The Complex World of Andrew Clements
By Becky Rodia, Senior Editor

Seventy feet away from the rear corner of an ordinary-looking suburban home in Westborough, MA stands an ordinary-looking storage shed; the kind of outbuilding that's generally used for the storage of lawnmowers, edgers, clippers, perhaps a ladder.

This particular shed, however, contains nothing of the sort. Things happen inside this shed. In fact, if you were to ask the neighbors about it, some of them might tell you that the man who lives in the house goes into the shed quite often – sometimes even late at night – and doesn't come out for hours at a time.

A one-man lifeboat. "Not many people know what this place is," the owner of the shed admitted to Teaching K-8's intrepid reporters. "There are a lot of sheds in the neighborhood, but none quite like this one."

Andrew gives Senior Editor Becky Rodia a tour of his customized writing shed – note the air conditioner and the stove pipe.

Indeed, we were amazed to find that, not only did the shed contain a cot and a desk, it was also, insulated, paneled and wired for electricity and air conditioning. The tiny interior was rustic, but cozy; a perfect solitary writing space for its occasional inhabitant, author Andrew Clements.

Andrew had the shed built four years ago, after one of his sons – he has four, all of whom are musicians – moved a drum set into the house. "Think of the shed as a little lifeboat," he told us. "When you have a big gang of kids around – and even three or four can seem like a big gang – your life really is not your own until late at night. So I tend to do a lot of writing between 11:30 p.m. and two or three in the morning. I love the quiet that descends when it gets late."

Life serves art. That's not to say, however, that Andrew tries to carry on in isolation. He speculated that being a writer is probably "exponentially easier" if one doesn't care about having a family life, but Andrew definitely cares. "I draw a lot of sustenance from other activities," he told us. "Our twin sons recently went off to college, so there were two completely different and varied college searches. Then there's the town – we're involved with the sports teams and supporting the school band. It goes on and on. My writing would suffer if I didn't do these things."

We agree; Andrew's most popular books – among them are The School Story, A Week in the Woods, The Landry News and the contemporary classic, Frindle (all from Simon & Schuster) – all take place in school settings. The engaging, often surprising, plots are populated with some of the most believable, complex characters found in today's children's literature.

Andrew, a former classroom teacher, believes that schools are the center of any community. "So much happens at a school," he said. "The parents in town care deeply about the school because that's where their children are. Almost everyone's experience is bound up very closely with school. A school means politics and ideas and growth and change and progress. I've found school to be a very fruitful place."

Andrew also has a work space in his basement (above left) where he tends to work on final drafts. The papers clipped to the wall give new meaning to the term "vertical file!" Above right, Andrew shows us copies of his books in other languages. He keeps several copies of each, to give to his four sons someday.

Very nearly naughty. Andrew's books combine the fruitfulness and creativity found at schools with the structure and expectations that are also found there. In Frindle, a book about a boy who invents a new word for "pen," dozens of kids get into trouble for using the new word after their teachers have told them not to. In The School Story, a young girl writes a novel and gets it published with the assistance of her best friend and a teacher who isn't sure if she should be helping the girls do things like hire a telephone service for their "office."

When we asked if he'd ever been criticized for creating characters who walk the fine line between expressing individuality and merely being disobedient, Andrew replied, "I have. But you do meet boys and girls who know just how far to push things. They're what a good friend of mine called 'very nearly naughty.' Their behavior is usually a function of intelligence; they're looking for stuff to do!"

Naughty or not, many of Andrew's main characters are rebels with a cause; kids like Nick, the young wordsmith of Frindle, who "[has] plenty of ideas and [knows] what to do with them." Andrew's characters are complex because people are complex – full of doubts and fears, secrets and strengths.

"Your audience will tell you, and your good editors will tell you if you've created a teacher character or a student character who isn't believable," he explained. "But if a character has that ring of truth to it, then...truth is truth. You can't argue with truth."

Andrew's newest book, The Report Card (Simon & Schuster), deals with the timely topic of assessment. An extremely gifted girl decides it's not fair that she and her friends are judged and labeled according to how they perform on standardized tests, so she purposely does poorly in school. Andrew says that the book doesn't provide any answers on how to handle assessment, but that he hopes he's captured the anxiety he has seen among students, teachers and administrators.

The ultimate writing gadget? Another truth that Andrew Clements faces is that writing is hard work. He admits to having to force himself to write: "A lot of it is just finding the time – making the time," he told us.

An avowed "gadget nut" (a passion evidenced by the descriptions of camping gear found in A Week in the Woods), he says that there is no "writing gadget" – nothing that does the writing for you. Even what seems to be the greatest writing gadget of them all – Andrew's customized writing shed – can't actually do the writing for you. "It's a hard lesson, but true," he said.

And so, the shed has no phone, no television, no stereo, not even an Internet connection. Andrew keeps the windows covered, because he finds himself watching the birds outside, instead of writing.

Andrew's smart, realistic books are an indication that this isolation-tank strategy works. In our increasingly complex world, perhaps many of us could benefit from a secret backyard shed of our own. For now, we can enjoy the literary results of the time Andrew Clements spends in his "lifeboat."

November/December, 2003, Vol.34, No.3