writerjenn

No, I'm not talking about getting tattoos . . . 

One fact that often shocks beginning children’s-book writers is the amount of influence the writer has over a book’s artwork.  Because that amount can usually be described as “tiny, if any.”  An author and illustrator of the same book might never even talk.  I sometimes see writers becoming distressed over this idea.  “Can’t I put directions to the artist on the manuscript?” they will ask during the Q&A at writers’ conferences.  “Can’t I choose my own artist?”

This may be hardest on those who write picture books, because the artwork is such an integral part of a picture book.  And I suppose this is especially difficult for writers who have talent in the visual arts themselves, writers who might even toy with the idea of being author-illustrators.  Fortunately, I am not burdened by visual-arts talent myself!

At least three of my published stories have had accompanying illustrations.  (In a fourth case, the magazine’s cover perfectly represented my story, but since it was a theme issue, I was unable to determine if the illustration had been done specifically for my story, or if there was just some magical accident of synergy.)  I never met or even talked to any of the illustrators.  None of the editors told me there would be illustrations, nor did they ask for my input.  In my opinion, those illustrations range from good to wonderful. 

In the “wonderful” category, I’m thinking of a story I wrote called “Feed the City,” in which the two main characters are grappling with a complicated attraction to each other.  Most of the story takes place in a dysfunctional truck, as they drive around collecting food for a charity called “Feed the City.”  The illustrator, J. Buster Holiday, used a photograph of an old truck, with a logo for Feed the City affixed to the door.  I had not described the truck in much detail, except to list its mechanical ailments, but the artist found the exact truck I had pictured.  I had not described a logo for the charity or even thought about a logo; that was purely the artist’s invention. 

To me, there’s something exciting about seeing my ideas represented in a whole new medium, through fresh eyes.  The truck was an important “character” in the story, but I never would have thought of using it in an illustration, since I was focused on the human characters.  Yet here was someone picking that truck out of all the elements in the story, and realizing its significance.  Here was someone creating a logo for an organization that had sprung from my imagination!

Had I been directing the artists who illustrated my stories, I never would have come up with the pictures that they did, but their pictures worked and worked well.  They caught the spirit of the stories in ways I never would have imagined.  That’s the key: in ways I never would have imagined.  Letting go and trusting another artist with our stories is a risk.  Have I heard some writers say they disliked their illustrations or hated their book covers?  Yes, it happens.  But so many times, the risk pays off when someone takes an idea to a place we didn’t envision.  After all, that’s what happens with our stories: once they’re out there in the world, we have no control over how readers interpret them.