Don't Give Up! by Jane Clarke

I reckon almost all of us who eventually go on to be published have had a moment when we’ve felt like giving up.  I certainly have.

For me it was after a couple of years of rejections when an editor who liked a story and hung onto it for 8 months finally got back to me with a ‘no’.  It was a very nice ‘no’ in a letter that invited me to send more stories - but I’d been so hopeful and my hopes were dashed. I’m sure the editor thought the letter would encourage me, but I was totally demotivated. So near and yet so far! The writing equivalent of missing out on a medal (it didn't have to be Gold) in the only Olympics I was ever likely to make the team. I felt I was disappointing my family (my perception, not theirs), it was becoming embarrassing to tell my friends I’d been turned down yet again, and I was dejected because a lot of 'me' was in the rejected stories, even if they did feature talking animals. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be, maybe I should just pack it in and clean the house.

I tried not writing for a while, but I missed the excuse for not doing housework – and most of all I missed those wonderful moments when you are lost in a world of your creation – moments that are not dependent on publication. So that’s why I carried on writing - and as I wrote, my voice and tone developed. I went on more courses, gritted my teeth and continued to send things out.  Not too long after I’d seriously considered throwing in the towel, I was taken on by an agent and a couple of publishers. My fourteenth picture book is out this month.

I'm writing this from the privileged position of being published, but I clearly remember how I felt then, and it wasn't good. So lots of sympathy if you have reached a point where you’re thinking of giving up. You're not alone as reactions to the 6 August blog post by the Steve Laube Agency have shown http://stevelaube.com/when-the-outlook-is-bleak/

If you enjoy what you do, keep going!   If you’ve been there - please share – and if you pushed through it, let us know why - or how. In the meantime, I’m off to practice for my hula–hoop fitness class. I've considered giving up as I'm by far the worst in the group. But it’s much more fun than cleaning the house... 

Children's Books and the Olympic Ceremony - Joyce Dunbar (Guest Blogger)

To what two phenomena could the following words equally apply? Irreverent, idiosyncratic, mad, fantastical, unpredictable, bonkers, bizarre, beautiful, inventive, touching, chaotic, singular, funny, emotional, inspirational, anarchic, subversive .

And in what same two phenomena might you hope to catch a glimpse of an anthropomorphic Mole and Rat?





Olympic Park (Wikimedia Commons: Alexander Kachkaev)

The first, of course, is the Olympic Opening Ceremony. In the published responses, at home and abroad, most of these words were used.

The second is what we find in the best of children’s books - especially in that most visual form - the picture book. Only in stages of amazement did I recognize a shared sensibility and common intent.

But then, so did the whole wide world.

The run up to the Olympics was not promising: rain and more rain; big chain monopolies; rows about security; dubious sponsorship, tickets reserved for bigwigs; manned helicopters mounted on tower blocks; sausages arrested for forming into rings. I wasn’t looking forward to it at all. I don’t have the sport bit of brain. Somebody wins, most lose. I don’t know who they are so I can’t see how it matters. But it does matter, incredibly, to a great many people and I like watching them have a good time.



England's 'green and pleasant land' (Wikimedia Commons: Nick Webb)

So I sat down at the end of a dull day to watch the ceremony. I was on my own. What did that matter either? I expected the usual variety show turnout, a bit of tub thumping and marching, a fading nation’s last stand, bored disappointment and an early night. It didn’t turn out like that. The first few scenes were the very antithesis. Mythical England, maypole and morris dancing, cricket on the green, a bucolic blend of Tellytubby land and Betjeman’s middle England.





Industrial Age (Wikimedia Commons: Barney Moss)

But then, oh my goodness, from the moment that Kenneth Branagh, dressed as Isambard Kingdom Brunel, uttering the words of Caliban, given to us by Shakespeare, (a puzzle inside a riddle inside a mystery?) that the ‘isles are full of music, sounds and sweet airs that give delight and hurt not’, things took off with eye widening, heart thumping speed. Images rose out of seeming nowhere, disappeared and were replaced. Those towering chimneys, complete with smoke! Evelyn Glennie, a white witch with swishing hair and flowing robes (Beware, beware, the flashing eyes and floating hair), drumming her heart out, clicking her sticks; the river of molten steel rising up to be forged into the Olympic rings, the Queen jumping out of a helicopter only to reappear a moment later with her customary air of disapproval ....and on an on, one scene unfolding after another, each with a different mood - solemn, hilarious, touching, - totally surprising and utterly heartwarming. This magnificent panorama magically rolled out before us – the fine balance of chaos and technical wizardry – culminating in midnight birds on bicycles and copper petals rising sleekly upwards to form a flaming chrysanthemum of a cauldron.



Olympic Cauldron (Wikimedia Commons: Thomas Heatherwick)

There was sentiment, but no syrup. The NHS scene was idealised of course, but appealed to the childhood sense in all of us, the fear of nightmares, the longing to be tucked up safely in our own bed with our own light and our own nurse to guide us through night terrors. Deaf children singing a song they couldn’t hear, sick children bouncing and dancing on gigantic beds, a giant baby, so many children.

Amid this spectacle, Kenneth Branagh’s eyes glistened with wonder – which looked nothing to do with acting. I think this must have made more new patriots in an evening and more admirers abroad than anything we could have hoped for. And the medals were all to come.

For me, cracking open a bottle of fizz in sheer disbelief and excitement, tears rolling down my cheeks at the dance for the dead of 7/7 with that sweet rendering of Abide With Me, I had the most unfamiliar sense of belonging. This was the country into which I was born, its energy, its talent, its skills, its off-the-wall oddball genius.





"This is for everyone." (Wikimedia Commons: Nick Webb)

As a children’s writer, increasingly dismayed by the sidelining of picture books both in the book chains and in schools, it was immensely reassuring, coming as it did from the same imaginative seam – too rich and deep to disappear. The result was ‘a miracle of rare desire, a stately pleasure dome, with caves of fire.’ Quintessentially, it reflected the shared inner life and psyche of a nation. It was a picture book, writ VERY VERY BIG. To that world, I most definitely belong.

Thank you Danny Boyle and Frank Cottrell Boyce. Thanks also to Boris Johnson for the extra dollop of merriment a few days later in getting stuck on a zip wire flapping his union jacks, as if they might get him going again. (Did anyone hear ‘Poop! Poop!’?).



Thanks also to all those volunteers. I wish I had been one of them.



Team GB (Wikimedia Commons)

Guest blogger, Joyce Dunbar, is an award-winning children’s author with over eighty books published and her series, Mouse and Mole, has been animated for TV. Joyce’s many picture books include Tell Me Something Happy Before You Go To Sleep, Shoe Baby, This is the Star and Oddly. In October, look out for Joyce’s latest fun picture book: Puss Jekyll, Cat Hyde.

Find out more about Joyce Dunbar and her books at http://www.joycedunbar.com/

Working (or not) with Illustrators - Malachy Doyle

People out there in the real world always assume that I’m best buddies with my illustrators. They think we huddle together over a mug of lapsang souchong and hatch out our books.

Now I know there are some classic teams that work like that, but it’s neither the norm nor is it necessary.

Most of my illustrators I’ve never met. We don’t discuss the project on the phone, or by email. In fact, in the vast majority of cases, the only time I have any direct contact with them is once the whole thing is done, dusted and published. I make a point at that stage of thanking them, generally by email (and in order to agree PLR shares.)

It’s not that I’m a curmudgeon, particularly. It’s not that I don’t care, passionately, how the book turns out. It’s just that we probably live hundreds, if not thousands of miles apart, and there’s no actual need for us to meet. And that publishers generally seem to like to keep us apart, so that neither one nor the other has an undue influence on the outcome. They don’t want me to say to the illustrator that it’s got to look like THIS (which is actually not my business), or to tell them if I’m not 100% happy with their artwork (which again, although of course I’m desperately hoping I’ll love it, is not my job).

(And, by the way, the publishers also don’t want the illustrator to say to me, ‘Please could you change the wording to make your zebra green, Malachy, because I spilt a pot of paint on him, and I don’t want to have to draw the whole caboodle again.’ Sort of thing.)

I learnt this when one of my very first picture books was being illustrated. The publisher sent me the early roughs. 'We hope you like them as much as we do.' I spent hours and heart's blood compiling a list of comments / reservations / suggestions. Some weeks later I got sent the next stage of illustration. Not a whiff of my suggestions had been incorporated. I asked why. ‘Oh, the illustrator’s far too sensitive to hear that sort of thing.’ Hmm.

But the thing was, they were right and I was wrong, really. Because even though the book ended up a long long way from how I’d envisaged it, somehow it worked. Because what I hadn’t realised until then is that the art of illustration is NOT about translating the words into pictures. It’s about going beyond and beneath and around the words, and the characters within them, to make that story richer, deeper, funnier and massively more enthralling. That’s what a good illustrator does. That’s what a good art editor is working towards. And that’s why, these days, I leave them to it.

Because since that early book I’ve realised my job is to provide the best story I possibly can, with some (minimal) illustration guidelines if I consider they’re absolutely necessary for editors to make sense of what’s happening. And then, unless I REALLY REALLY REALLY can’t help myself, my job is to stay shtum. It’s like selling your novel to a film company. Respond to what they do with it if you’re asked, but basically stand back... cross your fingers... breathe deeply. And write another one. An even better one, if such a thing is possible.

And if the book comes back and there's a dog on the cover, like in my Owen and the Mountain, even though there’s no dog mentioned in the story, then hold fire...

And if the dog appears on nearly every page, and becomes the emotional pivot of the story, though yours truly the blessed author never even mentioned a dog... then hold fire. Because maybe it works. Because it this case, it does work. It works beautifully.

Because I’m not a visual artist. Yes, I sort of see pictures as I write. Yes, I try to bear in mind that it's good to have a different setting or activity on every spread, to allow for variety of illustration. But the pictures I see as I write are not the ones I’ll see, or even want to see, when I’m presented with the finished book. Often the finished illustrations delight me, sometimes they astound me. (Like Joel Stewart’s wonderfully sensitive and surprising portrayal of my seemingly mis-matched characters in When a Zeeder Met a Xyder. Like Jane Ray putting an Eastern European Marc Chagall-ish feel on my, as I thought distinctly Irish story, The Bold Boy).

My newest one, Too Noisy! is out very soon from Walker Books / Candlewick. (At the time of publication I’ll be away from all the chaos and kerfuffle, walking the Via de la Plata - all 1000 kilometres of it hopefully, from Seville to Santiago de Compostela - which is why I’m telling you about the book now, if you don't mind).

It’s illustrated by the phenomenally talented Ed Vere (that's me, not him, by the way, on the top of a cold mountain), and he does something in this book to convey character that I’ve never seen before. Something truly rare and special. It is SO SO visual, SO SO beautiful, and it ends up SO SO central to not just the look but the plot, that I feel like not only has Ed illustrated my story, but he’s sort of co-written it too.

Who needs to get together round a table and drink lapsang souchong? What you need is an author on top form, an illustrator who’s inspired, and a genius editor and art editor who put their heart and their hoes into it. And then, through hard work and alchemy, abracadabra, you've got yourself a near-perfect picture book. And, in this case, it’s got my name on it. TOO NOISY!

The Way You Make Me Feel - Karen Saunders

One of the things I love most about picture books is the way they can make you feel. My last post was about the power of picture books, and to me, a good picture book is just as emotive as a novel, sometimes even more so. So in this blog post, I thought I’d write about some of my favourite picture books, and the reactions they evoke. 

The Ones That Make Me Laugh…

Diary of a Wombat 

I adore the wombat of this book. He’s just fantastic. I love wombats anyway (what’s not to love about an animal that digs a hole just big enough to fit into, and sleeps in the sun most of the time? In my next life, I’ll be a wombat, please) and this story always makes me laugh, especially now I have a toddler of my own. There are a lot of similarities between that irrational wombat and toddlers, if you ask me…

 

The Lighthouse Keeper’s Lunch

“Ah, well, such is life”, are the final words from Mr Grinling and is a catchphrase that has been regularly repeated by my mum and I over the years.  This book is just lovely, and I laugh every time the poor cat, Hamish, gets put in the basket to chase away the scavenging seagulls, but is far too travel sick to do anything about them. As soon as the basket appears in the pictures, my son points at it, shouting, ‘Hamish! Hamish!’ with glee.

The Ones That Make Me Cry…

Granpa by John Burningham

I’ve always struggled to get through this book without crying, for many reasons. It’s so beautiful, and so simple, and yet there’s so much going on. A wonderful depiction of a grandparent/child relationship, and the huge gap a grandparent leaves behind after they’re gone. 

Goodbye Mog

I’ve loved the Mog books from childhood, so when the last Mog book came out I wanted to read it, but I also knew it was probably going to make me cry. I didn’t realise quite how much… I made the mistake of picking it up in Waterstones, and ended up a blubbering mess in the middle of the children’s section. Beautiful book, though, and a fantastic way of introducing the topic of death to youngsters.

 The Ones That Make Me Reminisce…

Brambly Hedge – The Secret Staircase

Brambly Hedge makes me think about my childhood, and gets me feeling all nostalgic. I remember being transfixed by the secret world in the hedgerows. This story in particular stands out, I remember loving all the secret rooms Primose and Wilfred find, and their special costumes, and the idea of a midwinter festival. 

Hairy McLary from Donaldson’s Dairy

  

This book is wonderful, and a must for any dog lover (or cat lover, come to that). I didn’t have this myself, but my younger brother did, and in our house the milk was delivered from Robinson’s Dairy, so we used to change the words. A brilliant rhyming pattern, making it gorgeous to read out loud, with a fantastic angry cat noise to make when the dogs meet Scarface Claw, the toughest tom in town. 

These are some of my favourites, although obviously there are hundreds more I didn’t include. What about you? Which picture books make you happy, or sad, or remember your childhood?

Visit me online at www.karensaunders.co.uk

Follow me on Twitter @writingkaren

Need an app? Ask an author! Moira Butterfield

A few months ago I heard a spat between children’s author Terry Deary and Professor Susan Greenfield on the future of books. Terry angrily ranted that the book was already dead, and I know that a number of online bloggers stridently agree with him. Others wring their hands and are appalled at the idea of a generation reading only screens and chucking out piles of those fusty old book thingies that their parents used to collect.

People get very angry about it all. Really, properly angry. 

My theory is that those who actively rail against books are in fact defending their beloved interlinked computer universe, the one they’ve often helped to build and spend a lot of time inhabiting.

The hand-wringing group, who foresee doom and ruin for the world if the book goes the way of the top hat stretcher and the crinoline stand, are usually people who were kids in a pre-internet age. They were taught to view books as semi-religious objects, with bookshops as places of worship.

No wonder both groups get so upset.

I believe that we, as authors, should join a different group with a very positive hands-on attitude.

Younger generations simply don’t have the same devotion to the book as a votive object, or to the bookshop/library as a temple, and why should they? But the book argument needn’t be lost, because change provides the opportunity for exciting creativity.

 “A living thing is distinguished from a dead thing by the multiplicity of the changes taking place in it,” said Herbert Spencer, and I think this definitely applies to the book.  The choice of platforms offers an opportunity to combine books and online material to create exciting new products.

So how does all this relate to picture books? We already have apps in which picture books are read out loud and pictures change when children touch the screen. But I believe there could be more innovative computer/picture book mixes out there to discover, and I want publishers to call on us authors for ideas, not just on computer whizzes. I think we should get into the mix and offer our creativity.

As an author of both picture books and material for other age-groups, I very much want to bring my experience to the tablet. I don’t want apps simply created by teccies with no thought for the intricate, delicate, precious magic that happens between a child reading words joined with pictures. Nor do I want to stick my head in the sand, and pretend that the online world doesn’t exist.

I hope publishers will ask authors to help them with creative ideas for stretching their books to make wonderful new material online, and I for one would be delighted if they did.

We authors should start muscling in!

On Being a Reading Omnivore by Penny Ives

Hello, my name is Penny Ives and I'm a children's book author and illustrator. Maybe you're seen some of my stories on Cbeebies? The last one was Celestine and the Penguins, published by Templar and was read by Lulu in January 2012.
You can find my website at www.pennyives.co.uk (Amendment to the 'About' section of the website: one of our goldfish died and sadly, Fishy now swims alone.)



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Mr and Mrs Duck from Celestine Drama Queen (Templar Publishing)

On Being A Reading Omnivore

When I was nine or maybe ten, I spent hours in the wood shed at home, writing dismal songs and poems. My companion was our equally joyless dog, a barrel-chested Basset Hound who hated everyone except my father. She was there under sufferance, the gloomy mother of eight fat puppies, indifferent to both their hopeful whimpering and my hopeless verse.

Encouraged by our school teacher Miss Grayson, I laboured over long descriptions of life on a desert island or the delights of sunny Spain (real imagination called for here, having only travelled as far as Wales) and the glories of an evening summer walk.

But why I trusted kind Miss Grayson’s judgement, I can’t imagine. In the purgatory of our sewing class, wasn’t it she that cooed approvingly over our crocus embroidered tray cloths speckled with blood? Sleeping Beauty had nothing on us when it came to the pricking of small fingers. And didn’t she make equally rapturous comments over my felt cat, with its blocky little body and fixed green eyes bulging dangerously from an over generous stuffing of kapok?

Supposedly buoyed up by my questionable needle work skills, I applied the same technique to the weekly creative essay. Every sentence was packed with as many adjectives as my vocabulary would allow until the lines rolled over and gave up, the evening summer walk weighed down with, “…in the warm, dusty air, a splendid, shimmering pheasant picked his royal way into the flaming, brilliant red of sunset.” Surely, Miss Grayson had been tempted to put a line, black as a raven’s wing, through that lot?

It may come as no surprise that I moved seamlessly on from the descriptive limits of The Famous Five stories by Enid Blyton, where I had dreamed of being Anne (blond, with two brothers and a bicycle - I had neither) via James Bond (a paperback found in a holiday caravan), The Yellow Triangle ( my mother’s library book), A Puffin Quartet of Poets (price three shillings and sixpence) to Lawrence, Laurie Lee and Orwell and anything else I could lay my hands on in our small town library. At last, I realised that language didn’t have to be as purple as a blackberry stain but could be refined and wonderful, sensuous and thrilling.

So when I heard the other day that infant school children will be taught only using phonics and that the letter “Z” won’t be included until they are quite ready for its dizzy sound, regardless of whether they have already begun to recognise words and happen to like the word ”zoo”, my heart sank. A year or two into school, my own life had been blighted by Janet and John, a dull pair if ever there was and here we are in 2012 with a letter z-less world, cut backs in budgets and the closure of local libraries.
Without my English teachers, the library and the freedom to buy whatever I liked with birthday book tokens, how thin and flat my childhood would have been - no quirky EH Shepard drawings, no peppery voice of Mary Poppins.

And now, as a writer (albeit not a very good one), I try to resist the lure of the adjective and put a line through them before either the editor does or my readers fall asleep with boredom.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Teaching Makes Me a Better Writer - Lynne Garner

Following on from Paeony's post about why she teaches writing (just scroll down - it's well worth a read) I wanted to add why I teach.

I was a teacher before I was a writer; I became a writer because of my teaching. I was always writing hand-outs for the craft sessions I taught. Then one day I had a light bulb moment and realised I could make a little on-the-side if I used this skill to write for magazines. Once I had a few magazines features and craft books under my belt I branched out into writing picture books.

A number of years later I had another light bulb moment, yes they are few and far between. Having had 21 books published I realised I was now able to teach writing. I soon discovered that teaching was forcing me to read about my chosen craft and discover new techniques. A good example of this was when I was updating the notes for a distance learning course I start to teach next month (How To Write A Picture Book And Get Published). I was researching story construction and 'discovered' a way of constructing stories known as a 'cumulative' story or a 'chain story.' This is where the character repeats the same actions and or words but with each repeat a little extra information is added. Two well-known examples of this story type are The House That Jack Built and There was an Old Woman Who Swallowed a Fly. Although I know both stories I didn't realise the format had an actual name.

I am now experimenting with this format and enjoying the process. So if I hadn't been teaching I might never had found then experimented with this story form. I now look forward to my next discovery and being able to share that as well with my students.

Lynne Garner

http://fuelledbyhotchocolate.blogspot.co.uk/

Why do I tutor courses on writing children’s books? by Paeony Lewis

I’ve tutored lots of courses on writing children’s books. Several times I’ve been asked why I teach the courses. Aren’t I just creating more competition? Well, I’ve never thought of it like that. But why do I do it? Hmmm…

Is it just for the money?
No way! Adult education is appallingly paid. It may appear OK, but that’s before the time-sucking, soul-bruising paperwork that takes longer than the courses.

Aren’t writers recluses? Do I teach as a way of meeting people?
No. If you write picture books of 500 words, you don’t have to chain yourself to a computer for months. It’s those that live in an imaginary world of 150,000 words who most need to hide away. However, I’m still a writer and most writers are nosy and like meeting people.

Maybe I teach because I have a fetish for scrawling on white boards and flip charts?
Nope. Do I need to expand on this, or will you take my word for it?

Then do I teach because I pick up lots of ideas from student’s stories?
Incredibly, that has been suggested. The answer is NO. Utterly, totally NO! Sometimes I need to tell a student I’ve already written a story based around what they think is their new idea. I also stress that this shouldn’t stop them writing their own story because you can’t copyright ideas and we all bring our own style, interpretation and experience to a story. Nuff said.

Ah, so it’s probably because, “Those who can, do; those who can't, teach.”
That condescending quote originally came from a George Bernard Shaw play. It always irritates me when used to squash teachers. What’s wrong with enjoying both? If you have a passion for something it can be fun to share. Grrr…
(Calming breath…)

So, do I teach simply because I enjoy teaching?
Well, I wouldn’t do it for free. However, I did a BBC personality test and it seems I’m a ‘nurturer’. Does that explain why I enjoy teaching? Not sure. And I’m not sure about personality tests. Though it may explain why I ‘nurture’ too many pets.

Then maybe I teach because I also learn?
In a weird way, that’s sometimes true. Having to articulate how I do something reminds me of how I should be doing it. Does that make sense? I can’t teach others if I don’t understand it myself. Therefore I have to analyse what makes a successful picture book story. Although, of course, there isn’t a magic formula and sometimes ‘knowing stuff’ is most useful when analysing why a story isn't working.

Finally, does teaching inspire me to write?
Oh yes, it provides a good kick in the bum! By encouraging others to write, I’m also encouraging myself. Plus teaching reminds me how much I know. Oh, and how much I‘ve forgotten.


So I’ll keep on tutoring classes, because even with appalling pay, frustrations with Adult Education, gratuitous paperwork, and very occasionally a student I’d like to gag, I still enjoy teaching something I’m passionate about: picture books and children’s books. Hope students enjoy it too! And as for how much can be learnt on a course; that's another blog...

Paeony Lewis
www.paeonylewis.com

The Clue is in the Name. Editing your PICTURE book manuscript: making every word count by Juliet Clare Bell

It is a truth universally acknowledged -by picture book editors- that a picture book manuscript landing on an editor's desk is highly likely to be in want of a serious word-slashing.

There was a notorious world-slasher in my old picture book critique group. By day, he was a computer wizard...

By night, he would sharpen his sword/pen/tracking changes buttons and let rip...

He was brilliant. We’d put up a 600-word manuscript to be critiqued and with a swish and a slash (or a rattle of keyboard keys), it would come back at 400 words, just like that. And it was almost always the better for it (even if, temporarily, we weren't).

Of course not everyone is lucky enough to have an external word-slasher, so it is extremely useful to hone your own word-slashing skills.

Reducing the word count of your picture book manuscript for its own sake would be a very crude way of editing. But most picture book manuscripts are too long (ask any picture book editor). So, in conjunction with a really good understanding of the picture book form, losing (the RIGHT, or should that be WRONG?) words can help shape your manuscript into something really special. It’s often easier to slash someone else’s words, so I’ve put a chunk of my not-quite-final version of Don’t Panic, Annika! at the end of this post in case anyone wants to practise on mine, first. You can let rip on it and see how your edits compare with the final picture book.

The very first notes for Don't Panic, Annika! (NB I didn't write them at a funny angle but blogger and I argued a lot this morning. And blogger won...)


Editing picture book manuscripts is different from editing other manuscripts. Being manuscripts, they do not have pictures in, and yet the form of the picture book means that the story is told through both the pictures and the text. This can make it trickier to edit, and, until you’re confident of what a great picture book manuscript (as opposed to the book itself) looks like, possibly less satisfying, too. A manuscript for a great novel will read as brilliantly as the novel itself. A manuscript for a great picture book will not. But that’s the point. It’s not MEANT to. It’s a picture book. It’s all about the book as a whole.

Here are a few tips for tightening up, reducing word count and producing the best picture book manuscript you can. If you have any other tips, please do share them in the comments section, below...

[1] Type out the text of a picture book you really like. Better still, type out the text of several picture books you like. (Make sure these are non-rhyming ones as rhyming picture books/really lyrical stories (such as Malachy Doyle’s When A Zeeder Met a Xyder) often use pictures in a slightly different way -more to enhance the feel of the story rather than telling parts of the story themselves). If possible, use recent books that have been published in the last ten years as the kind of picture book now being published has changed.)

How Tom Beat Captain Najork and his Hired Sportsmen (by Russell Hoban and Quentin Blake, this edition, Random House, Little Greats, 1983) is a fab book, but it won't work for the purposes of this exercise. You need something more recent...

The Baby That Roared by Simon Puttock and Nadia Shireen (Nosy Crow, 2012) is an excellent example of a recent picture book written by an author as opposed to an illustrator-author where the pictures and text combine beautifully.

Then look at that manuscript alongside the book and ask yourself: what would you have to put as an illustration note in order for an editor to understand the story? Add those necessary notes to the manuscript.

How does the manuscript look without the pictures? When a picture book is really good, since you read it as a whole (pictures and text together) you often don’t realise at first how much of it is told through the pictures. It can be very enlightening to see what can look like a disjointed manuscript for a great picture book. Remember, you’re not aiming for something that will flow beautifully without the aid of pictures (as it will look as a manuscript in your hands); you are looking for something that will flow beautifully as a picture book. This may mean, compared to a novel -told entirely through the text, your manuscript will look less impressive to your friends or even writers who usually only see picture books in their finished forms. Indeed, a more polished version of your picture book manuscript, where you are letting the pictures take on the job that some of your text was doing previously, will often appear less appealing to someone not used to a picture book manuscript than an earlier version where the -imagined- pictures aren't pulling their weight. However, picture book editors know how to imagine the pictures. It's their job.

Now look at your own manuscript. How does it compare, visually? Could your text be less dense? Could you let your pictures (even if they’re currently only in your head) do more of the work? Could you use interesting page turns (which, incidentally, can often tighten up your manuscript by letting the pictures work harder)?

[2] Capture your story in a single sentence and write it down. Keep referring back to this sentence when you read through your story. Is every line/word adding something important to your story (as summarised in your sentence)? If not, could you cut it? And is there anything else that could be shown through the pictures and not the text?

[3] Do the slasher challenge. Tell yourself this is an exercise and not an edit –and make sure you save a copy of the original...

If it helps to do this with an old manuscript of yours first before moving onto your current one, that’s fine. Write your word count on top of your story. Go through your manuscript (it often helps to do this on a hard copy) and be ruthless, cutting out everything that’s not necessary –even if it’s your favourite phrase/word. If you’re cutting out text so that the pictures can take on more of the story, then jot down as many illustrator notes as you want to –at this stage. See how many words you can remove without losing sight of the story. This doesn’t have to be your final copy, so don’t worry about over-slashing.

Try and leave at least a day before going back to this new (exercise) version –and preferably longer. Re-read it. Does it still make sense? You may be pleasantly surprised. Could you get used to it in this shorter form? I usually find that I prefer the shorter version, even when some of my previously favourite phrases have gone. Could you use your slashed version (even if you choose to add in a few extra words)? And can you now remove any of the illustration notes?

Even if you don’t choose to use your exercise version, when you re-read your original version, it may well seem overly long and it may be easier to tighten it up a little less drastically.

[4] Create the picture book experience (or as close as you can without the pictures). Print your manuscript and cut out the text and stick it on to an existing picture book in the place where you think it works (I use blue tack). Then video yourself reading it at the right pace and with the right page turns. Although it can be embarrassing to watch initially (it was with Don’t Panic, Annika! ), you needn’t show anyone else (I won’t), and it can be extremely useful for creating the experience of a picture book reading so you can do a final edit before sending it off.

[5] Show your manuscript to other writers, and preferably picture book writers. Those who aren’t used to picture book manuscripts will probably think you need to tell more in the text of the story (so it’s easier to read as a manuscript) and have fewer illustration notes. Those who are used to picture book manuscripts will often think you can leave more to the illustrations –and often without having to add in extra illustration notes. Remember, it is the job of the editor to imagine the story visually.

I don’t think it’s any coincidence that some of the very best and truest picture books are written by illustrator-authors –two of my all-time favourites are Not Now, Bernard by David McKee and Rosie’s Walk by Pat Hutchins (which, incidentally, started out as a normal-length text. Her editor read it and showed her a single line that he really liked -about the fox following her. That then became the whole story whilst never actually being mentioned in the text).

I was going to put a picture of Not Now Bernard and Rosie's Walk up but I look at those books so frequently that I've mislaid them. So here's a random cute-picture-of-a-child-in-a-wig, instead.


But I don’t love these books most for their illustrations. In fact, there are many books whose illustrations I prefer. I love them for their storytelling, which is so perfect a combination of words and pictures. Authors-who-don’t-illustrate can, of course, achieve this (see Pippa Goodheart's post on Arthur's Tractor), but I think it’s something that comes less naturally to some of us than to illustrator-authors. What we need is practise, practise, practise… and to know a good-looking picture book manuscript when we see one.

***

...And here’s your chance to practise on my text for Don’t Panic, Annika! first. The first few scenes are interspersed with comments as to why I edited it the way I did. The final two are set out in one block for anyone who wishes to try slashing mine before moving on to their own…

EXAMPLE 1
Scene from Spreads 1 and 2. ORIGINAL VERSION AND COMMENTS ON THE FINAL EDIT.

Annika was a panicker.
When things went wrong, she always panicked.

[I DON’T NEED ‘WHEN THINGS WENT WRONG’. AND BY ITALICISING ALWAYS, THE EMPHASIS IS CLEAR ENOUGH WITH FEWER WORDS.]

She panicked at the seaside when she dropped Moose in the rock pool.
“He’s fallen in! I can’t get him! He’s going to sink! I’ll never see him again!” she shouted.

[THE PICTURES CAN SHOW WHERE SHE IS SO I DON’T NEED AT THE SEASIDE (AND THE LOCATION FOR THAT SCENE ACTUALLY CHANGED). AND I’VE USED MORE THAN I NEED TO SHOW SHE’S A PANICKER. THE LAST TWO SENTENCES SHE UTTERS CAN GO]

“Try fishing him out with your net,” said her dad.
“I can’t! I can’t!” shouted Annika.

[BY PUTTING ‘I CAN’T!’ IN CAPITALS, I CAN LOSE THE SECOND ONE AND IT STILL FEELS LIKE SHE’S PANICKY]

“Don’t panic, Annika,” said her dad. “Just breathe in and out, in and out, really slowly, and you’ll feel better. Then you’ll be able to do it.”

[‘SAID DAD’, ‘SAID MUM’ (RATHER THAN ‘SAID HER DAD’… THROUGHOUT THE BOOK REDUCES WORD COUNT, AND THE READER FEELS MORE DRAWN INTO THE FAMILY. AND I CAN LOSE ‘THEN YOU’LL BE ABLE TO DO IT’.]

So Annika breathed in and out, in and out, really slowly, and sure enough, she did feel a bit better.

[I DON’T NEED ‘JUST’ AND SOMEONE SUGGESTED THAT ‘BREATHE IN AND OUT…’ SOUNDED TOO EDUCATIONAL/MEDICAL SO I CHANGED IT TO ‘TAKE A NICE DEEP BREATH’. AND IT’S CLEAR ENOUGH THAT SHE’S FEELING BETTER AS SHE’S ABLE TO DO WHAT SHE COULDN’T PREVIOUSLY DO]

And she fished Moose out of the rock pool.
“Brilliant!” said her dad.
***
The scene became tighter, with word count reduced by 40% (118 down to 72 words), leaving a much less cluttered page:

Don't Panic, Annika! (by Juliet Clare Bell and Jennifer E. Morris, 2011, Piccadilly Press) Spread 1

Spread 2 (copyright Juliet Clare Bell and Jennifer E. Morris, Piccadilly Press, 2011)

EXAMPLE 2: Spread 4 lost 33 words (from 111 down to 78) when I cut out the unnecessary words:

And she panicked when she couldn’t find Moose at bedtime.

[INCIDENTALLY, SOMETHING HERE THAT DIDN’T REDUCE WORD COUNT BUT IMPROVED HOW THE STORY READ WAS TO CHANGE ‘SHE PANICKED WHEN…’ WITH EACH PANICKY EXAMPLE IN SPREADS 1, 3 AND 4, TO ‘WHEN SHE X/Y/Z, … SHE PANICKED’ (SEE SPREADS FROM THE PUBLISHED BOOK, BELOW). PUTTING THE REPEATED WORDS AT THE END (SINCE IT’S REPEATED TWICE AFTER ITS FIRST USE) GIVES THE CHILD SOMETHING TO PREDICT SO HE OR SHE CAN JOIN IN.]

“He’s gone! He’s not there! He should be in the bed! I’ll never see him again!”

[I CAN LOSE TWO OF THESE AND STILL HAVE HER SEEMING PANICKY.]

“Try thinking where you might have left him,” said her mother.
“I can’t! I can’t!” shouted Annika. “He’s gone!”
“Don’t panic, Annika,” said her mum. “Just close your eyes and think about how nice it will be when you’ve found him.”

[DON’T NEED ‘ABOUT’]

So Annika closed her eyes and thought about how nice it would be falling asleep all snuggled up with Moose, and sure enough, she did feel a bit better. And then she remembered.

[‘THOUGHT ABOUT HOW NICE IT WOULD BE FALLING ASLEEP ALL SNUGGLED…’ COULD SIMPLY BE ‘THOUGHT ABOUT FALLING ASLEEP SNUGGLED…’

“He’s in the bathroom, brushing his teeth.”

[THE LOCATION WILL BE CLEAR FROM THE PICTURE, SO I CAN LEAVE OUT ‘HE’S IN THE BATHROOM’]

Spread 4 (copyright Juliet Clare Bell and Jennifer E. Morris, Piccadilly Press, 2011)


EXAMPLE 3: THE SCENE IN SPREADS 8 AND 9 WERE EDITED FROM 87 TO 68 WORDS. PERHAPS YOU CAN DO BETTER…
counted up to ten, nice and slowly. And she felt a bit better. And then she remembered. There were spare keys hanging up in the kitchen!
But the spare keys were too high as well.
Annika almost started to panic again,
but instead, she...
closed her eyes and thought about how nice it would be, flying kites, all together again.
And she felt a bit better.
She got her fishing net and stretched it up to the keys and hooked them into the net.

[MY CHANGES: DON’T NEED ‘UP’ IN ‘COUNTED TO TEN’/ WE’LL SEE SHE’S FEELING BETTER SO AGAIN, REMOVE. DON’T NEED ‘THEN’ IN ‘AND SHE REMEMBERED’/ DON’T NEED ‘HANGING UP’ IN THE KITCHEN –WE’LL SEE THAT IN THE PICTURE/ CHANGED TO ‘ANNIKA NEARLY PANICKED’ AS IT’S LESS CLUNKY/ CHANGED TO: ‘CLOSED HER EYES AND THOUGHT ABOUT FLYING KITES WITH HER MUM AND BROTHER’. WE KNOW IT WOULD BE NICE AND THE PICTURE WILL SHOW THIS, AND THAT THEY’RE ALL TOGETHER AGAIN. IT’S ALSO LESS CLUNKY. AND WE KNOW SHE’S FEELING BETTER SO WE CAN REMOVE THAT, TOO./ CHANGED LAST LINE TO: ‘THEN SHE STRETCHED UP AND HOOKED THE KEYS INTO HER FISHING NET’. THE PICTURES WILL SHOW THAT HER FISHING NET IS THERE.]

EXAMPLE 4: THE SCENE FROM Spread 10. HERE, THE WORD COUNT IS HALVED, FROM 74 TO 38.

Outside, a crowd was gathering. “What shall we do?” shouted the milkman.
“We can’t get in! The windows are all shut,” shouted Annika’s mother.
“We’ll have to phone for help!” shouted the neighbour.
“STOP!” called a voice from inside the house. It was Annika.
“Don’t panic, Annika!” shouted everyone.
“I’m not panicking,” said Annika, calmly.
“But you’re inside and we’re outside, and you can’t get out and we can’t get in!” shouted her mum.

AND HERE’S THE FINAL EDIT:

Back in the hall, Annika heard a terrible racket coming from outside.
“DON’T PANIC, ANNIKA!” shouted everyone.
“I’m not panicking,” said Annika.
“BUT YOU CAN’T GET OUT AND WE CAN’T GET IN!” shouted her mum.
“STOP!” shouted Annika.

[THE OUTSIDE CROWD SCENE IN THE ORIGINAL WAS NOT TOLD FROM ANNIKA’S POINT OF VIEW AND IT’S HER STORY. SECOND, THE PICTURES CAN SHOW THE CHAOTIC SCENE FROM OUTSIDE. AND WE DON’T NEED THE ADVERB, CALMLY. WE WILL SEE THE CONTRAST BETWEEN ANNIKA AND THE OTHERS IN THE PICTURES. INCIDENTALLY, I DID NOT PUT ANNIKA SHOUTING ‘STOP!’ IN THE FINAL VERSION AT FIRST. MY CHOICE WAS TO HAVE HER SAY IT (TO MAKE IT COMPLETELY CLEAR THAT SHE WAS NOT PANICKING). THE PUBLISHER WANTED IT BECAUSE OF THE WAY IT WOULD WORK WITH A SPECIFIC PICTURE.]

Happy slashing… (and please do leave your own top tips for editing your picture book manuscripts in the comments, below). Thank you.

Juliet Clare Bell writes (mainly) picture books. Don't Panic, Annika! (illustrated by Jennifer E. Morris, Piccadilly Press in the UK; other publishers overseas; 2011)was shortlisted for the Crystal Kite 2012 and will soon be a CBeebies Bedtime Story. The Kite Princess (illustrated by Laura-Kate Chapman and read by Imelda Staunton; Barefoot Books) is out in September, 2012. www.julietclarebell.com

Who are these picture books for? - Linda Strachan

A while ago on Picturebook Den I asked the question What is a picture book?

I was writing about different kinds of picture books, board books and longer picture books, and asking for your favourites for little ones.

But there are some picture books which are in that grey area and beg the question - who are they aimed at?

Two in particular spring to mind that are picture books, but I am fairly sure neither of them will appeal to the majority of parents of  small children, for completely different reasons - although I am prepared to be convinced otherwise, if you can come up with a good argument.
But perhaps that is not who they are aimed at?

I am  sure that ardent fans of both writers  love the books and I must say I have enjoyed both of them for different reasons, but I am still not sure I would read them to under 5's!  So who are they for?

The first book... Terry Pratchett's  Where's My Cow?
(note- It does say it is a picture book "for people of all sizes.')



I will admit to being a Pratchett fan and this book probably appeals in the first instance because it is set in his famous Discworld featuring Sam Vimes of the City Watch who is reading a book to his little son.
 I love the way it shows two different stories  (well three, really) at the same time.
There is a very traditional 'Where's my cow?' - someone looking for a cow and asking
'Is that my cow?
It goes "CLUCK!"
It is a chicken' etc etc
The images are pale and overlaid is a strong image of the father, Sam Vimes, and his son along with comments by Vimes such as,  "You'd have to be really silly to mix up a chicken and a cow!"  He eventually gives his son a very Pratchett style lecture  on what to do if you lose your cow and decides it is not the best story for his son and starts a new story 'Where's my Daddy?'

This is where the book changes.  Images becomes a little darker although still humorous, as the less salubrious characters from Ankh Morpork are suggested as possibilities, with the first being Foul Ole Ron.
Where's my daddy?
Is that my Daddy?
It goes  "Bugrit!... 
We all know how quickly children, particularly tinies, repeat anything they hear and I can just imagine those little copycats repeating that gem as they trip up the steps to nursery!

For the adult or older child it is a fun book although for those not accustomed to buying and reading picture books it may seem very short and, as at least one reviewer says, very expensive for such a short book! 
I personally think they have missed the point.  A story is as long or as short as it needs to be and the illustrations are eye catching and a lot of fun, even more so if you are a Pratchett fan already. BUT who is it for, and does that really matter?

The second book... is one I saw a while back, The Wolves in the Walls, by Neil Gaiman.  I have to admit when I first picked up this book I was put off by the illustrations.  They were just not appealing to me, which is not to say others will not find them wonderful.

I remember my first reaction to the book was that the story coupled with these illustrations made it seem a terrifying book for young children.  I don't know that I paid enough attention to the text at the time but I wasn't inclined to stay with it.

Last week I was given a CD of Neil Gaiman reading some of his own short stories and this was one of them. I was on my own in the car when I listened to it and I found the language was rich ...

'Lucy hears sneaking, creeping,
crumpling noises
coming from inside the walls.'

and the story, being read to me, created quite different and much brighter images in my mind. It was much more appealing than the book had been.
I still think it is the kind of book that would give a lot of children nightmares and personally I would have wished that the lovely language (and the way the story was told) had been paired with much gentler images that would have taken away a little of the scariness and made it more accessible to younger children.

But perhaps that is not what the author wanted anyway.  His young daughter is on the CD interviewing him.  I don't suppose he was trying to give her nightmares, they sound great together, so perhaps he is blessed with unscare-able children!

Over to you....

What do you think of these books?
Who do you think they are for?  Or does that matter?

Can you suggest other picture books that are similarly not particularly suitable for young children, for whatever reason?



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. www.lindastrachan.com
Linda Strachan is the award winning author of over 60 books for all ages, from picture books to teen novels and writing handbook  Writing For Children

My Favourite Rejection by Jane Clarke

Like many people, I started off with a couple of years of unremitting rejection before going on to be published.  These days, even with an agent, and lots of books behind me, I have around a 3 in 4 failure rate for getting picture book stories published, so I can claim to be experienced.  If I send a story to my agent and she just comments ‘that’s very sweet,’ I know it’s doomed from the start.

The stories my agent likes enough to send on to an editor sometimes go on to be accepted, but they’re frequently rejected at various stages in the publishing process. It’s disappointing when an editor loves a story but can’t get it past marketing - and it’s most disappointing when ‘low sales projections’ mean the project is ditched after contracts are signed and colour artwork is in (something that has only happened to me once, I’m pleased to say).

One of the advantages of having an agent is that a gentle’ no’ filters back to me – often leavened with humour. I couldn’t help a wry smile when the news of the rejection of a story called Chirpy Chicks came to me in an email entitled ‘not so chirpy chicks’.  These days, I take rejection philosophically (after all, nobody got hurt or died) and by the time I hear that my agent has done all she can for a particular story, I’ve already moved on to other ideas.  And I prefer to think positively – a 3 in 4 failure rate is a 1 in 4 success rate. YAY!

I’m often not given a reason for a rejection, beyond ‘not strong enough’ or ‘not right for our list.’  But just occasionally the reasons are very specific, and can even make me laugh. My favourite rejection concerns a picture book story about a dung beetle:

 ‘…we enjoyed reading your story, but we felt that the pictures would be too brown…’

Do you have a favourite reason for being rejected?