Today's guest is Maggie Hogarth, an experienced author (as MCA Hogarth) who recently jumped into the deep end of the kidlit pool, self-publishing her first works for children. She shares her very personal story:
* * *
"I'd
like to write an adventure for Vinny the armadillo," I say to Daughter of
her new plush toy. We are in the car, driving home from her grandmother's
house. "What should I write?"
Daughter,
who is six, says with enthusiasm, "He can go to the sea! And meet a shark!
And the shark can eat him!"
"But
if a shark eats him, there won't be any more stories!" I say.
"Besides, I'd like him to learn something in these books. How not to be
eaten by sharks isn't a lesson most children need to learn."
"All
right," I say, trying to work with this. "Then what happens?"
"And
then he falls down and dies!" she finishes gleefully.
"That's
a horrible ending!" I say, and she's already giggling, so I start laughing
too. "Besides, what's the message there?"
"You
shouldn't climb up places you can't climb down from."
I
can't disagree with this, but I find myself explaining the concept of reader
expectations, and what will happen to Mommy if she writes a book for
first-graders that involves the hospitalization of armadillos after all the
appalled parents find Mommy's email address.
***
Later,
I am working on art for Vinny the
Armadillo Makes a Friend when she finds me at the kitchen table. I decide
to apply for her opinion. "Do you think I should put the unicorn on the cover,
or would that spoil the surprise?"
"I
think it would spoil the surprise," Daughter says. "Besides, if you
put a unicorn on the cover, boys won't read it."
"What?"
I say, startled into looking up from my sketchbook.
"Boys
don't like unicorns," says Daughter firmly. "They think they're too
girly."
"Even
my unicorns?" I say. "My unicorns live in swamps! They have gnarled
old horns like the roots of mangrove trees! Moss grows in their manes!"
"Boys
won't buy it. Sorry, Mommy," she tells me, and pats me on the shoulder
sympathetically before skipping off to play.
***
Of all the things I anticipated when deciding to write a
chapter book, the one thing I didn't was how much fun my daughter would have
walking through the process with me. I normally write for adults—science
fiction and fantasy novels and business nonfiction—a process that she knows
only as "Mommy stands at a computer and says she's working." For the
first time, I was able to expose the inner workings of Mommy's job to her in a
way that allowed her to participate. I was surprised at her enthusiasm during
every stage of the book's creation, even for the strange minutia, like checking
the galleys and making decisions about margin size and font choice. When I
finally handed her the Real Live Book, she was as excited as if we'd performed
magic. From the intangible discussion we'd had in the car about her new stuffed
animal, we'd created a physical object her friends could now buy from the
bookstore.
Self-publishing a chapter book was probably not the wisest
financial decision I've ever made. Selling children's fiction without
traditional publishing's conduits into school and library systems is (at this
point) a near non-starter. But getting to hear my daughter's ideas on story,
art, and marketing, and seeing the excitement in her eyes when she paged
through the final copy, was worth it. Vinny the Armadillo, and my Laundry
Dragons, might never make us more than a little grocery money, but we'll both
be able to say, one day, "We did that together."
* * *
Learn more about Maggie Hogarth on her website.
Purchase Vinny the Armadillo and the Laundry Dragons books on Amazon and Barnes & Noble.
It's so nice to hear about mother-daughter projects. Maggie's daughter gives sound advice! Self-publishing (especially kid literature) may not bring in as much dough as we like but the satisfaction is solid, and with each book, we keep learning and improving. Congratulations to Maggie on these two darling books!
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