Q&A with Avi Luxenburg, author of Fanny Berk Strikes Back

Avi Luxenburg and the original Buddy

1. This book is the first in a series. What made you decide to write a series, or did the idea of the series come as you wrote the book?

Fanny Berk Strikes Back wasn’t originally meant to be the start of a series. I wrote the first draft in just five weeks—the story poured onto the page, and the action unfolded at breakneck speed. But writing a novel isn’t just about getting words down; it’s about wrangling characters who have minds of their own. No matter how much I planned, they had their own ideas. Time and again, they surprised me—saying or doing something unexpected and throwing my carefully laid-out plot into chaos. More than once, I had to stop, sit back, and ask myself, “NOW WHAT?”

As I neared the end, it became clear: these characters weren’t done. They weren’t ready to walk away, and neither was I. The final scene—where Fanny’s newly formed team is approached for their services—wasn’t something I consciously designed to set up a sequel. It simply happened, unfolding naturally from the characters’ needs to grow, evolve, and build themselves into a league of young heroes. That’s when I knew: this was just the beginning.

2. Please talk about the process of writing a series. Are you the type of writer to plan out the series in advance or are you winging it? What are the advantages and disadvantages of both?

Writing a series is a bit like investing in the stock market. You can research, study patterns, listen to the experts, and plan meticulously—but in the end, the market does whatever the hell it wants. Some solid companies tank for no reason, while unexpected trends shoot to the top. Writing is the same. I can map everything out, but my characters have a knack for upending my plans and scattering them across the floor. And there I am, hunting for a mop.

Okay, maybe it’s not that bad.

I have four more books planned for Fanny and her Motley Crew. Book Two is firmly lodged in my brain, and I’m deep into research. Of course, I keep reminding myself: “Good luck with that. Hopefully, your research isn’t wasted when one of your characters decides to zig instead of zag.” The only book I haven’t nearly locked down is Book Four—that’s my wildcard, my way of telling my characters, “I’m ready for whatever you throw at me. Bring it.”

But then came Book Five. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It takes place about five years after the first book, and I got so caught up in it that I actually started writing. I was having so much fun—researching EMP devices, Russian terrorism, and all sorts of thrilling mayhem. I had new lead characters ready to bridge the Motley Crew into a whole new series alongside a team of global influencers. My heart was pounding as I wrote.

And then I stopped.

What the hell was I doing? A YA audience isn’t going to jump from Book One to Book Five and back again. I forced myself to take a breath, step back, and return to reality. But something clicked—I suddenly knew where I wanted the Motley Crew to end up by Book Five. I had goals for each of them, a sense of where their journeys would take them. Now all I need is for them to cooperate.

So, to actually answer your question: Planning is fun. Writing is fun. And dealing with my characters’ refusal to behave? That’s hysterically fun.

3. Your book very strongly presents a theme of antisemitism (and a virulent, violent antisemitism) in modern day Canada. Can you talk about what sorts of antisemitism that people of Jewish descent face in North America today? Would a young woman of Fanny's age be likely to face this kind of antisemitism? Why or why not?

Following the October 7, 2023, Hamas attack on Israel, the Anti-Defamation League reported over 10,000 antisemitic incidents in the U.S. within a year—the highest number recorded since tracking began in 1979. Israel’s response to that attack has only intensified antisemitic sentiment, bringing long-simmering prejudice to the surface in ways we haven’t seen in decades.

In my small town on the West Coast of Canada, I don’t see this firsthand. But my sister, who teaches at an Ontario university, works with Jewish students who are afraid to let others know they’re Jewish. They tuck away their Star of David, avoid wearing a kippah, and sit through lectures where some professors push a one-sided narrative. They’re nervous—constantly weighing whether it’s safe to be visible. It’s disheartening. I can’t help but wonder: How different is this from what Jewish communities faced in pre-WWII Germany?

It’s not just universities. In February 2024, Jewish high school students at El Camino Real Charter in Los Angeles staged a walkout to protest antisemitic harassment at their school. Their courage gives me hope—but the fact that they had to do it speaks volumes. A recent ADL study found that 24% of Americans now hold deeply antisemitic views, with younger generations increasingly exposed to anti-Jewish rhetoric. Gulp.

So, is there a problem? No more than there always has been. But when society makes it more "acceptable"—when the stigma of antisemitism fades—it oozes back into the open.

Fanny’s story is larger than life, but parts of it are painfully real. The antisemitic attack on her family isn’t some over-the-top fiction—it’s rooted in real fears and experiences that Jewish communities, including young people, still face today. That sense of vulnerability, of being targeted just for existing, is something I wanted to capture with emotional honesty.

But Fanny Berk Strikes Back also delves into a connected social problem: bullying.

As an educator, I spent years trying to combat bullying in schools—and honestly, I failed more often than I succeeded. Sometimes, the most powerful solutions don’t come from teachers or administrators. They come from the students themselves.

I remember a situation in middle school: A Grade Nine boy mocked a Grade Seven girl online for her music taste. His friends piled on, isolating and humiliating her. Then something incredible happened.

Another Grade Seven girl stepped in. Calmly, intelligently, and fearlessly, she called out the bullying. And it worked. Other students followed her lead, the boy’s friends backed off, and the tide turned—not because of adult intervention, but because one student had the courage to take a stand.

That’s the heart of Fanny Berk Strikes Back—finding strength, not just in yourself, but in the people who stand with you. In my mind, the antidote for bullying and antisemitism (or any type of racism) are the same.

Yeesh. Lecture over.

4. Fanny experiences something almost magical when she moves into Flow. Can you talk a little bit about the history of Flow in martial arts? Have you experienced Flow yourself? How is Fanny's experience of Flow classic and how might it differ from classic martial arts' descriptions of Flow?

As an educator, I ran courses on Flow. I created videos on Flow. I worked hard to help my students find Flow. I even tried to get parents to understand why video games are so addicting for their children—because they are “Flow Machines,” designed to pull players into Flow and keep them there for as long as possible.

Flow fascinates me. It’s what we writers crave in our practice—that magical state where words pour onto the page, time disappears, and everything just works. To my mind, Flow is better than anything. That’s right. I said it. Better than anything.

But to fully answer your question about Fanny, I need to go back to why Fanny.

About a decade ago, one of my Grade Nine students inspired me. She was slight, quiet, and hidden behind dark hair—but fearless. Actually, no, that’s not quite right. She wasn’t fearless. She was undaunted by her fears. Despite being an intense introvert, she pushed herself to become a skilled debater and public speaker. If you’ve ever had to speak in front of a crowd, you know how terrifying that can be—especially for a 15-year-old.

That quiet strength stayed with me. It made me wonder:

• What if someone like her had to face more than social pressure?

• What if her strength was tested by physical danger?

• What if she was forced into the spotlight—not because she wanted to be there, but because it was the only way to survive?

  
  

Let me weave a bit.

I’m a fan of Lee Child’s Jack Reacher books. Not the TV or movie versions—the Reacher from the novels. What I love about Reacher is his ability to instantly assess a situation, see the patterns, and react with surgical precision. His military background and natural instinct make him almost superhuman.

That got me thinking:

• What if my Grade Nine student had that same level of instinct—but without the military experience?

• How would she learn to read a situation and respond with that kind of superhuman ability?

That’s where martial arts came in. One of the core concepts in martial arts is mushin—or “no mind.” It’s that state where training and instinct take over, where you react without hesitation, without thinking. Athletes call it Flow—that moment when action and awareness merge, and everything just clicks.

Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi (good luck pronouncing that) explored this idea in Flow: The Psychology of Optimal Experience. His work helped me frame Fanny’s journey—how she learns to trust her body and mind to react instinctively under pressure. Her experience of Flow is classic in many ways, but it also differs.

In traditional martial arts, Flow is often honed over years of disciplined practice. Fanny, on the other hand, discovers it in the chaos of real-world danger. She doesn’t just train for it—she falls into it, guided by her survival instinct and raw talent. That makes her experience of Flow feel almost magical—because for her, it is.

5. You've decided to self-publish your series. Why did you decide to self-publish? What has the process been like for you? Even though this is your first book, what are the challenges? Benefits? What do you hope?

When I finished my third round of edits on Fanny Berk Strikes Back, I took a course on traditional publishing. That’s when I got a real wake-up call.

I started looking for an agent and was horrified by the process. Agents receive 20 to 30 queries a day—every single day, no breaks for holidays. That’s around 10,000 queries a year. The odds of getting noticed? Not great. But even if I did land an agent, they’d have to find a publisher willing to buy my book. And if that happened? It could still take years before my book hit the shelves.

And the idea of them buying my book? That made me stop and think. They wouldn’t just buy it—they’d own it.

Wait just a cotton-pickin’ minute.

I’d lose control. The publisher would have the final say over the cover design, title, marketing, and even content. They could edit my book in ways I disagreed with. And if sales didn’t take off in the first few months? Bookstores might pull it, and the publisher might just… move on.

That didn’t sit right with me.

So, I looked into other options and realized that self-publishing meant full control—full control—that’s me.

I’ve taken courses, studied the process, and started putting everything into motion. And oh my God. It reminds me of stepping into the classroom for the first time—completely overwhelmed by everything coming at me. I’ve gained a huge appreciation for what traditional publishers do, because I’ve already lost valuable writing time to marketing time.

The learning curve is vertical.

I’m nervous and excited. Excited and nervous. But what a ride so far. The only downside? If things don’t go well, I can’t blame an evil publisher. It’s all on me.

But honestly? I wouldn’t have it any other way.

6. What is the reading-writing-publishing scene like in Canada these days?

I am probably the wrong person to ask this question, as I don’t know much about it. I’m not sure that the publishing scene in Canada is much different than the one in the US. My concern right now is the growing trend toward AI and ghost written content. Big issue. I will leave it at that.

7. I talk to my authors about aggressively cultivating a sense of belonging, that is, to recognize that they are entitled to call themselves authors and professional writers and to benefit from all that this claim offers them. How are you working to cultivate a sense of belonging to this "exclusive" writers' club?

Although I’ve been deeply involved in writing for a couple of years now, I only recently began to call myself an author. And you know what? I like it. No longer am I just the “recently retired old bald guy”—I’m the “old, bald author.” It feels real, and it feels right.

As for the idea of “belonging” to a larger writers' community, I’m not sure I fully connect with that concept. While I do rely on others for feedback and collaboration, when it comes to the core creative process, I still feel very much alone. And that’s not a bad thing—it’s just how I work. I’m an intense introvert, and while I cherish the connections I have with the people I care about, I tend to keep others at a distance.

I’ve joined a few Facebook writing groups, but tend to delete the notifications without engaging with the posts. I think for me, writing is a solitary pursuit—just me, my computer, and my thoughts. It’s a constant cycle of writing, thinking, editing, and yes, editing some more. Maybe I should join a group dedicated to editing. There's something oddly satisfying about hitting the delete button.

Interview by J.L. Powers