That year, ALA Midwinter was in Philadelphia. It was very cold. I was very cold, too. Indeed, I had a bad case of the flu, the worst I have ever had.

I had been invited to the ­conference — the only time in my career I have attended Midwinter. The invitation came from Simon & Schuster to help promote an unusual book for me, a picture book, Silent Movie, which was just about to be released. The book was my attempt to replicate the experience of watching an early-­twentieth-century film.

One didn’t turn down such an invitation. So I left my Denver home (much warmer than Philadelphia!) and flew east. As I traveled, my flu got worse. I checked in to my hotel, informed my publisher I was there, and began my round of events to promote the picture book. There were social gatherings, meals, and, in regard to Silent Movie, a highly effective photo-show of the book, complete with music.

Between events, meetings, signings, and socializing, I hurried back to my hotel room. I was getting sicker. I wrapped myself in a blanket, drank hot tea, and tried to figure out the earliest time I could get back to Denver. Nothing I ate stayed down. I changed my airline ticket.

On Sunday morning I joined a breakfast sponsored by HarperCollins, hosted by the inimitable Bill Morris. I told him I needed to leave early to catch a plane. At my table were a couple of people from the ­Newbery committee. I was dull. I ate nothing. I kept checking the time. I just wanted to get out of there. At the earliest possible polite moment, I excused myself and, muttering multiple thanks, raced for the airport.

When I got home, waiting for me was the draft of a letter my college daughter had composed, in which she was applying for summer employment. She needed to have the letter by the next day. I promised to edit it in the morning. Still sick, I took to bed. ­Monday morning, I was up at six. Still sick. Being the dutiful parent, I set about rewriting my daughter’s letter. At 7:00 a.m. I was at my computer — ­editing that letter — when the phone rang. It was Starr LaTronica.

“Congratulations,” she said. “You have won the Newbery Award for your book, Crispin: The Cross of Lead.” There was cheering in the background.

My very first thought? Uh-oh, the next one had better be good. Then I burst into tears. “What’s the matter?” asked my wife.

“I won the Newbery Award.”

Things moved fast. (First, I finished my daughter’s letter.) There were many calls. Among them a summons from the book’s publisher, Hyperion, to come to New York City. Once I arrived, there was a round of meetings. With Donna Bray, my editor. The publisher. My agent, Gail Hochman. I was on the TODAY show, other interviews, etc. It was an exciting two-day whirlwind.

At some point — I’m not sure when — I suddenly realized something: my terrible flu had completely vanished.

What did I learn from this experience? If you get a bad case of the flu, the Newbery Award will cure it. (And my daughter got the job.)

From the May/June 2022 special issue of The Horn Book Magazine: The Newbery Centennial.