Staying out of the Picture

What if you write a picture book and then really hate the way an illustrator illustrates your story? Is it hard to watch your story change into something else? What if the illustrations don’t look the way you imaged? What if the illustrator doesn’t draw what’s in your head?

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Here’s the thing: An illustrator is never going to draw what’s in my head. The illustrations are never going to look the way I imagined. So I’m okay with that. It’s not like a nasty surprise. Also, I enjoy watching my story grow into something else while I sit about drinking cups of tea and working on a completely different project.

Maybe it’s because I’m very certain about my undeniable lack of talent in the area of visual arts but I love how once I’ve handed over the text my work is done. I don’t want to review the illustrations mid way and make design suggestion. I’d rather leave all that to the experts. I don’t find it hard to watch the story grow into something else. In fact, I relish it. It feels like a gift when someone else cares about the story as much as me and is as committed to making it better. What a privilege. What a joy. Am I being too gushy? I gush with sincerity.

An illustrator could never recreate what’s in my head because my head is scrambled. When I’m writing I feel like I have a logical visual narrative until I try to explain it to someone and realise that I can’t. What I have in my head is fragmented. There are pieces of people I know, chunks of old conversations, words I’ve made up, imagined realities, translucent images, fleeting feelings, deep emotions, noises from somewhere, tastes and space. Trying to create a coherent linear description of what I have in my head is like trying to make a dream sound real. For me it’s the words that reveal the story I want to share and if I’ve done my job well enough then I’ve captured the parts that need to be written. Call me lazy, but I’m happy to let the illustrator do the rest.

And what if I write a picture book and then really hate the way an illustrator illustrates my story? I don’t know. It’s just not something I worry about.

Staying Out of the Picture © Katrina Germein 2011

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Picture Books & Publication – Part 2

The previous post was about the relative ease of finding a publisher for my first book. This post is about finding a publisher for my fourth book. (Not so easy!)

Finding a home for Littledog. How the manuscript became a book…

In 2006 I began tinkering with a draft about a girl who wanted a pet. I was aware that the theme was unoriginal but saw in it a timeless appeal. The little girl would ask her mother for a pet and the mother’s repeated response created a refrain for the story.

“I don’t think so,” said Mum. “We’re too busy.”

The story was boring and wooden. It lacked energy and depth. I abandoned it.

Months later, while holidaying at the beach with my family, a small black and brown dog began visiting us. He pushed into the yard from under the gate and my children played with him. He came and went as he pleased for a few days. We named him Littledog. One morning Littledog went running with me and it was during that run that the story for the book Littledog began to brew in my head.

By April 2007 the Littledog manuscript was complete; it was 576 words long. I sent it to a major Australian publisher and three months later received a standard form rejection letter.

In July 2007 I resent the story to another publisher. I am embarrassed by the opening paragraph. The first two lines were horrible.

In our family there are four people, and one dog.

There’s me, my mum, my dad, my little brother Sam, and our dog, Littledog.

Littledog found us one afternoon during our holiday.

He was waiting at the shack when we go back from the beach.

In September 2007 I received this feedback from the publisher:

In other words, we don’t want your story; there, squatting among some kind words, was rejection number two.

I decided to try working in more repetition. Perhaps an engaging refrain would bring something unique to the text and set it apart from other lost dog stories.

I toyed with these:

We don’t need a dog

We can’t keep the dog

The dog’s not ours

They were all too negative. I tried

Littledog wagged his bottom and Sam hugged him.

Finally I settled on:

Littledog just wagged his tail. His whole bottom wagged too.

This refrain remains in the published story as shown here below.

I rewrote parts of the manuscript and tightened the story so that even with the inclusion of the new refrain the manuscript was 570 words, not 576. I resent the story to another publisher

In November 2007 I received a standard form rejection letter.

I phoned a fellow children’s author friend to moan, sulk and vent. Why wouldn’t anyone publish a book about a dog? Children love dogs. We think we’ve heard it before but our children haven’t and if they have they’d like to hear it again. My friend and I whined about what we perceived to be the trend in Australian children’s publishing towards edgy ‘issues’ books that were popular with judges on award panels. “Esoteric drivel!” my friend proclaimed, which was sweet of her because it made me giggle.

I had to blame someone so I chose to blame publishers.

By the end of the phone call I’d resolved to keep trying, firm in the belief that stories children can relate about timeless themes such as summer holidays, the beach, family and pets, are ever important and fun.

Later I also calmed down enough to stop blaming the publishing industry and appreciate that maybe the story had been turned down for other reasons. Perhaps it wasn’t yet good enough?

So I redrafted, redrafted and redrafted again. I made many little changes to sharpen the writing. I read it aloud over and over.

When I was finished the first lines read:

Littledog found us one holiday evening.

He was waiting at the shack when we got back from the beach.

These sentences remain in the published book as shown here below.

Littledog was now 545 words long. I submitted the manuscript to another publisher and received a standard form rejection letter.

In February 2008 I redrafted once more and trimmed the text until the story was 519 words long. I sent it out for the fifth time.

After a few months there was an email from an editor. She thought the story was ‘delightful’ and she planned to take it to their acquisition meeting in August.

In August 2008 I received a letter of offer from the publishers, Scholastic Australia.

In December 2008 I signed the contract. Yeeha!

During 2009 Littledog was beautifully illustrated by Tamsin Ainsley, then beautifully designed and then printed.

In Feb 2010 Littledog was released nationally! Hooray!

So, was it worth it?

Definitely!

Picture Books and Publication – Part 2 © Katrina Germein 2010

Have you had similar experiences?

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Purchase a copy of Littledog

Littledog Teaching Notes

Read a review of Littledog – Readings

Read a review of Littledog – Story Time Books

Read a review of Littledog – Books From The Basement

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Picture Books & Publication – Part 1

Writers like to moan a lot. We moan about the hardships of being a writer. Hardship makes for good a story and we like good stories.

But we also moan because our job is hard, or it can be hard. We work alone so sometimes we get lonely. We write what in our heart so when our writing is returned to us, unwanted, our hearts get broken. But we don’t know how to stop and so with scarred hearts we continue. Sometimes we have successes. And sometimes we have long periods of setbacks which we face alone, as we write alone; sustained by belief that one day it will be worth it. And even if it’s not, not worth it, we can’t stop; we don’t know how.

To begin with my life as a writer didn’t have a very good story. I had nothing to moan about. The first submission I ever mailed contained the first manuscript I had ever written. I simultaneously sent my story to about six Australian publishers and within a few weeks I had an editor on the phone and a contract on the way. Hey presto. A book was born.

It’s not always that easy.

Next week I’ll post the story of my fourth book. It’s a longer story with more room for moaning. But it has a happy ending.

Picture Books and Publication – Part 1 © Katrina Germein 2010

Have you had a similar experience?

Read Part 2.

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The Problem with Happy Endings

There’s a book in our house that I think is delightful. It’s a fun, sweet picture book that two of my three children enjoy reading with me. But my eldest son, the one who has the habit of looking at the world from alternative angles, finds it very frustrating indeed. What he doesn’t like about the story, what he finds so exasperating, is the happy ending.

The book is Cuddly Dudley by Jez Alborough. Cuddly Dudley is an adorable penguin that everyone just wants to cuddle. Dudley becomes fed up with the constant attention and sets off in search of a quiet life alone. The story ends when Cuddly ‘…discovers that maybe being with friends – and being incredibly cuddly – isn’t so bad after all.’ (Book blurb www.walkerbooks.com.au )

It’s not that my son wants a sad ending; he just feels that Dudley shouldn’t need to change. You see in the story when Dudley is away from those who love him he becomes lost and lonely. So when he is reunited with the other penguins he accepts their smothering cuddles with relief. To me this is a charming and satisfying resolution to a lovely, engaging book.

“I knew that would happen,” grumbled my eldest son when we first read the book together. (Ignoring the little joke on the last page.) “That always happens. Why did he have to change? Why couldn’t they? It always happens like that. Every time.  Always.”

It seems my son is bothered by the timeless theme of not realising what you have until it’s not there. He’s had enough of personal journeys of self discovery. My son believes that the other penguins should have just accepted that Dudley didn’t like cuddles. Then Dudley wouldn’t have had to leave and Dudley ultimately wouldn’t have had to change. And they could still all live happily ever after.

Hmm, I imagine that if that’s how the story went then there wouldn’t really be much of a story. However it did start me thinking. Does it really always happen like that? Do we always teach our protagonist how to fit in with others rather than guiding our characters to accept difference and appreciate quirks? Do we compromise our characters in order to create those nice story arcs that publishers and teachers seem especially fond of?

I think it’s more likely that as writers we pen such stories unintentionally. Our brains help us to make sense of the word through writing and therefore lead us to satisfying denouements. Often when I write I am surprised by how conclusions simply reveal themselves along the way. But if that always happens, if we always neatly tie up the endings with peaceful conformity then what messages are we giving our young audience?

A quick look through our family bedtime favourites reassured me that, although common, it doesn’t always happen. Many different books. Many different endings. Many different messages. I’m hoping too that rather than giving our young audiences messages with our stories we stimulate thought for them take away their own messages. I’m glad that I read Cuddly Dudley to my son. I’m glad that the story gave him opportunity to express feelings and helped his me to understand him a little better. Ah, another happy ending.

The Problem with Happy Endings © Katrina Germein 2010

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