Dairy Queen (26 page)

Why don't you give names to D.J.'s parents?

It's great—so many people don't even realize this, and then later they'll ask, "What was D.J.'s mother's name again?" For the record, both parents do have names in my head. But I was quite tickled by the notion that D.J. wouldn't ever provide them. I mean, why would she? She's still at an age where they're übermom and überdad. She doesn't see them having identities separate from her own.

You don't skirt around the complicated relationship D.J. has with Amber.

No, although it's not like I'm breaking new ground. I knew from the beginning that I'd have to address homosexuality at some point. Writing a story about a large, strong, assertive girl playing the hypermasculine sport of football really brings that issue to the fore. But—given the inspirational dream I'd had—I very much wanted D.J. to be straight, and I loved the contrast between the "butch jock" stereotype being forced on her and her own passionate feelings for Brian. In a way, she's forced to break just as many boundaries in her yearnings for a hand
some, popular boy as Amber is in her yearnings for D.J. That said, I didn't originally intend for Amber to be gay. But D.J. needed to become increasingly isolated over the course of the summer, even from her best friend, and this seemed like an good way to develop her estrangement.

Has writing
Dairy Queen
changed you in any way?

It's made me a more forgiving person. One of my all-time favorite books is
A Girl Named Zippy.
I was so impressed with how empathetically Haven Kimmel treated all her characters, and I tried to apply that empathy and forgiveness in my own writing, to my interpretations of people, and even to my own past. For example, it's easy to be snide about cheerleaders, but I decided early on that I wouldn't. For one thing, D.J., by that point in the story, is going through so many traumas with her family that I couldn't pile on any more high school angst. But I also went to school with cheerleaders, I took classes with them, I was friends with a couple, and as far as I could tell they had blood and hearts and feelings just like the rest of us. It meant a lot to me, how supportive the cheerleaders in
Dairy Queen
were of D.J.

Also, I've become quite the milk drinker, even though I was a soy girl before this. And I now read the sports section every day. I'm pretty sure I'm never going to paint my face green, but I was as pleased as anyone (well, not anyone—Philadelphia has some pretty rabid football fans) when the Eagles made it to the Super Bowl.

What's the biggest surprise to come from
Dairy Queen?

So many people have contacted me about their own farming experiences—that's something I never would have predicted, the amazing number of Americans who still have a personal connection to the farm, through a childhood friend or a relative, a community ... The soil isn't nearly as far away as I had thought. I also get a charge out of hearing all the interpreta tions that readers come up with—this is what I mean about writers not being omniscient. For example, I gave a copy of
Dairy Queen
to my dentist, and on my next visit he told me how great it was that I captured Curtis looking at his hands. (During the ride back from Madison, when he and D.J. are talking about his wanting to be a dentist, Curtis studies his hands.) "Hands are so important to a dentist," my own dentist said. "You really nailed that." I nodded, but actually I'd had no idea—I was simply trying to convey that Curtis was embarrassed. My dentist also said that he'd collected animal skulls when he was a kid, and agreed that it was very hard to locate intact mandibles. So that made me feel a little better, that just from my imagination I managed to produce a real-life detail. That sort of serendipity keeps me going.

You wrote
Dairy Queen
as a stand-alone novel. How does it feel now that it's the first book of a trilogy?

Isn't that funny? I wrote
Dairy Queen
never intending—never dreaming!—that there'd be a sequel, and then I wrote
The Off Season
the same way. I cannot imagine beginning a seven-book
series; just the thought of so much outlining makes me queasy. And yes, there are some elements to
Dairy Queen
I wished later that I could tweak. But not much. In fact, it's uncanny how
Dairy Queen
sets up the next two books. Beaner, for example. I always knew Beaner liked D.J., but even I didn't realize how much. Yet even in
Dairy Queen,
he's keeping tabs on Brian. I'd like to say this was intentional, but then people might expect me to be that smart all the time! I also love how D.J. develops across the three books. She's the same person throughout, but the trials she faces, and the work she puts into overcoming them, bring her so much insight and self-confidence and empathy ... so much maturity. She grows up. I love her at the beginning of
Dairy Queen,
but by the end of
Front and Center
I love her even more.

Princess Ben: Being a Wholly Truthful Account of Her Various Discoveries and Misadventures, Recounted to the Best of Her Recollection, in Four Parts

"Your behavior is despicable!" the prince snapped.

"In what way?" I snapped back. "You have no cause to criticize me."

"No cause? I vowed, the moment I left that cursed Blue Room and your conniving sorcery, never to speak of what I had witnessed, and until this day I had no incentive to do so. Since our arrival in this demon castle, however, as I witness your handiwork, I cannot but fear for the preservation of all that I hold dear."

"My handiwork? As hostess and emissary?"

"Emissary? Hostess? Do not toy with me! I am no longer some innocent trapped by your lies and spell work! I demand, should you value your life and the lives of your people, to break at once the enchantment you have placed upon my father!"

So staggered was I by this fallacious and spiteful accusation that I nigh broke my ankle on the ridiculous heels on which I tottered. "Enchantment, you say? It is enchantment to practice dance for hour after hour, day after day, with a man who reeks of fish? To ride, and write, and prattle incessantly about nothing whatsoever? To stitch enough handkerchiefs to dam the Great River itself, and bully one's body into clothes more suitable for martyrs than ladies?" I snatched up one of my cursed slippers. "Does this smack of magic to you? Because allow me to inform you, my handsome young prince, that this be not enchantment—it be work!"

With that, I hurled the slipper at him, not caring if I caused his decapitation. (I did not.) Marshaling what little dignity I yet possessed, I stomped down the corridor—challenging indeed with one shoe—and around the corner.

I lay awake for hours. The prince had no right, not one, to indict me so, and if I had held the slightest hope of the magic book's assistance, I would have climbed at once to my wizard room for a spell with which to punish him. Death, perhaps, or humiliation. A croaking frog would be nice, particularly a frog that retained Florian's dark eyes. I should keep it in a box and poke it occasionally with a stick; that would be satisfying indeed.

Calming myself in degrees with such pleasant notions, I drifted at last to sleep.