All Categories - THE WORLD OF NANCY KRULIK

Long Time No Write

8/15/2025

I just realized it’s been about a year since I posted anything here.  I’m really sorry. Things in my wacky mind have just been MONSTROUSLY busy, and I've been needed elsewhere. Specifically, in a town known as Cliff’s Edge, the location of a new independently produced cartoon show I’ve created with my friend (and Emmy Award winner!) David Levin.  The show is called Monsters Aren’t Real??? and I think it will make you howl!

If you’ve flipped through this website, you know that I’ve written for TV shows before. But those were created by someone else, and all I had to do was write scripts for the already established characters. Someone else did everything else. There were directors, actors, puppeteers, head writers, crew members, publicists, marketers, and everyone else a network show needs to get off the ground and into people’s homes doing all the heavy lifting.  In many ways it was similar to how publishers and authors work together.

But creating a show from scratch is a whole other thing. David and I started with a little kernel of an idea—a town that might (or might not) be home to a lot of crazy, zany monsters. From there we built Emilia and Harlan—two best friends who disagree about whether or not there are actually any monsters in their town of Cliff’s Edge (thus the ??? in the title). They are the constants in the series.  After that, each episode is joined by what appears (at least to Harlan) to be a wacky zany monster.  Some are monsters you may already be familiar with—Frankenstein’s monster, a mummy, a werewolf, a swamp creature, a vampire, a zombie...). Others are monsters that David and I have created in our own wacky minds (the Beach Beast, the Pizza Creature, a Two-Headed shark, the Dust Bunnies...).  Familiar or not, the one thing the monsters all have in common is that they are all fiercely funny.

As for the animation, much of that is done with AI. It’s really the only affordable way independent producers can compete with the big guys.  But unlike other productions you may have seen on the web, Monsters Aren’t Real??? is a hybrid.  The scripts, the song lyrics and the voice actors are all human beings—not a monster in sight (unless you count me when I’m in a lousy mood).  That human element makes us stand out from the pack.  In the end, as helpful as AI may be, David and I are true believers that there is no substitute for human creativity and ingenuity.

Right now, the show is in production. But I will keep you posted about when the first few episodes launch.  In the meantime, you can check things out on our YouTube channel. We’re adding new material all the time, so subscribe now to be part of the Cliff’s Edge crowd with us. We promise to keep you laughing. Here's the link:
https://www.youtube.com/@MonstersArentRealCartoon/featured

Yours in Monsterdom,
Nancy

School's In Session!

9/13/2024

Let me begin by saying, living in New York City is never dull.  There is always something to do, somewhere to go and people to watch. But things in my neighborhood really perk up when September rolls around. That’s when the school yard across the street is filled with sounds of happy kids laughing, cheering, and just generally having a good time.  Right now, as I’m typing, I can hear a PE teacher blowing his whistle to start some sort of race. And in a few hours, the kids from the preschool down the block will come racing by, holding tight to their latest art project, or singing a song they learned in class. (My personal favorite was always my kids’ lunch song: First you take the baloney, then the maccaroni, then you take the cheese and the pepper makes you sneeze...aaaachooo!)  You don’t usually hear all that joy up and down the block during the summer.
Now don’t get me wrong.  I love summer.  The long sunny days, which offer plenty of hours to eat outside at cafes around the “neighb” are certainly something to celebrate. And of course, there are summer vacations—this year we went to Austria, Italy and France (where I got to visit the home of my favorite author, F. Scott Fitzgerald)—which create memories that last a lifetime.  But if you ask me, the best time of year is Fall, when school begins. As old as I am, to me the new year will always begin in September not January, because September (and in some places late August) is when kids everywhere are opening fresh new notebooks, writing with sharpened pencils that have not yet worn down the eraser or been chewed in the middle, and drawing with markers that have not yet had the chance to dry out, or crayons that have not been broken.  There’s a joy in that feeling of possibility.  I always remember thinking: this is going to be the best year yet!
For all of you out there, I certainly hope it is. And I also hope that as you move along through the school year, you remember that learning doesn’t just come from textbooks and homework assignments.  Sometimes it can come from just being with your friends and practicing kindness. Or playing a team sport and discovering ways to be a part of the whole.  Education can also come from mistakes—I like to think of those as opportunities to do better the next time and never give up.  Once in a while, lessons can even be learned by just sitting quietly by yourself, maybe reading, or drawing, or just staring up at the clouds.
As for me, I’m going to look at this new school year as one of possibilities, too.  I’m hoping to begin writing some new and different projects. I am working on things that are unlike those I’ve done before—working in new mediums and writing for different age groups. It’s a little scary, and a lot exciting.
Kind of like a new school year.
Here’s to a terrific Autumn 2024!
Xo
Nancy

Why I Write

7/21/2022

Kids have asked me why I became a writer so many times I could never count them all. That, along with where do your ideas come from, how old are you and how much do you make, is perhaps one of the most frequently asked questions I receive during school visits. (For the record, my ideas come from my life, my kids’ lives, things I see around me, and just about anywhere; I’m old enough to be the mom to any kid in the room and probably some of the teachers, and the income all depends on how many books I’ve sold that year). Usually, I tell kids I write because I want kids to learn to love reading as much as I do. And that’s the truth. But if I’m being honest, writing is a control thing for me. I think being a control freak is something many writers have in common. In my books, I make sure the bad guys get theirs in the end, that the hero is rewarded, and that kids have a semblance of power over their own lives. Let’s face it, when I write I create a universe of my own design, I can make the kid characters do exactly what I want them to do (something my own kids have never done!). The ability to spread laughter, kindness and fairness throughout my little fictional societies has been the thing that has carried me through difficult times over and over again. So, while kids my benefit from reading my books (and I hope they really bring them joy), no one has benefitted more than I have by writing them. At times of personal or political despair, no one is more of a friend to me than a boy who burps, or a princess who dares to pursue knighthood, or a chicken who wants to know of a life outside the coop.

I guess the next time a kid asks me why I write, I’ll have a better answer.

X0X0
N

2022: MAKE IT A DOG'S LIFE

1/2/2022

Right now, Scooby (who I believe to be the most incredible rescue dog on the planet) is happily sitting on my lap, making it hard to type, but also hard to be depressed about the state of the world. There are no thoughts of Omicron rising or climate change looming in his pretty little head. He’s just happy to have a warm lap, a full belly, and a few chew toys to destroy later in the day.

We have a lot we can learn from dogs. They eat when they see food and never worry about their weight; They love going outside and romping around in the mud, snow and leaves and never worry about getting dirty; They can spot a friend (dog lover) a mile away and never worry about making a bad impression, and they scratch wherever and whenever the itch. (Okay, maybe that last bit could be problematic, but what the heck). Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could all just take a little time each day to tune out the news, put away the devices, and just live a dog’s life?

So that’s my New Year’s wish for you. Turn off the computer, go outside, eat something delicious, and hug someone you love. Every. Single. Day.

Oh and read. Read a lot. Because the more we read, the more we learn, imagine, and (hopefully) laugh.

Much love to you in ’22.
Nancy

SCOOBY, FORMERLY JACOB

2/15/2021

Meeting Scooby, formerly Jacob for the very first time.

People ask me why I am so insistent about adopting my dogs from rescue organizations, rather than buying a dog from a breeder. Well, let me tell you the story of our newest family member, Scooby, formerly Jacob.

As some of you might know, our beloved beagle mix, Josie (a rescue from Arkansas who became the model for Sparky of Magic Bone fame) passed away this summer. My husband Danny and I were heartbroken. And the pain was so raw that we decided we would never get another dog.

But, as so many dog lovers before us have learned, that pain fades. And what comes in its place is a desire to have a new dog enter your lives. So, five months after we lost Josie, Danny and I started combing the online sites for another rescue dog.

For weeks and weeks, we would apply for one cute dog after another, preferably adult and housetrained. But not one of those rescue organizations called us back. We were very discouraged. And once in a while I would want to give up. I figured it was probably good news we weren’t getting a call. After all, it meant all those dogs had found furever homes. And maybe the universe had decided that we had been so lucky to have had our darling Pepper (the spaniel mix that was featured in my Katie Kazoo Switcheroo books) and sweet Josie, that it was someone else’s turn now. But it still hurt to not be the ones picked to be someone’s furever parents.

And then…it happened.

Not one hour after we applied for six-year-old Lhasa Apso rescue named Jacob, we got an email. The dog was being cared for by a foster mom who lived just three blocks away. Could we come meet him the next day?

Could we ever!

And so, 24 hours later, there we were, all masked up, and ready to meet Jacob in the lobby of his foster mom’s apartment building. We were warned that he had had a rough life, and probably been abused by men, because he growled at them and wouldn’t approach them. But that did not scare us off. Danny and I sat on the floor and waited for the precious little guy to come to us. As expected, he first walked nervously over to me. Then he nestled in my lap, letting me pet him. I was in love immediately.

But there was still the problem of how the dog would relate to my husband.

Danny reached out a hand for the little dog to sniff. Something about that sniff must have been magical, because not a minute later, he had left me and was nestled in Danny’s arms, allowing himself to be pet and cuddled.

As we sat on the floor with the dog, we heard his story. As best as his foster mom could put it together, Jacob had been owned by a Llhasa Apso breeder, and never been outside. He spent most of his time in a cage. Eventually, he developed an infection which meant he had to be neutered. Since he couldn’t be of any use to a breeder after that, they dumped him in a kill shelter. It breaks my heart to think of how frightened he must have been, all alone in another cage, in a strange place.

Believe me I know how horrible this story sounds, but I assure you, that was a lucky break for the little Lhasa Apso. The rescue group saved him from the kill shelter. They took him to a wonderful vet who not only neutered him but cleaned his teeth and checked his health inside and out. Then his foster mom brought him home and taught him to walk on a leash. Finally, he was ready to have his cute little face posted on the online adoption sites. To do that, he also needed a name, She called him Jacob.

When it came time to end our first meeting with the small white and brown dog, I whispered in his ear—“Now don’t you be nice to any of the other people who are coming to meet you. Growl at them. Make sure we are the ones picked to be your new family.”

When I got home, I did all the things you are supposed to do when you are trying to adopt a dog. I gave the foster mom the names of our references and our veterinarian. I wrote her a thank you note for letting us meet him, and assuring her we were very much interested in being his furever family.

And then we waited.
And waited.
And waited some more.

For three long days, I waited by the phone. So did my friends. So did my vet, who we had alerted that she might get a call.

But no calls came.

Until three days later. Then there were a flurry of calls. First to my vet, and then to our references. And then on Monday morning our phone rang…

“Hello Nancy? I was wondering, are you still interested in adopting Jacob?”

Was I still interested? Uh yeah. I’d thought of nothing else all week. “Of course we are,” I replied.

“Well, then congratulations. You can come get him tomorrow.”

Even as I’m writing this, my heart is pounding and I’ve got goosebumps. Up until that moment I hadn’t let myself get too excited—in case everything fell through. But once I knew he was ours, I went into full-on dog mom mode. My husband and I gave up on working that day. Instead we hit every pet shop in the neighborhood, buying bowls, dogfood, a harness, a tiny coat, dog toys and a cushiony bed for our new arrival.

There was still one more detail to tend to. The dog didn’t seem like a Jacob to us. And besides, we figured, he hadn’t been with his foster mom long enough to get used to the name. So we didn’t feel bad at all about giving him a name that seemed to fit him better. It was Danny who came up with his name. Scooby. A new name for his new life.

I didn’t sleep at all that whole night. All I thought about was how we were getting a new dog. The next morning, I practically danced the whole way over to his foster mom’s apartment building, with Scooby’s new coat and leash in hand.

And as I danced through the streets of Manhattan, I thought about the life we were going to give this dog. My husband and I had promised ourselves we were going to make up for the rough first chapter this little guy had been forced to endure. He was going to take walks in Central Park. He was going to take happy car rides. And he was going to be loved. He would never want for a lap to sit on, or a person to cuddle with again. He deserved nothing less.

Scooby has been in our life for nearly four weeks now. I have never known a dog to want more cuddles, or to so passionately adore sitting on a lap for hours on end. But the most exciting thing for him is when his coat comes out of the closet and he knows he’s going outside. Boy does he love going outside.

Now, there are some who might say Scooby was lucky he met my husband and me. But I would disagree. I think we’re the lucky ones. Because seeing how happy Scooby is at the slightest things—be it his first time in the snow, or managing to scarf up a taco chip that “accidentally” fell off the table, is a thrill and an honor for us. Watching his little tail wag wildly when I walk in the door, and having his rough little tongue kiss my face is magical. (Okay, maybe not when he gets it too close to my mouth, but nothing is perfect.)

I am hoping that some day Scooby will forget his rough days in a cage, and just be a happy little dog. But having had rescue dogs before, I know that he will always be a little more grateful than dogs who come from breeders or pet shops, because he will know how tough things can actually be, and they won’t. I’m just glad that I get to be the one who shows him how good the world can be when you have folks who love you.

PANDEMIC PASSIONS

11/30/2020

Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans…
Man plans—God laughs…
The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry…

Well, you get the picture. Like so many people, I had tons of plans for this holiday season.  I was going to go to see my kids in California for Thanksgiving.  I was going to attend at least three concerts, and maybe a Broadway show or two. I’d have celebratory lunches with my editors, like I’ve done for years now.

Unfortunately, none of that happened.  Stupid Covid.

Still, I promise you this isn’t going to be yet another a griping blog post.  Although there is much to gripe about.

Nope, this is actually going to be a post about what I am learning about myself as I find myself pretty much isolated as the pandemic drags on.  And I bet a lot of what I’ve discovered about me is similar to what you have learned about yourself.

For starters, I have learned that I am truly passionate about writing.  Now you may think that’s a funny thing for an author to learn this far down the line.  But truthfully, I’ve never thought about it before. I just got up and wrote every morning. It was what I did.  Like any other job.  Until the pandemic.  That’s when I became truly grateful for things like language and imagination. Writing has been a godsend during the past few months.  I’ve been creating two new series, which basically means I’ve been designing and controlling two new universes, and meeting new characters who are now as real to me as the friends I zoom with or walk with in the park (at a proper social distance, with masks.  Promise).  The adage is true—if you love what you do you’ll never work a days in your life. This is why it’s so important to find a passion in life.  I’m not saying that everyone will be lucky enough to make their passion their profession, but having something you love to do on your own is certain to give you a sense of satisfaction.  Whether your passion is exercise, or knitting, or playing guitar, that passion will give you a goal to shoot for.  Imagine waking up in the morning saying to yourself, “Today I will run another half mile.” Or “Today’s the day I’m going to finish that scarf.” Or “Today I’m going to write that song that’s been dying to burst out of me.” Having that kind of passion will make the days go faster.

I have also learned who my real friends are.  I have always prided myself on having a lot of friends. But there’s a difference between people who you are friendly with and who your true friends are.  True friends are the ones who check in on you to make sure you’re okay.  They’re the ones you call first when you feel like talking while you walk in the park. And they’re the ones who are as happy for  your successes as you are for yourself. During this pandemic I have reconnected with friends from all stages of my life, and I’ve been amazed at how when someone is a true friend, you can pick up where you left off without skipping a beat—even if its been more than a year since you last spoke or saw one another. We are all craving human contact, and I am no different.  I’ve always been passionate about people.  Which is why I’m so grateful for zoom and cell phones.  I can’t even imagine the isolation folks who lived through the 1918 pandemic must have felt.

I have alsorediscovered my passion for music.  Lately, sitting in the backroom, listening to old vinyl on a turntable has become my gift to myself.  After a day of writing, cleaning, cooking, and checking in on loved ones, there is nothing more joyous than pulling out an album I’ve had since middle school and reliving the memories that only a really wonderful song can bring out.  Having a husband who is a musician, you would think I would always appreciate such things.  But I think I took music for a granted for a long time.  In my house it’s always been around us, all the time.  I even have a whole wall decorated with various percussion instruments in my front hall. I usually play CDs while I write. And of course my husband will just noodle around on the piano whenever the mood strikes.  That’s all nice.  But I’ve found the concentrated, purposeful listening to music to be one of the greatest gifts I can give myself these days.

And then there’s reading. I have always been a voracious reader—most writers are.  But I didn’t always make time for reading the way I should have.  There was always too much to do. So much wandering around the city. Errands to run.  Classes at the gym.  Deadlines to meet.  Lunches with friends.  That new boutique to check out.  Dinner to cook.  It seems as though staying put during the pandemic has given me extra hours in a day. Which has allowed me to reignite the passion of reading, whether it’s discovering new authors, or re-reading some of my old favorites.

As I re-read what I’ve been writing here, I discover one word is popping up over and over.  Now in a book, the copy editor would have flagged that, and told me to come up with another term.  But in this case, I am kind of enjoying seeing how many times I’ve typed the word PASSION.  I think in the end, when I look back on this whole mess, I will remember two things: Of course, the people we have all lost (because it seems everyone knows someone who has fallen victim to this horrid disease), but also the parts of myself once lost and now found.

I know I’m not the only one who has experienced this during the past 9 or 10 months.  For instance, my kids have become more passionate about things in their lives—you should see the photos of my daughter’s new garden or read her latest brilliant manuscript; and I wish you could hear my son discuss the writing of his latest song, or explain what he’s learned through his new interest in finance.  As for my husband, I hope you will check out Daniel Burwasser’s latest music on his website.  My parents have discovered the fun of jigsaw puzzles—well, probably not the puzzles so much as the joy of working on projects together now that they don’t have so many different activities taking them in separate directions.

So now it’s your turn. What new passions have you sparked during the pandemic? What magic have you rediscovered?  And more importantly, how do you plan to hold on to those passions once we’ve turned the corner and returned to “normal” life?

Coming to a School Near You!

2/29/2020

“I didn’t know there was a real Nancy Krulik.”

That’s what a girl said to me once at a book signing I did years ago in Bryant Park. My son, who was 10 at the time, and therefore still interested in going to his mom’s book signings, thought that was hilarious. But I knew what she meant.  If you’ve never met an author, it can be easy to think that books are their own creations.  That they somehow just spring up out of nowhere.

Truth is, that’s a compliment.  She might have meant that my characters seemed so real to her that she felt they had written their own story.  Sometimes it actually feels that they are.  But of course that only comes when I’ve been writing the characters a long time. New characters are as much strangers to me as the people I may meet in a store or at the gym.  (And yes, I’m one of those people who makes up backstories in my head for just about everyone I meet.)

But I want kids to know that there’s a real Nancy Krulik.  And more importantly,  I want them to know that they can write stories too.  Because we all have stories to tell.  We just have to have someone tell us it’s okay, and even fun, to let them out.

So why am I telling you this now?  Probably because I have a school visit coming up this week, and I’m planning out all the fun things we’re going to do when I get there.  I love making school visits.  The kids are so excited to have a guest (hey, they’re not in class, so I’m already a hero right?) and often they have good questions that make me think. So it’s a lot of give and take right there.

Oh, and everytime I go to a school, I come home exhausted. And with a new respect for teachers.  Because encouraging kids is a hard job.  I really don’t know how they do it every day.

SIX MONTHS???

12/17/2019

How can it have been six months since I last posted on this blog? Man, does time fly. But here we are. December. The end of the teens and heading into the 20s. As many of you know, I've been obsessed with the 20s for a long time. But now I will have to say the 1920s, because the days of F. Scott Fitzgerald and Ernest Hemingway are nearly 100 years ago.

But that doesn't make their books any less magical, or meaningful. That's the great thing about literature that touches your heart or makes you think--it's ageless. Which is something I remember when I pull out The Sun Also Rises or Tender Is The Night for like the four thousandth time.

Books have the ability to take you on a time travel--and not only when they really are about A Wrinkle In Time. When you re-read a favorite book you are magically transported back to the time you first met those characters. The first time you felt their pain, or celebrated their successes, or snuck a peek at the last chapter to make sure things turned out okay in the end. It's a magic that can't be found in a movie, or on TV. Sometimes a favorite smell has a similar power, but not in the same way.

I'm sure everyone has that one or two books that bring them they same such joy. And I hope you will take the time to re-read those books over this holiday break.

Sending you love, light, and joy for the next decade! (although I promise to post here a lot sooner than 2029!)
xo
N

June 08th, 2019

6/8/2019

SHEDDING

I woke up this morning to dog fur.  Everywhere.

Now it’s not like I don’t vacuum and dust up Josie's fur every day.  But for some reason it seems my dog decided last night was a good time to roll around on every carpet in the apartment.  So I spent the morning vacumming, dusting and mopping like a wild woman.  And I could knit another dog with all the fur I picked up.  If I knew how to knit. Or spin fur into wool.

Of course, I can’t blame Josie. After all, it’s shedding season. And  not just for dogs.  For people too.  This is the time we shed all the coats and sweaters we’ve been wearing for months. The boots get put away for another season, and a new pair of sandals takes their place.

It’s also a good time to let go of whatever stresses, strains or frustrations the winter put on our shoulders.  The wind, the cold, and the darkness all leave a mark on our psyches I think. (Not to mention exams, homework, and study stress for those of you still in school)  But just as the leaves are reborn on the trees, new flowers spring up from the ground and the baby birds suddenly appear and take flight, so should we see the summer as a fresh start.  Shed the problems past and walk in the sunlight.  It’s a time for new beginnings.

I’m working on some new things as well. And I'm having a blast doing it (because it's gonna be funny, wild and just a little magical. Would you expect anything less?). I will tell you all about them soon. Promise  But for now, I’ve got to move the piano and get the Swiffer duster out.  Because I think there’s probably a whole lot of white fur hiding back there, too.

Enjoy the summer everyone!

XOXO
N

WHERE DID THE TIME GO?

3/30/2019

Yikes!  I didn’t realize it had been so long since I posted a blog here.   There’s something about winter—maybe it’s those short days—that makes me kind of lazy. So I apologize for not being in touch more here.

It’s not that I wasn’t doing anything while it was cold and windy outside.  For starters I visited Iceland, and got the chance to see the Northern Lights, which was a major bucket list moment for me.  The lights did not disappoint.  They danced in the sky in a show that rivals anything I’ve ever seen on Broadway. Iceland is really a remarkable place.  And I will never forget seeing the volcanoes, glaciers, geysers and frozen waterfalls. Land of Fire and Ice indeed.

And then there was my trip to Israel.  PJ Library sent 18 meshugana children’s book authors on a wild tour of Israel that included a hike straight up the side of a canyon with no barriers to break our falls (I think a lot of us found religion there!), a visit to  Jerusalem and Tel Aviv and the Negev, and lots and lots of hummus. (I don’t think there’s a better place to be a vegan than Israel!) Many of us got ideas in Israel, and hopefully you will be seeing many books inspired by this trip in stores from us in the coming years.

I traveled quite a bit for work as well, visiting schools in the states, talking with kids about writing, and reading, and what it’s like to live in New York City (that’s always a big topic—it seems the Big Apple is still a magical place in so many people’s minds, including mine, and I’ve lived here almost all of my life.)

And I’ve been writing. A lot.  Princess Pulverizer has gone on a few adventures on her Quest of Kindness since I last blogged, and I am excited for you all to keep reading along with her.  Will the princess who longs to be knight ever earn her way into knight school? Only time will tell (because I certainly won’t).

And now that the flowers are beginning to bloom in Central Park, and the days are longer, I’m heading out on new adventures—a school book tour this May is the first, one which culminates with an appearance at Kid’s Con New England (more info can be find on my website), an event I’ve never attended.  I have new writing projects too, which I can’t wait to announce (I just can’t right now, but soon I promise.)

I know there’s a lot of anger and frustration around, but I’m trying to look at the bright side of life every day.  Because there is so much good in the world.  Sunshine.  Birds returning to Central Park.  Blossoms on the trees. And kids who love to read.  Because   by reading will can all discover worlds beyond our own echo chambers. And there hasn’t never been a more important time for that.

I promise to write more often.  Okay, not promise.  But I will try.

And as they say in Israel, I wish you all Shalom, Salaam and Peace.
xo
n