Stories with knobs on – Rebranding a picture book by Moira Butterfield

I don’t write every day. Sometimes I work with other people’s words. Recently I’ve been doing exactly that to a well-known picture book, and I thought you might like to hear about it because it’s a somewhat unusual area for the blog. It’s about things that happen to books long after they’re finished.

If you go to the children’s section of a bookshop, you’ll see that some picture books have been made into ‘brands’ and have their own shelving space. Their content has been taken and reshaped into new ‘formats’ – a word that basically means a book’s shape and size. The content of the picture book might be re-used - with flaps, pop-ups, gatefolds, touch and feel texture, sounds, and all manner of interesting page effects.

This kind of thing has happened a lot over the years with licensed TV characters, but it has recently started to occur with well-known picture books. A top seller may be deemed popular enough to extend into a brand, because parent buyers are familiar with the book. They recognize it, trust it as a good piece of work and are likely to buy others in the series.

That’s where I come in. Authors are busy people and their in-house editors tend to be very busy folk, too, so publishers occasionally ask me to come up with initial ideas for creating a new range. I’ve been asked to do this both for picture books and children’s non-fiction, too.

I start by getting a detailed brief from the publisher. Then I start thinking. 

How do people perceive this book? What does it do, exactly? Does it help to teach concepts, for example, or actions or feelings, perhaps? What can be done with it without stretching it too far and ruining the original spirit?

Then there are ‘price points’ to consider– prices that the public are used to paying for specific types of book.  It’s no use me suggesting anything too expensive. Equally, the publisher and the author won’t want anything that looks cheap and nasty.

There is safety testing to consider. There’s no point in me suggesting some clever-clever idea that is unlikely to pass the stringent safety tests for the age-group. 

I take a long hard look at the illustrations. Can they be taken out of the page to make individual ‘spot art’ – for an add-on poster, for example - or will the publisher need to get more illustrations?

I go shopping to check out what else is being made and sold, for what price, and how successful or otherwise the adapted books are. Some new versions work well, while some betray lack of thought for the end user and the spirit of the original material.

At last I’m ready to come up with a list of format ideas and some general suggestions for making the brand identity strong.

Why did I get asked to do this kind of commission? I once worked for a couple of companies who specialized in creating unusual formats, in the days before apps when the only way to make a picture move was to add some paper-engineering.  I’ve been responsible for creating in-house ranges for well-known supermarkets, who are extremely price-conscious and sensitive to the type of customers they want to attract. 

I’m also a consumer of children’s books and I hate a disappointing format that seems to have no purpose, gets damaged quickly and adds nothing to the experience of reading.

Most importantly I’m an author and editor myself, and I have spent all my professional life working with words and illustrations. That helps me to judge how successfully a new format might satisfy both the reader and the person who came up with the idea in the first place. In the case of a picture book with royalties attached, the author gets the final say about what they might or might not want for their work.

Some may consider that this type of branding devalues the spirit of picture book creation, but I say ‘the more the merrier’ because I strongly believe that very expensive one-off books tend only to reach educated families who read reviews and browse bookshops.  Expanding the range of a picture book, and sometimes bringing the price down, means it gets into the hands of more children. I’ve spent all my professional life believing that and I’m proud of it. 

It also helps the printed picture book market to survive by keeping publishers profitable, and it helps successful authors to make more from their work.

Of course, this all relies on one thing - Someone creating a wonderful book in the first place!

The Power of Picture Books - Karen Saunders

As the subheading of this blog suggests, the authors here are passionate about picture books. And I am too. I honestly believe picture books are amazingly powerful things.

I have a 20 month old son I’ve nicknamed Tornado Toddler. That’s because he’s a whirling tornado of a child, alive with energy and constantly on the move, always exploring and investigating.  But picture books — picture books make him stop. Picture books have the power to make him slow down enough to clamber onto my knee and together, we share a story. It’s one of my favourite things in the world, reading a book with my son. 

Children learn so much from talking about things they see in picture books, and hearing about what’s happening on each page.  My little boy said his first proper word pointing at something he saw in a book. But I think books are more than just learning tools. Picture books have the power to create a whole new world for a reader to step into, because stories are adventures, allowing children to experience all sorts of exciting things. In a book, you can be a pirate, or a cowboy, or a princess. You can go anywhere, or do anything. Picture books have the power to make magic a real, tangible thing, which is why it’s such a wonderful stage to start a child reading. It’s a joy to see the pleasure a child can get from a book, long before they can read themselves, or even talk.

Picture books also help children explore subjects in a safe way. My picture book, Baby Badger’s Wonderful Night, explores a common childhood fear, that of the dark. If I’ve helped one child be less scared of the dark, even just a tiny bit, well, that’s a pretty amazing accomplishment, isn’t it? And there are books to help with so many things. Like what happens when a new brother or sister comes along. Or when someone dies.  Or you start school, or move house, or have to go to hospital. These are all massive things to happen in a person’s life and subjects such as these, many more besides, are addressed in the pages of picture books.

Magic. Adventure. Reassurance. Knowledge. Hours of endless enjoyment. Oh yes. Picture books are very powerful indeed.

Visit me online at www.karensaunders.co.uk

Follow me on Twitter @writingkaren

Do Picture Book Writers need Good Memories? by Malachy Doyle

At the age of 56 or 57 or whatever the heck I am these days, I might not remember where I put that damn cheque book, or car keys, or letter from the tax man. But the first ten years of my life? I remember every square foot of the house I grew up in. I remember how it felt, how it smelt, how it sounded. I remember those days with an incredible vividness, and it’s those memories, those emotions, those days of joy and discovery, that every picture book I ever write draws upon.

I’m lucky. The house I grew up in

is still there. (That's me on the bottom right by the way, aged about 6, by the garden gate.) It’s called Kiltermon, a big old house in the quiet little seaside town of Whitehead, at the mouth of Belfast Lough, where I still go regularly. The house isn’t in the family any more, but early in my writing career I put together a photographic collage of my childhood, on the wall above my desk, to help me connect with my 3/4/5/6 year old self.

After a visit in 1995, the year after I’d taken up this writing lark, I found myself writing a poem that drew on my earliest memory – sitting on my mother’s knee, after my father had left for work, and all six of my older brothers and sisters had headed off to school. Ah, the peace and quiet! Ah, the chance to have my lovely Mammy to myself at last!

It's quiet in the morning.

There's no one else around.

I lie in bed and listen...

Not a single sound.

It's cold out on the landing,

peeping round the doors.

My Mummy's smiling back at me.

My Daddy only snores.

I clamber up his tummy

and I wiggle down the bed.

We're a cosy snuggle sandwich.

I'm the jam and they're the bread...

I sent it to Walker Books, who said they liked it, ‘but it’s a second book’. I sent it to Transworld, who liked the language, the tone and the verse, but found ‘the storyline underdeveloped’. I rewrote it with a lost teddy, but they still weren’t convinced.

I sent it to the agent Celia Catchpole, who said she loved it and wanted to represent me! Result! It went off to a load more publishers then, but without success. (Celia did manage to sell twelve other stories of mine in the next ten months, though, so I was up and running, for sure.)

In late 1996, I went on a week-long Writing for Children course at Ty Newydd. The tutors were Valerie Bloom and Kevin Crossley-Holland. I showed Valerie Quiet in the Morning and she really liked it and suggested a number of amendments, which I gratefully incorporated.

By the following spring, though, Celia was telling me that the market for rhyming picture books wasn’t great, and that we seemed to have come to the end of the line with this particular idea.

In 1999, however, Simon and Schuster got hold of it. They came ever so close to giving me a contract, but again, it didn’t work out.

And so the story disappeared, resurfacing every few years for some spit and polish, but never being seriously considered for another push.

Then, in 2010, I pulled it out, gave it a complete overhaul, and wrote to my agent.

Dear Celia, another one that I think it's a real shame we never managed to sell is Quiet in the Morning… I know this one's had its run over the years, but we've had a fair bit of success, you and I, selling older ones...

The ending at this point was:

It’s cosy in the armchair,

now my teddy’s back again.

The morning rush is over.

My favourite time is when…

It’s quiet in the morning –

with no one else around.

Me and Mummy in the kitchen.

Not another sound.

Celia showed it to an editor from Dial US, who ‘loved the idea of a snuggle sandwich’ and thought it would make a great title. They felt the narrative voice ‘didn’t quite ring true,’ wanted more tension, and wanted the whole thing to come full circle at the end, ‘perhaps with Ted in a snuggle sandwich between baby and mum.’

Never one to ignore good advice, that’s what I did, changing it from first to third person and adding a new punch line in the American editor’s honour. So now the ending was:

It’s quiet in the morning,

now Teddy’s back again.

The morning rush is over.

Annie's favourite time is when...

There’s only her and Momma.

No more fuss and clutter.

Now THEY’RE the snuggle sandwich,

And TED's the peanut butter!

Much better, though I say it myself!

Dial didn’t take it, but Celia's like me - she doesn't give up easily. She made some text suggestions herself - she’s a brilliant editor – and agreed to give it one more go.

Me: It'd be absolutely delightful to sell this at last. I wrote it in 1995!

Celia: And everyone saw it in 1996-7! I still have my offer card with the list. However, I do think this version is much stronger and lots of new editors have arrived since then so I will take it with me to meetings here and do my best to sell it.

Penguin UK nearly took it. ‘A Snuggle Sandwich! That’s what I do with my son!’ said the editor, but couldn’t get it past her boss.

Then, two months later, a student I’d tutored on an Arvon course - I’d gone from poacher to gamekeeper by now - sold a story (one I'd helped her with) to Andersen Press, who'd published my first picture book, The Great Castle of Marshmangle, and later Hungry! Hungry! Hungry! I've a real soft spot for Andersen and for Klaus Flugge, their charismatic top dog - they only publish books they truly believe in; they're unusually speedy in terms of making decisions, drawing up contracts and, all importantly, paying; they're very good at selling foreign rights; they keep books in print for as long as they possibly can...

So, though I hadn't worked with them for some time, I wrote:

Dear Klaus, I hope you're keeping well. Anthea Simmons sent me a copy of her lovely debut Share!, with its fulsome dedication to me. It's a delightful book and I hope it does really well for both you and her. It made me think about you for a picture book idea of mine called Snuggle Sandwich, which I attach… It would be lovely to work with you again.

I sent it, along with a new story, not mentioning of course that they’d already turned down Snuggle Sandwich fourteen years before!

Klaus got back the next day: Dear Malachy, Thanks for sending us your two stories. I love the first and hope we can do something with it (perhaps making baby a bit older??) Kind regards, Klaus

He wanted The Snuggle Sandwich! RESULT! I said yes yes yes, and two days later got the delightful one-liner:

OK, Malachy, let's do another book together (if we can afford you!) K.

Some more very helpful text suggestions from their editor, Rona Selby, and then they asked if I’d any illustrators in mind. I suggested Gwen Millward, as I’d loved The Bog Baby, which she’d done with one of their authors, Jeanne Willis. Gwen said she’d be delighted to take it on, and hasn’t she done a wonderful job!

And so, in a couple of weeks time, The Snuggle Sandwich will be published. It’s been a long long road, with input from many many people, but hopefully it still feels as fresh as a first draft, only better. And as true as a three-year-old Malachy.

A three-year-old Malachy with a long long memory.

Right now it's hard to write

I just had to make the hard decision to put an old, much-loved dog to sleep.  Amber was a sweet-natured, sometimes over-enthusiastic, often muddy Labrador who had a wonderfully happy life that ended peacefully in my arms.  So rather than be sad, I want to celebrate some of her upbeat doggy philosophy  - much of which has crept into my picture books…

1. Wag your tail and greet each new day with joy.

2. Mud is fun, especially when shared.

3. Treat strangers as potential friends.

4. There are many different fragrances and consistencies to manure.

5. Shoes are meant to be slobbered on.

6. The same old familiar walk always has different scents to sniff.

7. Every meal is a celebration.

8. Hair shed is hair shared.

9. Dirty underwear is treasure.

10. An old dog dreams young dreams.

 

 

 

At this moment, I feel drained of creative energy, but I know from experience that it will return. After my husband died I was SURE I wouldn’t be able to write again - but a few months later I felt I had to write – and out of it came Gilbert the Great, a happy-sad picture book about loss and coming to terms with it.

 

So, like any good picture book, this blog has a reassuring ending for anyone finding it hard to be creative right now.  Don’t add to your stress by worrying about it. Get on with your life as best you can – and one day soon, it WILL be back.

Increasing the chances of your picture book story being published. A quick-ish guide to getting and interpreting feedback by Juliet Clare Bell

(Or: You think you’ve finished your manuscript? Now let the wild rumpus start –in memory of legendary wild thing, Maurice Sendak, who died yesterday.)

There’s this funny thing with writing. You’ve got to be pretty bonkers to think that you can write a book that will be picked up by a publisher. Just look at these made-up stats:

And even once you’re published, the odds are against any single picture book manuscript of yours being picked up –other picture book authors I’ve asked often say approximately 20% of their manuscripts end up being published.

So how does anyone ever get from that huge pool of green to that titchy pool of blue? Unfortunately, the very thing that gets you all the way from that green pool to that red pool –deciding you can do it and actually finishing a story- is the same thing that can easily stop you from working your finished (draft of a) story up to a point where it’s going to get published...

You’ve written your story with passion and conviction. Your confidence, tenacity, steely determination, sheer bloody mindedness has kept you going from first thinking you might be able to do this to having actually written a story that you feel is worthy of being read countless times by a parent and child together. You needed bloody mindedness to get to this point (see Malachy’s post on Persistence).

But now you’ve got to keep it in check. You may feel like you’ve done it on your own till now and you don’t need anyone’s help. But you probably aren’t the best judge of how good your story is at this point...

And this is where feedback comes in...

Feedback –what’s it for?
This post already assumes that you’ve read trillions of picture books, practised and practised and practised, joined organisations like SCBWI and are really, really serious about getting your latest manuscript published.

Here are three possible reasons for wanting to get feedback (prior to sending your work to an editor or agent) on your picture book story:

[1] You want someone to tell you how much they love your story.
This is understandable, especially if you’re not published and you feel like you’re fighting for ‘permission’ to be doing what you’re doing. And if it feels good to show your story to family and friends, primed to like what you’ve done because you’ve done it, then that’s fine. It might give you confidence to carry on down a path that’s really tricky. But it’s not feedback. Not really (and if you send it to an editor, never mention the reaction of friends or family to your work. Ever);

[2] To slow yourself down before sending it to the person that really matters.
It’s so easy to send stuff out these days, if you can do it by email and this makes it even more tempting to send things out too early. Ever emailed a manuscript to a publisher slightly sooner than you’d have sent it if you’d had to print it out and take it to the post office first? (Me too...) Sending your manuscript to someone else first really helps satisfy the feeling of ‘getting something out there’ without it actually mattering too much. It’s really good cooling off time –and you actually get feedback from it;

[3] Because you want it to be the very best story it can be.
Accepting that other people might be more objective about your recently finished manuscript than you and that they might see ways of improving it, is bound to improve your chances of writing the best picture book you possibly can and having it picked up by an editor.

If you’re serious about your story, after all that hard work put into your manuscript don’t have an editor’s feedback as your first feedback. It’ll almost certainly be a form rejection or worse still, the feedback of silence...

So...

Prepare yourself for feedback. Grow an extra skin and stop thinking of your story as your ‘baby’...

Writing your story can be an intense experience. Some people refer to their manuscript as their baby. For all sorts of reasons, I think this is an unhelpful thing to do and reduces your likelihood of benefiting from feedback.

In my previous life working in research at a university, I felt so sick at the thought of people reading drafts of papers I was writing that it often stopped me finishing them. I was so nervous of other people’s feedback and I could never stop feeling personal about what I’d written. It was a real waste –for the study I was working on and for me. I realised when I started out trying to write children’s books that I couldn’t do that again. Either I was going to learn to accept and make use of constructive criticism or I wasn’t going to get published, in which case, I wasn’t going to start writing.

It’s not easy to feel dispassionate about your work. But it certainly helps when getting feedback. Although we might like to think that everything we write is brilliant and already ready to go to an editor immediately, we are probably wrong. This makes it particularly hard to get feedback when you’re just starting out. Because what many new writers want is to be praised for what they’ve done –and they have achieved something important: finishing a story. If you’re not ready for real feedback, then put the manuscript away for a while until you can view it less personally. Then get it out again. Can you treat it as if it has been written by someone else? Do you want it to be the best it possibly can be and can you see that others might see things in it (or missing from it) that you may have overlooked? Will you manage not to be crushed by any suggestion of how it might be improved?

If you’re still too nervous to show anyone your work, don’t feel tempted to send it to an editor (at least, don’t act on that temptation).

Picture book feedback

Before deciding who to get feedback from, do consider the following:

[1] Ask any picture book editor: most picture book manuscripts that land on an editor’s desk are too long. Make sure the person you show your manuscript to is familiar with picture book length and knows that with a picture book manuscript every word has to earn its place. Picture book readers but not writers will probably not realise how few words there are in a well-crafted picture book. I still remember being shocked when I started out writing and typed up Julia Donaldson stories that seemed to have plenty of plot but were only 450 words... and then promptly started reducing my 1800 word-story down by three quarters...

[2] Many writers (as opposed to writer-illustrators) trying to write picture books don’t allow the pictures to do enough of the work in telling the story. Many readers of well-written picture books won’t realise that they’re reading half the story from the pictures. So a picture book critiquer needs to appreciate the importance of leaving enough room for the illustrations to do some of the work, and also the role of illustration notes –when to use them and when to leave them out.

The nature of picture books means that when you’re asking for feedback, you’re asking your critique to do two things: critique your story whilst at the same time imagining pictures that you’ve not provided for them.

So who should you get feedback from?

Family, friends and children?
Think carefully why you’re asking them. Their response is not likely to reflect how publishable your story is and they are very, very biased. They may want to please you, they may feel awkward about being critical or...

...they may just want a biscuit.

And unlike older fiction, they can’t read it as if it were published, as the pictures aren’t there yet. If you’re showing it to (your) children, remember, the ones for whom it’s actually written (pre-readers) won’t be able to read it for themselves, and older children who can read it might be more attracted to the stories that are actually too old for the intended age group. From my experience, they also prefer ones that don’t require any illustration notes...
Probably not ideal.

Critique groups with other writers?
This is where many children’s writers get feedback from. The SCBWI is great for providing feedback opportunities from other writers –both in face-to-face groups/events and online. I am a huge fan of the SCBWI (without which I very much doubt I’d be published) and I’d heartily recommend it to any children’s writer. There are other online picture book critique groups or opportunities to get feedback from another writer (for example 12 by 12 in ’12). Joining a critique group or meeting can be very nerve-wracking at first but it does get easier. (For information on setting up and running a critique group, click here.)

I know that everything I’ve written (both before I was published and since) has been improved –and sometimes transformed- by feedback from my fantastic critique partners.

Things worth considering: do you want to exchange manuscripts with children’s writers in general or just other picture book writers? It’s important that non-picture book writers know the constraints of the picture book but it can be good getting feedback from (and giving feedback to) other children’s writers, too. What’s important is what feedback they give and how well they give it. My experience of critique groups (I’m currently in three) has mostly been extremely positive, although occasionally I’ve had poor feedback (see my Banana Peelin’ story). And with practise I’ve become much better at receiving feedback (as well as giving it).

With practise, you will become tough and able to embrace feedback.

Possible disadvantages:
It can be very time-consuming (I probably critique over ten manuscripts per month –but then I get a lot of people critiquing mine back in return);
It can take a while to find the right critique group for you and for your own group to settle into something really mutually beneficial;
The quality of critiquing can be variable (so you need to learn how to make the most of different kinds of feedback from different people; but over time you change things until you’re happy with the group/s you’re in)
If you’re all unpublished, it’s possible that you’re all perpetuating the same errors in each other’s work that’s preventing you all from getting published;
People may have their own agendas:

However, in my experience (and I've experienced different critique groups), this is rarely the case.

Paid for critiques?
Given how the book world has changed, many people who formerly worked in publishing houses or agencies now work as literary consultants, critiquing manuscripts (and some published authors and freelance writers do, too). If you’ve polished and polished your manuscript as much as you can -and had good feedback from fellow writers- and it’s still being rejected by publishers, then it may well be worthwhile paying for a critique.

Make sure you check out the freelancer first –do they know about picture books in particular? Do you like what they’ve written? Have they worked in a publishing house you know of? Do you know anyone else who’s used them and been happy with the service?

Possible disadvantages: it can be expensive;
Some freelancers will be better than others and it’s not always easy to know who to go with.
If you're in a good critique group, you may get a very similar critique free of charge.
But again, some freelance critiquers are excellent.

How to make the most of the feedback you’re given

[1] Try not to be defensive, and listen really, really carefully. For face-to-face critique groups, the Ursula LeGuin method means you can concentrate on listening to what others are saying rather than trying to defend yourself or your writing. It’s the same with a face-to-face editor meeting at a conference -don’t waste precious time defending your work when you’re there to hear how it might be improved.

The Ursula LeGuin method of running critique sessions (where the writer does not speak, but listens to everyone's feedback in turn) sounds scarier than it is. Honest.


[2] Ask. If you’re unsure about written feedback you’ve received, a fellow writer whose opinion you trust may be more objective in interpreting it (especially in the case of a personalised rejection from an editor). It’s often easier to see the negative side of feedback and overlook the positive. Recently, for example, I received some feedback from an editor. She said she really liked the title but then listed a number (quite a number) of things that didn’t work for her. I assumed that it was a straight rejection. Then she put a ‘however’... and proceeded to say how she really liked the character and that she’d be keen to see it again when I’d sorted out the things she didn’t think worked. It still felt negative but after showing it to a few people, I cut and pasted it and put all the positive things she said at the top and the negative things at the bottom and suddenly it seemed like much more positive feedback and something I could work through to provide her with a manuscript that she might really like.

[3] Is there consistency in your feedback from different people? You might want to dismiss parts of what people say but if a number of people are highlighting the same issues with your manuscript (or if different people pick up the same things on different manuscripts of yours), those issues probably need to be addressed.

[4] Learn to spot what’s important from the feedback
Some people will make suggestions as to how you can change your story. It may feel that they’re trying to rewrite it for you. This might be helpful to you or it might not, but it’s certainly very helpful to think about why they’re suggesting the change. Recently, an editor tentatively suggested I relocate my story to another part of the world. At first I thought I would and then realised why she was suggesting it –there was a problem with the story’s logic. Changing location would have sorted out that problem, but it would have changed other things in a way I wasn’t sure about. Now I’ve realised her thinking behind it, I can work out another way to sort out the story’s logic that fits with how I see my character.

[5] Take away different things from different people –after being in critique groups for years now, I know who’s really good at cutting my word count, or over-cutting, so I can compromise and take out half the words he’s suggesting (a word-slasher who isn’t personally attached to your favourite phrases that you’ve agonised over is invaluable to a picture book writer). I know who is good at spotting problems with structure; who is good at rhythm or tiny word changes (which can make such a difference in a picture book). You don’t have to act on all your feedback. Cherry pick the best and try and make the suggestions feel like your own.

[6] Don’t immediately start revising on the basis of feedback. Your initial reaction may be negative for a number of reasons –your pride might be slightly hurt; you might not like the way the feedback was presented; you might still be feeling quite defensive about your manuscript. Conversely, you might, like I often do, feel impatient to get going on a revision and initially agree with the suggestions made, especially if they come from someone you’re eager to please (like an editor or an agent). But unless you’ve given them a chance to settle, these changes may never feel like your own. Once you’ve read/had the feedback, sit on it for a while –days at least, possibly weeks, before making changes. If those suggested changes still don’t feel like your own, think carefully about whether that’s going to work. And never delete anything –you may change your mind.

It never did quite work for me, changing my little sister into a hamster (as I was asked to do by an editor). But I tried... (and didn't delete the original).

As with writing, with practise you will get better at receiving feedback. Probably better to practise with people who aren't editors or agents so when you're in a situation with an editor or agent (at a conference one-to-one, or when they're responding to your work) you can make the very best of it. You'll almost certainly have a better manuscript to discuss with them, too.

The End.

(Hmmn, “The ending was particularly satisfactory...” –a genuine quote from my first ever picture book rejection. Now what exactly did she mean by that...?)

Juliet Clare Bell writes children’s books (Don’t Panic, Annika! illustrated by Jennifer E. Morris, Piccadilly Press, UK –other publishers overseas; Pirate Picnic, an early reader with Franklin Watts, August, 2012; The Kite Princess, illustrated by Laura-Kate Chapman, Barefoot Books, September, 2012) and amongst other things, runs critique events and groups for the British Isles SCBWI Chapter.

Creating loveable characters for a picture book -Linda Strachan

Hamish McHaggis

When I was first approached to write the Hamish McHaggis books I was just asked to write some stories about a haggis.


 A mythical creature is the Haggis!

 
Some would have you believe the haggis is a three-legged creature with two long legs and one short leg, that runs around the Scottish highlands.



Others may be familiar with the dish that is served on ‘Burns night’ on 25th January, to celebrate the great Scottish bard Robert Burns, accompanied by toasts, assorted speeches, and even the odd glass of whisky!



(Although we try not to mention eating haggis in the presence of our Hamish McHaggis.  He might get a little upset!)


So where would I start? Creating a character children will love is a fairly daunting remit, but we all know that what makes a great picture book is not only the wonderful mixture of words and images but also characters that endear themselves to our young readers.

It was important to have Hamish looking right but I wasn’t sure how I wanted him to look.   In this instance I was lucky enough to be able to work closely with my illustrator
(Sally J.Collins) from the very start, so we were able to bounce ideas around.

We discussed what a Haggis might look like.

 What you see if you go to buy a haggis in a shop is not particularly cuddly, it’s basically a mottled-brown ball.
But it occurred to me that if you buy a chicken in a supermarket it looks nothing like a hen in a farmyard, so a haggis would look quite different, too.
 

First sketches  © Sally J. Collins

I suggested to Sally that she might think about what kind of animal a haggis might be derived from.

She came back with wonderful drawings of cartoon-like cows and sheep, which were great fun but none of them seemed quite right. (Sally has kindly allowed me to show you these first sketches.)
 

Rory McHaggis © Sally J. Collins

 We settled on a more bear-like creature, after a couple of variations.
One was too babyish and another was a bit too old and had a long beard - he eventually became Hamish’s grandad Rory McHaggis.


Finally, we found our Hamish.

While Sally was working on Hamish had I started to think about characteristics or habits he might have. It would be fun to have the characters going on picnics, so Hamish has a picnic basket which he often worries about- where it is, what he can put in it for their picnic and if he will he get peckish on their trips away.

He also has a special vehicle called a Whirry Bang, designed by Hamish himself which can be a little unreliable at times.



Hamish needed a place to live and so he got a little grass and heather-covered house called a Hoggle.

 I thought Hamish should live in a secret hideaway in the Highlands and Coorie Doon (which, in Scots, means to 'snuggle down and be cosy') seemed like a good place.

Jeannie and Angus

 Hamish needed some woodland friends and I wanted to choose some that were less common creatures such as a pine marten (Angus) an osprey (Jeannie). As Hamish uses lots of Scots words and phrases an English hedgehog (Rupert) seemed like a good idea as someone who needs the odd word translated.

Rupert

Hamish also meets up with other friends and relatives during the series such as his grandad Rory (above)who lives in Glamis castle, the international clan members - McHaggises from all over the world who come to visit for the Clan Gathering.
There’s also Jeannie’s brother, Joe, on the isle of Skye, Shona the red squirrel who lives in the grounds of the royal castle at Balmoral and Nessie (the Loch Ness Monster).

Sally was not keen to draw clothes on the animals so we decided they would have accessories - Hamish has his hat, and Angus has a red cap which he wears backwards, Jeannie has pink beads and Rupert has a bow-tie and a pair of glasses.

There are now ten books in the series and the latest Hamish McHaggis and the Great Glasgow Treasure Hunt was launched last weekend at the Kelvingrove and Riverside Museums in Glasgow.

This book has a new character, Maggie the Glasgow fox, who has a rather capacious handbag!



 Hamish has many fans of all ages and he often gets cuddles when he surprises them with a visit.

You can find out more about how Sally and I work together on a previous blog growing wings

There are also  Free downloadable resources for teachers on Hamish McHaggis books
 




Linda Strachan is the award winning author of over 60 books including Writing For Children   pub A. & C. Black. 
Website  www.lindastrachan.com
B;og  Bookwords

Any excuse for a book tour, by Abie Longstaff

I recently visited my parents in Hong Kong – my childhood home. I go back as often as I can (not that often on an author’s income!) and it’s so great to be immersed back into the sights, smells and sounds of my youth; just visiting the park we used to play in or the beaches we used to build sandcastles on is so evocative and really reminds me of bossing my 5 sisters around and organising all kinds of games and adventures. 

One of my sisters still lives there and now runs a school. She asked me to come in and read my books and I suddenly thought: why not ask around book shops too? This was my first ‘book tour’ and, having no idea how to organise it, I contacted my publisher. The Hong Kong section were fantastic and my contact there managed to organise events at three different book shops.

Off I went, with hand luggage of a large doll, a baby’s hairbrush, and a selection of pirate clothes and coins. I was a bit nervous of speaking to a new market, especially as while I was there the visits started to snowball – suddenly one of my book readings had turned from a simple read aloud session into a yummy mummy and daughter pamper day, with a local salon sponsoring hair styling and nail painting while I read The Fairytale Hairdresser. Then Timeout Hong Kong somehow got wind of the ‘book tour’ and asked me to write an article about my writing process and my visit to Hong Kong.

As it turned out I had no reason to be nervous as of course (massive cliché coming up…) children are children. They loved hearing the stories and spotting the fairy tale characters in the illustrations. They queued up to brush Rapunzel’s hair and touch the pirate coins and pored over my sketchbooks and notes and at one of the visits I signed 200 books until my signature started to go a little too wiggly.

For me there was something very special about reading the stories in my childhood home. Many of the stories I told my younger sisters have become ideas for my picture books and it was really satisfying (and quite emotional) to bring things full circle.

So my conclusion – if you don’t ask, you don’t get. Next time I travel anywhere I am definitely going to approach local book shops in advance.

 
You never know what might happen!

Let's Get Physical by Kath Jewitt

Our guest blogger this month is Kath Jewitt, who has a busy career in children's books as an editor, writer and project manager. She works particularly on books with add-ons such as flaps and moving parts.


I want to make something clear before I start. I am not a technophobe, or whatever the new-fangled word is for not getting on well with technology. I am most definitely an enthusiastic purchaser of e-books and apps for my kids (ok – so I bought Angry Birds for myself). It's just that when it comes to sharing bedtime stories, I get a little picky.

I want a book – and it's not just the content I am talking about here, though of course that is somewhat crucial. It's the 'physical object', the actual 'bookiness' of the book that I am referring to – the smooth paper or card, the black words on a white page, the gradations of colour and tone in different styles of artwork, the folds, the flaps, the die-cuts, the matt laminate (a personal favourite) ... I’m sure you get the point.

I don't know if it's something to do with the fact my husband I make pop-up books for a living that I have such an overeager appreciation of the physical properties of books (I do so love a well-executed fold), but I think it's more than that. There's something about the feel of a book in your hands, its simple physical presence that makes a book so much more intimate a companion than a file on an e-reader – particularly when it comes to snuggling up in bed or on the sofa with a small child.

The word 'interactive' (defined by the Oxford Dictionary online as ‘two people or things influencing each other’) seems to have been annexed by the digital world these days, but I can't think of a more interactive activity than a child and companion sharing a brilliant book together. Reading a book is not only about the story and the images, though they are obviously at the very heart of the experience. It's also about touching, and turning, and pointing, and laughing, and turning back, and flicking forward, maybe lifting a few flaps ... it's about developing key coordination skills, not to mention a relationship with the book and your reading companion.



‘Relationship’ may sound pretentious, I know, but I'm not sure how else to describe the rapport a child can develop with a favourite book. I've lost count of the number of times I've tried to throw out a tatty old copy I thought my children had grown out of, only for them to throw a wobbler, as if I am threatening to throw out their best friend. And I’m pretty sure it is not just me who feels this way. The feeling is embodied in a conversation I had with a friend not long ago. She was bemoaning the fact that she had loaned a favourite book to an acquaintance and that said person had ... horror of horrors ... offered to give her a brand new copy to replace the by now dog-eared original. "It just wouldn't be the same – it wouldn't be MY book!" she wailed. I just can't imagine feeling that way about a pdf ...

Twenty-five Years of Winnie Magic, by Pippa Goodhart

What is the magic that makes Winnie The Witch work so well?

The fist, eponymous, Winnie The Witch picture book came out twenty-five years ago this year, and on Friday the 13th of April and on Friday 13th of July Winnie will be celebrating her quarter century with birthday parties. (What? Didn’t you know that witches have birthdays every time there’s a Friday 13th?).

Over that quarter century, twelve picture books and eleven storybooks about Winnie and her cat Wilbur have been published, and more are in production. Winnie’s stories have be published in twenty-seven different languages, and sold over five million books.

For a picture book to grow into such a phenomenal, and on-going, success is the stuff of dreams. How did it happen?

Ron Heapy is the brilliant OUP editor who created the Winnie we know and love by bringing Valerie aThomas’s story and Korky Paul’s illustrative skills together.

Ron had already signed contracts to publish the Winnie The Witch story text, aiming it towards a series of early reader titles, but the illustration samples that followed had shown an uninspiring black shed in a garden. So Ron had sat on the story for a couple of years, unsure what to do with it next.

At that point, in walked Korky Paul, bringing some stories of his own to discuss with Ron. Ron described as ‘a bit like falling in love’, the moment when, at their end of their discussion, as Korky was heading for the door, Ron suddenly felt an impulse to do something to make sure that Korky would come back, and for there to be the chance for a working relationship to develop. So he handed Korky the story of Winnie The Witch, telling him that it was to be a book of desk diary size, and asking him to see what he could do with it.

Back came Korky with a wonderful picture of Winnie’s witchy mansion of a house, “full of stuff”. It was Winnie's house, even more than Winnie herself, which sold Korky to Ron as the right illustrator for her story. All of which process just goes to prove the point made in Malachy’s last post about how a story sometimes needs to wait very patiently until just the right illustrator is there to work with it. I asked Korky where his image of Winnie came from, and he says that he has no idea. ‘I sat and doodled a few witch type characters and she came almost immediately.’ He calls the process, ‘Purely instinctive. The bent hat was because I reached the edge of the paper while doodling, and just squashed the hat to fit it in’!

Was Winnie an instant success? Ron tells me that he had contracted to do a print run of 3,000 copies. Then he went to the Bologna Book Fair where Winnie artwork went up on a modest little stall. And straight away, Winnie’s magic began to work, halting delegates as they passed, so that publishers from Germany and America and more placed orders to bump that initial print run up to 16,000 by the end of the Fair.

Winnie The Witch was published in 1987. It won the Federation of Children’s Book Groups’ Award, chosen by children, the following year. Everybody wanted more stories about her. But that first book was a hard act to follow. Hence the long pause before a second story – Winnie In Winter - was finally published in 1996. Many more have followed since then. But I still think that very first story is the best of them. Why is it so good? I think that’s partly down to: 

• The story being brilliantly simple, following a strong logic that twists at the end to surprise and satisfy with a really strong pay-off that we don't see coming (one of the hardest things to achieve in any story).
• The characters, and their relationship together, being appealing and sympathetic.
• The slapstick and ‘yuck’ humour being such fun, and so clearly at a fictional remove that there’s no worry to any of it.
• There being so much more to find of subsequent viewings of those wonderful pictures.
• The story being about the look of things, and therefore perfectly suited to picture book treatment.
• The appeal of the idea of being able to do magic. I love those great swishes of magic that appear as splashes of colour. I wish I could splatter magic about like that! The inspiration for the magic to look that way apparently came from watching the Red Arrows!

I think that Winnie The Witch is one of the best picture books ever. Can you suggest other ‘perfect’ picture books? Or give other reasons for Winnie's success?

NB To read more about how Korky does his illustrations, do read the fascinating article that you can find on his website

Mysterious Number Three by Paeony Lewis

What is it about the number three in storytelling? There are traditional tales such as The Three Little Pigs, Three Billy Goats Gruff, Goldilocks and the Three Bears. Then there are the lesser-known tales: The Three Sillies, The Devil with the Three Golden Hairs, The Three Snake Leaves, and so many more.

Even if three isn’t in the title, three still sneaks into countless fairy stories. Rumpelstiltskin gives the miller’s daughter three spinning wishes and she has three guesses at his name. Cinderella goes to three balls and there are three sisters. Jack steals three treasures from the giant at the top of the beanstalk.

How about contemporary picture books? That number three sneaks in again. There are three owls in Martin Waddell’s classic Owl Babies. Whilst in the deep dark wood a little mouse meets three animals (a fox, owl and snake) in Julia Donaldson’s The Gruffalo. And I've just realised I have three young bunnies in Hurry Up, Birthday.

Even if there aren’t three characters, then things happen three times. Winnie the Witch waves her wand again, and again and again . Helen Cooper’s Bear Under the Stairs is fed one day with bananas, bacon and bread. Another day it’s hazelnuts haddock and honey. And the door is always shut with a wham, bang and thump.

From No More Biscuits

So why three? Why, in writing, is it called The Rule of Three or Magic Three? Perhaps because three times is a pattern. Two can be a coincidence, but three is something more. It’s more satisfying. It’s the beginning, middle and end. It flows and has rhythm.

If a fairy casts one spell and it doesn’t succeed, then you’re setting up tension. If she casts the spell again and it succeeds, then it feels a bit of an anti-climax. But if she fails a second time, things are getting tenser. Will she succeed on the third attempt? We hold our breath… Yes! Ah ha, but what if she fails again, surely the tension will rise further? Maybe, or will it start to get boring?

Mind you, sometimes I find the rule of three can be too predictable, especially in films. You just know the hero will try once, twice and then succeed on the third attempt. Yawn. However, perhaps this predictability was helpful when stories were told around the fire, hundreds of years ago. You need a clear story structure to follow a story told orally, and it also helps you to remember it for another night. This might be why three is also popular with stand-up comedians: Three men went into a bar; an Englishman, a Scotsman and an Irishman…

So in storytelling, three can provide a satisfying pattern. Whether it’s the three Norns in Norse mythology; the three Anglo-Saxon monsters battled by Beowulf; or the Greek Three Fates, Graces or Furies. However, it doesn’t stop there.

In art there’s a rule of thirds. Pythagoras called three the perfect number. We also have three primary colours (red, blue and yellow). In Christianity there is the Trinity of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost. On the third day Jesus rose from the dead. In Hinduism you have the Trinity: Brahma, Vishnu, Shiva. Three is our past, present and future. Birth, life and death. Veni, vidi, vici. Symbolic three is everywhere.

In our writing, is it lucky three? Other numbers are endowed with symbolism, although three does appear to be particularly popular in Western writing. So should we use it in our picture books? Why not, if it works? We probably do it subconsciously. But if we use it too much, will the magic of three wane?

1 2 3 1 2 3 1 2 3

Paeony Lewis is a children's author.
http://www.paeonylewis.com/

Persistence with a capital P, by Malachy Doyle

Three things you need to be a successful(ish) picture book writer:

1. Talent
2. Persistence
3. Luck

Talent: You've either got it or you ain't. Assuming you have it as a starting point, you can then learn, you can try things out, you can be inspired... And the harder you work, the better you get.

Luck: Stumbling upon a stupendous and original idea. Landing it on the right desk at the right time.

But it's number two, Persistence, that I want to riff on today.

Persistence means writing and rewriting, rewriting, rewriting, until the story finds its form, until it REALLY TRULY WORKS. I still have the evidence in my files to show that I printed out no less than one hundred and eighty seven different versions of my first picture book story, Owen and the Mountain, before I came up with the version that nailed it, and that Bloomsbury (the 24th publisher to see the story, but don't tell them that!) took on.

Persistence means believing in a story if it's really good, despite your friends, or your agent, or any number of publishers saying it doesn't quite work. If I think something's good enough, but haven't managed to sell it, I bottom drawer it. Then every few months (or years) I pull it back out, give it a good shake, and if I still like it enough I think about whether it's worth having another go at finding it a home. I keep an eye and an ear out for new publishers, new editors, new trends, new opportunities, and if I think I have a story that seems to fit, I go for it.

And so, of my five picture books due to be published in 2012, the average length of time since I originally wrote them is TEN YEARS.

February: Collywobble (Pont), written 2010
April (?): Cillian and the Seal (An Gum - Irish language only), written 2003
May: Little Chick and the Secret of Sleep (QED), written 1998
June: The Snuggle Sandwich (Andersen), written 1995
September: Too Noisy! (Walker), written 2005.

All but the first, Collywobble, were kicking around for ages until they found their true form and a publisher who believed in them. The Snuggle Sandwich was one of the very first stories I wrote - recently I did a trawl of my back catalogue and said to my agent 'Of all the stories I've written that we never managed to sell, this is my favourite.' So I injected a bit of freshness into it, including a new punchline and title, and she went out and sold it.



A friend of mine, Liz Weir, can beat even that seventeen year wait. Liz, one of Ireland's very best storytellers, has a picture book coming out this year that she originally wrote all the way back in 1985!



So never say die, say I. Believe in yourself, believe in your stories. And if they're good enough, and you're persistent enough and flexible enough, they'll see the light of day. They really will.

Anyone else got any good examples of persistence paying off?

And, by the way, if anybody wants to find out more about how to become a top-notch picture book writer (or/and illustrator), you could do a lot worse than to come on the week-long Arvon course Polly Dunbar and I are tutoring at Totleigh Barton in Devon in June. Our guest reader is ex-Children's Laureate Anthony Browne. It's going to be good!

Bee-rocracies & Hierarchies - Alison Boyle

What is it like to be a bee? 

Readers of picturebooks and readers of this blog, I'm going to let you in to some of my thoughts about story themes, some of which involve bees.

A big theme with several branches can provoke responses from readers, who bring an array of experiences to the interpretation of a story. Theodor Seuss Geisel (alias Dr Seuss) dealt with gigantic themes in his books, including nuclear war, capitalism and the environment.

As any storyteller will tell you - including adults who are required to make up bedtime epics starring the children sitting next to them – it is vital to think yourself into the main character or characters.

When creating How Bees Be I asked myself:

Q: What does it feel like under the furry skin of a young bee that could also say something about the human condition? 
 

The big theme of How Bees Be (published by Milet, Chicago):
What happens when a character rebels against the structures of its world?

 

Looked at another way:

Q: What is it about the way a young bee looks at the world that's relevant to the way a child sees their life?

What's different?

And if children aren't reading themselves, what is there for older readers now, and for children if they think about this story in the future?

Illustrations carry meanings where the word limit doesn't allow for detailed descriptions (Laura Hambleton did the lovely bee pics). More fundamentally, creators – whether illustrators or writers or aural storytellers – will usually have a theme or two in mind at the story's inception.

Initially though, I wanted to write a book with a bee as its main character. One teacher considered How Bees Be

    "Perfect for a lesson I was doing with 4/5 year old children.
    It explores the different things that bees do in very
    imaginative and creative ways! I am glad I brought it,
    it is a story I will share again and again." Ms AJ Herrod (Suffolk).

This is one response that probably reflects the time I spent researching bees. But when I came to writing the story I ditched the facts that couldn't be used as a vehicle to express something about people.

Going back to that big theme, obviously discipline and structure are at the heart of bee communities and I wanted to draw parallels between the hive and the social, political and domestic rules that govern us.

In How Bees Be there is a Churchillian war cabinet scene that alludes to the careful planning needed – here by the bee-rocracy - to assure the efficient collection and processing of honey to keep society going. In a factory scene, mechanisation enables the noble workers to process the honey, and a picture indent emphasises the idea of everyone pulling together, including Royalty.

At one level the book is about a child's curiosity manifested in the character of Little Bee. Though small, the protagonist has an enormous appetite for pushing herself on. She already thinks of herself as grown-up, and has tantrums that are more akin to the teenage variety than toddler. But I wanted to go beyond Little Bee leaving the familiar zone of her bee bedroom to the world outside the hive.

On the first page Little Bee exercises her right to 'being a grown-up bee' by staying in bed. After rebelling against her older Biker Sis and a squadron of honeybees she explores the labyrinthine corridors of the hive, where she meets the Queen Bee.

The Queen leads a tour to demonstrate how grown-up bees in the honey factory keep the community fed. Little Bee displays that child-like quality of asking searching questions: 'Time for you to start work?' she asks at one point. To which the Queen replies: 'I don't see why I should. I'm a grown-up bee now.' 

Royalist sympathies or not?

On the final pages the main character achieves her desire, and there is intentional irony in her taking a step away from the freedom of childhood and accepting the mantle of responsibility. 

Of course it's a mixed bag: children do have less freedom in some ways, and adults often lose the freedom to stay in bed. On the other hand, being a grown-up in the bee world involves dancing, so it isn't necessarily a bad lot.

The big theme of Wishing Bird (published by Puffin):
How can friends
provide reassurance
if self-esteem dips?

  

The big theme of The Dance of the Eagle and the Fish (published by Milet):
Is love powerful enough to transcend boundaries?
(including being inside the bodies of a bird and a fish)

Picturebooks, like all stories, reflect the places where readers and listeners join them. They can also plant the seeds of new ideas that are responded to, sometimes unconsciously, many years in the future when the book itself might have been lost, handed on, or is too tatty to read.

If you have a few spare minutes on your hands, pick up a picturebook, any picturebook. Look inside and think about its themes. You are allowed to read things into the story – that's part of what it is to be a reader (and maybe a bee, but I don't think we will ever know).

Look inside How Bees Be