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A few days ago in Think Before You Write, I mentioned that although a picture book is short, it doesn’t take a short time to write:

You whittle down the length so every word packs a punch, while still presenting a compelling page-turner, full of illustrative potential. (Which means you have to leave some things unsaid.)

So what does that mean? Leaving some things unsaid? Well, I’ve found perfect examples from Kathi Appelt. (Yes, Newbery Honoree Kathi Appelt. She knows her stuff.)

Today my daughter asked me to read Appelt’s Bubba and Beau Meet the Relatives, one of our favorite picture books.

Appelt says a lot with a little, meaning she uses a few words to describe a situation, leaving illustrator Arthur Howard to fill in the blanks.

Bubba and Beau Meet the Relatives is about a baby boy, his bloodhound puppy and the Texan family relatives who come to visit one afternoon. Bubba’s Mama Pearl quickly prepares for the relatives’ arrival.

Appelt says: “First Mama Pearl went on a home improvement spree.”
Howard draws: Mama Pearl shoving clothes into a drawer, pushing an overstuffed closet closed, and sweeping Bubba’s toys underneath the bed.

Notice it took 19 words to describe the illustrations, but Appelt only used 9 words to set the scene.

Appelt says: “Then she handed out orders.”
Howard draws: Mama Pearl pointing to a cobweb which Big Bubba swats with a broom, Mama Pearl holding a bag for the bloodhound to put away his bones and balls, Big Bubba vacuuming with Beau riding the cleaner.

And there it took 36 words to describe the illustrations, but Appelt only used 5. (OK, I could have described the art in a tighter fashion, but I think you see my point.)

Later in the story, Appelt introduces “…Cousin Arlene and her dog, Bitsy.”

Appelt says: “Honey, it was froufrou city.”
Howard draws: Cousin Arlene in a frilly pink dress, with a pink bow to match the one atop Bitsy’s fluffy head.

Once again, Appelt’s petite word count packs a humorous punch, with Howard’s illustrations telling half the story.

In our favorite scene of the story, Bubba, Beau, Arlene and Bitsy have just been discovered in the mud hole. “Only one thing to do,” says Big Bubba.

Page turn. (Which means a surprise is coming!)

Appelt says: “Yeehaw, honey! It was a picture-perfect day in Bubbaville.”
Howard draws: The entire family sitting in the back of Big Bubba’s truck, which has been filled with a hose so it’s a southern-style pick-up truck pool.

At kidlit conferences and events I’ve repeatedly heard that picture book writers must leave room for illustrations. Bubba and Beau provides a superior example of how to write a successful tale that inspires brilliant pictures. The words and images work beautifully together like Bogey & Bacall, Astair & Rogers, and Lady Gaga & Elton John. (OK, maybe that last analogy wasn’t so good. But I needed something current.)

If you have a recommendation of a picture book that says a lot with a little, let’s hear it!

OK, excuse the bad rhyme in the title. I told you before, I don’t write rhyming picture books. (I hear you breathing a sigh of relief. Me too.)

Kidlit agent Mark McVeigh is running a contest on his new blog. Well, it’s not really a contest, it’s a give-away. Of his time. Find 10 friends to follow his blog and he’ll give you a 15-minute Skype or phone chat.

So, if you follow him, let me know by leaving a comment!

(You should follow him. Don’t make me come over there and beg. It won’t be pretty.)

A typical day as a newbie writer: sit down at the computer, start writing.

At least, that’s what I did two years ago. I got an idea and I didn’t stop to think: is this a good idea? Is it marketable? Has anyone written something like this before? Nope. I just wrote, motivated by my muse.

And perhaps this was good back then. I was honing my skills, finding the right words, crafting sentences, building stories.

But they were looooong stories. At an average 1,500 words my tales were neither picture books nor chapter books. I insisted I was writing picture storybooks, and I used Patricia Polacco’s body of work as an example of how my stories could be published, not realizing, c’mon, she’s PATRICIA POLACCO.

It took me a while to learn to THINK before I write.

An idea begins. I ponder it. I write down the initial concept. What is my topic—what is this story about on its surface? Bulldozers or ballet dancers or dragons? What is at its heart? Is it about friendship or fitting in or family? Who is my character and what does he want? What is my hook? Can I boil the concept down to one line?

Then I research. Is there anything similar already published? If so, I’ve got to change it up a bit. Or let it go.

I ask myself these important questions:

  • Is this picture book marketable?
  • Will someone pay $16 to buy it?

Granted, these are difficult questions to answer objectively. Of course you want to believe that everyone will buy your book! But as a mother of two picture book age kids, I know this isn’t the case. If we don’t love reading the book over and over again, I won’t buy it. I try to use my motherly instinct to answer these questions and I think of my other parent friends. (And then I stalk parents in the bookstore and ask them what they think. No, just kidding. But I’m tempted.)

If I can’t answer “yes,” the idea gets filed away for the future, when I can perhaps transform it into something more extraordinary.

If I do answer “yes,” (or even “maybe”) then I create a brief outline or I just write. And I keep the proper length in mind: 500 to 700 words.

Some writers may call this process stifling. But I call it smart. Because if you want to be published, you have to examine these elements before you write. Because although picture books are short, they don’t take a short time to write.

Sure, you may pump out a first draft in a few days, or even less, but picture book revisions could go on for weeks, months, even years until you get it right. You whittle down the length so every word packs a punch, while still presenting a compelling page-turner, full of illustrative potential. (Which means you have to leave some things unsaid.) With all that time invested in a product you want to sell, you’re playing Russian roulette if you haven’t researched the story’s potential first.

It took me a while to learn this, to realize this, so I’m just paying it forward. Many of you are probably nodding your head in agreement. And maybe some of you are waving a finger at me for being a creativity killer.

In any case, I’m eager to hear from both sides! Think or write? Or a hybrid of both?

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