Faith Writes.
- Faith Richardson
- Mar 23
- 3 min read
Seeking the ever-elusive Picture Book contract ...
I'm beginning to wonder if it truly exists. That email/letter/phone call when submission turns to offer. I'm starting to think that the existing picture books out there--lining the walls of bookstores and libraries--are, in fact, products of spontaneous generation. Surely, these gorgeous books do not arise from the clack of computer keys off a desk ringed with coffee cup stains. They cannot be products from the messy mind of a human!
I have always wanted to successfully write and publish a picture book. Not just to be able to say, "I did it!" but because picture books are sheer magic. A small package with an entire world carved in words and images ... held within covers that hint at what might be waiting inside.
Yes, picture book love! As a very young kid, they were cherished birthday and Christmas presents. I loved sitting and immersing into the pictures and feeling the story come to life. The images from those early picture books stay with me. I remember the smug satisfaction on the face of the cow jumping over the surprised but delighted moon. I can close my eyes and see an elf riding a cat through bluebells and daffodils--a living bit of art memory from a long-tattered picture book. Peter Pan's map to Neverland, from star to star, is etched into my neurons.
I remember my very first day of school. I walked into my first-grade classroom with my big sister (no kindergarten in our farming community) and there, in the middle of the room was a round table with picture books. They were standing up like small tents--the first time that I had seen books displayed that way. The table of book-tents seemed to me to be a universe of unexplored worlds. Of course, I had yet to learn about universes and unexplored world, but my mom had done her job well. I loved books and well-understood the power of stepping into a story.
That day, I opened my first Curious George picture book. And, if not on that day, soon after, I wandered into Caps for Sale, Ferdinand, Little Bear, No Fighting No Biting, The Five Chinese Brothers, Madeline, and the immortal Frog and Toad.
I still find myself inevitably drawn to a table where books are set up like tents. Especially if they are picture books. I have used many different picture books in my college and university classrooms, in health and wellness therapy groups, and in ecotherapy sessions, too.
Picture books bring a pause to the world. For a few moments, we are immersed within story. Story that is made more powerful by being a hybrid of words and images rather than either words or images alone. When I read a picture book aloud to students or clients, no matter their age, there is always a collective sigh at the end. Like the little world we've just been a part of has turned off its lights and gone to bed. But, we smile together, because we all know that we can enter that picture book world again. All is well.
Two picture books that come instantly to mind are Grandfather Twilight, by Barbara Berger, and Snow Ponies by Cynthia Cotten and illustrated by Jason Cockcroft. Both of these books are small, brilliant worlds that soothe and strengthen young and old souls. If you've never had the pleasure of reading these, Grandfather Twilight is a beautiful story picturing how the world shifts from the work-day world to evening rest and moonrise. Snow Ponies spins a story of weather and the scattering whirlwind of snow rising from hooves. I'm sighing with a smile as I write this.
So. You see. I would love to give a little world a nudge and send it out there and have it be a tiny reflection of the many picture book worlds that have given me that wonderful pause ... and sigh.
I'll let you know how it goes!
And just because this one picture has been indelibly imprinted in my mind, I must share with you, the quintessential giant from Jack and the Beanstalk from Fairy Tales (cover photo above) ... and my two favorite Little Golden Books.
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