I
hadn't read your books because I don't have kids and
I didn't read middle grade. And so, I thought before
I track this woman down, I am going to do due
diligence and read your books. And I started with
The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane, and I wound up reading every single
thing you had ever written, which is really saying a lot, because you have been
very, very productive. And after I finished all my
reading, then I found you. I reached out to you, and
then we began our friendship. Is that about right? >> That -- yes. Can I talk now? >> Yes, go ahead, really. >> This is interesting because
it is really hard to talk over you in this format. As much as I would
like to do it, it's just like I can't do it. So, everything that Ann said
is true, but like from my end, I have to say that
I have been a reader and a huge fan of Ann Patchett. It's a magical name,
and I was very -- and then, all of a sudden,
there was her name in my inbox, and I was very intimidated
and also, deeply moved by what you wrote to me. But I was like -- I was just
taken aback, and also, remember, Ann, that what happened
was we started emailing. You started reading me. I had already read all
of yours, of course. When I was working at a book
warehouse here in Minneapolis, this is like 20 years ago,
more than 20 years ago, I read The Magician's Assistant, and that's where I
started with Ann's books. And it was, literally,
life-changing for me. And I had been this
huge admirer. So now this person who I adore
shows up and emails me and says that she likes what I
wrote, which is like -- it's a dream come true. So then, we start
emailing back and forth. Ann's working on a novel
at that point, this novel, and I'm working on a
novel, which is actually, will come out next year. And so, Ann, we started ask
each other writerly questions. "What are you working on? What are you working on?" Ann, of course, is
absolutely forthcoming, because she's Ann Patchett. She says, "I'm working
on a novel that is potentially
titled, The Dutch House." And then, she asked me
what I was working on, and I said I can't tell you because my teeth will
fall out if I tell you. >> Have they fallen out yet? How is that working? >> I still have them
all and [audio cuts out] and Ann always said, "Why
would your teeth fall out?" Well, because she's Ann
Patchett, and I was -- but now, you're not
Ann Patchett. You're just my friend
that I write with, and I'm not intimidated by
you, and I do talk to you about what I'm writing now. And you've read this
novel that's going to come out next year, and my
teeth have not fallen out [audio cuts out] Ann. >> Shut up now. I've not only read
that book that's coming out next year, I
absolutely love it. You keep raising
the bar on yourself. Maybe that's what we should
talk about, because I think that that's something
that we both do. This idea that you have to keep
raising the bar in all sorts of different ways, so that
you're engaged and interested. One book that I love
that just came out, this, the Stella Endicott and the
Anything-is-Possible Poem from the Deckawoo Drive series. So, the thing I love
about your career is that you have all these
different stratas. You've got the Mercy Watsons. You've got the picture books. You've got the Deckawoo Drives. You've got your novels,
and that you work on them in this circular way,
but in every category, every time you do something new, I can really feel you
pulling yourself up and tackling something that's
a little harder and new. You are not resting in
any category of your life. You want to talk about
[audio cuts out]. >> And yeah, and nor are you, which goes to this whole
idea of, you know, ingenuity and challenging yourself
and imagination. And you know, you and I talk
about those all the time, how we feel so lucky to
get to do this, right? And we know that this is -- you've known since
you were a child that this is what
you wanted to do. >> So have you. >> I've not. You know, I guess you and I
have is super-talked about this at length, but it was like, you
know, I got the idea in college, and then, wasted a lot
of time not doing it. But I wasn't -- you've been
on this course since -- I mean, how old were
you when you decided? >> Five or something. You know, this is
all I've ever done. This is it. Every time I turn the radio
on and hear Paul Simon sing "One-Trick Pony," my eyes
fill with tears because I feel like that's my anthem song. [ Laughing ] >> Well, but, you know, and
this also goes back to the -- I want to talk about how we -- that thing of how we need
to stay engaged and keep on throwing out new challenges
for ourselves, but I also want to go back to that kid,
you, who made up her mind at five years old that
that's what she wanted do, and I want to talk about how, in
these, you know, so we've been, you know, life has changed
so profoundly, i.e., we're doing this, as opposed
to how I used to live my life, which was to go out and
talk to kids at signings but also in school visits. And I always felt like
if there was one message that a kid could walk away from
me coming into their school and talking to them about
writing, it was this. That here I am, a
small, messy person, and I get to do what I think
is the most magical thing in the world, which
is tell stories. So, if they look at me
standing up there, messy, wildly imperfect, as think,
"She's nothing special, but yet, she gets to do this because." And I tell them this, because I
talk so much about persistence, and I think that also -- that whole notion of wanting
something and refusing to give up is also ingenuity, right? It's just like that's -- I
mean, you and I have talked about this, Ann, how you just
weren't going to give up, you know from --
I mean, it took -- so do you want to
trace that kind of like here's the
five-year-old you, and then, you went to Iowa
and got your MFA. And then you came back, and
I love this, he came back to Nashville and you
worked at TGI Fridays. >> Right. >> And you were just
going to write. >> Yeah, and you know what? It's interesting you talk
about a message to a kid on a school visit, and I feel like my message is
no one's watching. There is no danger and no
one is watching, and own way, that can be the very
scariest thing. But what I learned over the
years of being a waitress and, you know, doing things
successfully, doing things
not-so-successfully, is that it really,
really doesn't matter. We're telling stories. We're not in the
position to hurt anyone. We're not in the position
to save the world. We're making art, and
it's such a privilege, and you make it primarily for
yourself, and then take it out into the world and share it. But I think that so many
people feel like, oh, you know, I can't do this. I'm going to be judged
or I can't speak my truth because it's going to
offend people in my family or people that I know. And what I have found more than
anything throughout the course of working in my life is that
it really doesn't matter, and therefore, you have this
tremendous freedom in that. If it really doesn't matter,
and nobody is watching, you should do your absolute
best, most creative, most experimental work
and tap into that part of yourself that's going to push
yourself farther and farther, because judgment really
isn't the problem. I say that as somebody who's
never looked on social media. You know, I exist in
this [audio cuts out]. >> [laughing] But it's
interesting because it's so much -- it's who you are
in the most profound way, because you know you,
and I'm saying you, Ann Padgett, you
know who you are. That makes it easier
to take that leap. It's also a wonderful
thing to go into schools and tell people that,
because you've got Lamb Slide, and you've got -- and that's
a picture book for kids, and you went into
schools, right? >> Well, I went with the
brilliant Robin Preiss Glasser, who was the illustrator and
had done the Fancy Nancy series and is so on fire in
front of a group of kids. It's the most amazing thing. Everything I know about
kids I learned from Robin. Neither one of us have children. We should put that
out there, too. >> Oh, you and I. Robin does. >> Right, Robin does, but you
and I do not have children, which I think is
[audio cuts out]. >> Yeah, but you and I
both, because we talk a lot about being kids, we remember -- I remember hearing
Beverly Cleary interviewed. She still alive, but this
is when she was like 98. Now she's like 102, and somebody
said, "Well, how do you get into the mind of
a fourth grader?" And she said, "That fourth
grader is right here." And that's the way it is for me, in even though you're
primarily adult, that child you is
right front and center. Do you think that that
child you also plays into the adult you writing? I've never thought to
ask you that before. >> Well, I think that the
child that I was plays into it, insofar as, again, I'm
the one-trick-pony, right? You know, I am continually that
one person doing this only thing that I want to do, the only
thing that I know how to do. But I think that is much
more interesting for you, because people must say to you
all the time, "How do you write for children if you
don't have children?" I mean, do you feel like that's
been a big issue in your career? >> It hasn't been a big
issue, but I just -- I remember the very first time I
got interviewed, and somebody -- the interviewer said,
"How you get into the mind of a 10-year-old?" And I remember being
gobstopped by the question, because to me the
answer was so obvious. Well, I was a 10-year-old. >> Right. >> You know, but I've found that
for a lot of people, they don't. They genuinely don't have
access to that 10-year-old, and for whatever reason, it is
just like Beverly Cleary said, it is right here for me, and
I feel from knowing you well that it's right there
for you, as well. But I think a lot of people just
consciously or subconsciously, they forget about that
child, and perversely enough, I feel like sometimes when
you have kids, you don't want to remember how painfully a lot
of you are as a 10-year-old, because you want to protect
your child from that. Do you think that that's true? >> I think that that's
a really good point. That maybe by not having
children, we were able to hold onto our own childhood
experiences, as opposed to trying to give
someone else some spectacular childhood experience, an idea of what a childhood should be
instead of what a childhood was, which was sort of [audio cuts
out] messy and depressing and scary and fun and very
creative and imaginative. One thing that I have really
found during this time of pandemic and being home
and locked down and quiet, I feel much closer to that
part of myself, because I feel like my professional self
has really fallen away. You know, the me that's always
getting on a plane and standing on a stage and giving a
talk and signing books and answering questions, it's
like that's all gone now. I'm just home and I'm myself,
and all this scaffolding of self-protection has really
come off, and I feel much, much closer to myself as a
child now than I ever have. >> That's a really,
really interesting point, and it's funny because I feel
like that has always been a part of me that writes, but that
10-year-old is also the person who goes on stage, which
is really interesting to me to think about that and to
parse it all out in my mind. And that is -- remember when I
did -- this was back, you know, before things changed,
and I had emailed you where I'd done a signing, and
a kid was leaning against me as I signed his book,
and his mother said, "Don't lean on her." And this little boy
said, "It's okay, mom. She knows me." And so, I feel like that kind of
-- which was, and I said to you that it made me tip sideways. It moved me so much that
this child said this. But it's that, I think, that
kids see that 10-year-old that I was when I'm up on stage. So, it's really interesting
to me, because I think that's
who I take on stage. I don't know if I have an adult
self that I take anywhere. Come on, Ann. It was a softball. I thought you would
[audio cuts out], you know, whack it out of the park. >> Dinner and the movies,
but, you know, definitely, I see your adult self, and
we've talked about this, how you have said to me people
feel so protective of you. People have such maternal
impulses towards you, your friends, which I
actually, I don't have that. >> Thanks for not wanting
to take care of me. Thank you. >> I really don't. I mean, I feel like we meet on
this very level playing field of equals, and it's so much
fun to talk about writing and, you know, what we're
doing, what we want to do, what we're struggling with, but
I don't think of you as a kid. We're the same [audio cuts out]. I'm like five or six
months older than you are. >> I knew that was going to
come up at one point or another. >> I'm the big sister, yeah. >> So, you're December,
and I'm -- yeah, you're four
months older than I am. And, you know, and this is -- >> In those four months. >> Ann, you know, it's
great because I think about how this whole
friendship has progressed and how much I've come to rely
upon you as a sounding board, not just for the stories,
but for just how we move through this time and how we
moved through the time before as like doing -- how do you
do this kind of signing? You know, all of that, you have
become so [audio cuts out]. I see you in the warp and
woof of my life in a way that is really profound to me,
and I would just like to say, as long as we're recording,
how much it means to me and how the kid part of me
did have to put aside the awe of Ann Patchett has emailed me. Now that is totally
gone and I'm no longer in awe of that whole -- >> That whole Ann
Patchett thing, right now. I remember one of the first
times I met you in Minneapolis, and you were like I can't
sit next to Ann Patchett. And I was like, oh,
could you give me break. I don't in any way see
myself as that person. So, I sort of feel
like you're teasing me. >> Oh, of course,
I'm not teasing you. Ann, you have to understand -- >> We should drop that
whole line of questioning. And you know what? We should also be thinking about moving this
conversation to the end. One of the things
about our friendship is that not only do we email each
other about 15 times a day, and you've come to visit
several times in Nashville, but we will get on the phone
and talk like crazy people for an hour and half, often when we're both walking
on treadmills. In one of the things
that I really love is that there are not a
lot of opportunities to when you're an adult, and
especially two adults that live in different states and
don't get to see each other that often, how we have a
very schoolgirl friendship. We have this sort of like, wait. Am I supposed to wear the blue
socks or the pink socks today? [ Laughing ] Here's another picture
of my dog. Can I have another
picture of your dog? I mean, the very mundane
level at which we interact, as well as the profound level, as well as like this is what
I'm struggling with in my work, and will you read this chapter? And I really want to get
your opinion on this. But then there's also, you know,
what did you have for breakfast? I don't know. What are you going to
have for breakfast? And that, to me, is what
real friendship is all about. Also, you are in the
process of becoming friends with my best friend from
when I was six years old, Taythia [assumed spelling]. So, there's that
transference going on, too. >> Yeah, it's deeply moving
to me to -- and I just -- because Taythia knows everything
about plants and flowers, and I just, right before
I got rid of my dog for this Zoom session, I was
walking up, and I'm like, oh, is that a moth or a butterfly? And I though, I'll have to
take a picture and ask Taythia. >> Yeah, [audio cuts out]
this is a great thing to know. When moth lights -- I used
to date a lepidopterist. When a moth lights,
always the wing closed. When a butterfly lights,
always the wings are open. >> Really? >> That's how you know. >> I'm more taken with the
sentence that you just said. I used to date -- >> A lepidopterist. Yes, yes. Who was [audio cuts
out], but then she changed to lepidoptery and
then became an expert in Internet poker, and a lawyer. [ Laughing ] [audio cuts out] in the world. Yeah. >> Oh, Ann, there's
an essay in that. There's an essay in that. So, Ann, you're looking
at the time. We didn't even talk
about Dutch House. >> Well, there it is. There it is, yeah, I wrote it. And also, I've got a children's
book that will have come out in September called
Escape Goat that Robin and I did together, which
is about building a wall, which is about blaming a
goat for all of the problems on the farm and building a
higher and higher wall trying to keep him out, but he keeps
jumping [audio cuts out] and he's blamed. The Escape Goat. >> Oh, how very, very timely. >> It's like Stella Endicott and
the Forever Poem, my favorite. >> Hey, what'd you eat
for breakfast, Ann? >> I had a bowl of
fruit and a cup and tea. It was nice, you? >> I love that you pointed
out how absolutely boring most of what we talk about is and
how fabulously interesting it is to me. So, yes. >> I just don't want people
to think that this is -- that we're Pound
and Eliot, really. [ Laughing ] As it's not true. There are two things that have
really helped me in this time. One of them is owning a
bookstore, and that's helped me for a couple of reasons. One, I feel like I can't protect
the world, which we all want to be able to do, but I
can protect the people who are working in that
store, and they're my family, and I love them so
much, and they show up, and they ship books, and
we do curbside delivery, and we stay in, and we're safe, and we're helping get the
books to the customers. And we have this incredible
sense of purpose right now. People need to read. People need to read all
the time, but right now, more than ever, the comfort
that people are finding in books is essential. So, the fact that Karen
Hayes [assumed spelling] and I have this store,
Parnassus Books, and we are able to get books to people and able to keep our staff
safe means the world. And then, as far as
writing is concerned, I find that I am a little
lost in that I haven't wanted to write a grown-up novel. I've been very interested
in writing essays. I've been interested
in writing nonfiction. It took me a long time
to find my sea legs, and now that I'm
really writing again, that's been a tremendous
comfort, but it's all about settling yourself. In a way, it's a kind of
meditation that you can, once again, sit quietly
in this hard, sad time. You can sit quietly with your
own thoughts and not look away, and when you can do that,
you find your strength and your peace, and that's
been a great gift for me. >> Yeah, and you know, I
hear you with the bookstore and I also hear you with the
writing, and what's always in the back of my mind with
me sitting down to write, because it does center me,
and it has, it's like -- and, you know, it takes so
long before the story goes out into the world, but oddly,
I feel like I'm connecting with people even when I'm
sitting down alone in the room and working on the
rough draft of something that no one will see for
years, literally years, and the other thing that
is so much at the forefront of my brain now as I do it
is that I want to do it -- I think specifically
about kids as I do it now, in that I want them to know
that to sit down and to connect with themselves this way is
something that they can do, and that we need their stories. And so, if I am encouraging
children and adults, too, to do that, to show up a
little bit each day to connect with that deeper part of
yourself and of humanity through writing a story
or writing an essay, if I can encourage
people to do that, then I'm duty-bound
to do it myself. So, I feel like how
am I doing anything for the world by doing that? I'm not, but yet, hopefully,
somebody can feel the energy of me sitting down and
think I will sit down, too. And that if we all tell our
stories, and if we all listen to each other stories,
we can find a way through this together. So, that's kind of
what's in my little brain. >> That's beautiful. You make me think
of Robert Kennedy. >> No one's ever said
that to me before, Ann. >> I love you, Kate. This is been great. >> This is been great. I love you, too, Ann. Thank you. [ Music ]
