For the last couple of weeks I’ve been reading picture books. Critiquing them, breaking them down by word/line/paragraph and picture. Those in the know say those without the know should try to read 100+ books in whatever field they wish to write for. I figure I’m about half way there.
The majority of the PBs I’ve gone through have been delightful. So much so I don’t want to give them back to the library. Writers like Mary Casanova and Robert Munsch always leave a happy, sappy grin on my face. But lord, there have been many excellent reads and I’d love to list every author.
But I won’t because then I’d have to list the ones that left me shaking my head. Some so brain-smacking dull it hurt to read them. Who published them and why? Or the few where I swear I could feel them looking down their long snooty noses at the reader. Man, there were even a couple so heavy into the dark artsy/crafty style I wanted to go wash my hands and eyes after reading them. How did they get published? How did they find a publisher daft enough to accept them?
When you compare those dodgy ones to the ones written with care and illustrated so richly you can taste the story, well, it’s just a mystery to me. And, I have to confess—I figured if I wrote a PB I’d illustrate it too. Why not?
*Let’s all snort here*
In fact, here’s a baby’s board book —go ahead smack me with it. What the heck was I thinking?
Well, now I am, and I’m striking that idea from my ‘gotta do’ list.
Sweet.
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