Congratulations! You’ve just sold your first picture book text. You are very excited and all set to choose your illustrator.
I’m here to tell you: that’s not how it works.
Choosing an illustrator for a picture book text is the job of your editor. If you read your contract (and you should read your contract!) you will most likely see a clause that says you will be “consulted” on this decision. The reason I put the word consulted in quotation marks (air quotes if you will) is because in my experience, “consulted” has meant everything from “Tell us a few illustrators you admire and we’ll consider them,” to “Here are three illustrators we are thinking about—who do you like best?” to “We’ve signed this illustrator, we hope you like her.”
Many new picture book writers are dismayed to hear this. Though creating a picture book is a collaborative effort, the author rarely (read: almost never) works directly with the illustrator. The author works with their editor to revise the text into the most stunning story possible. Then the illustrator receives the text and works with the editor and art director and book designer to create the most stunning illustrations possible. The writer and the illustrator do not communicate directly.
It is a great lesson in letting go.
While this may be disappointing, I encourage you to remember that everyone working on the project—the writer, the illustrator, the editor, the art director, the copyeditor, and the book designer—all want the same thing: to create a fantastic picture book that is both a beautiful work of art and a smashing commercial success. Think of it like a movie. The screenwriter thinks, “This is my movie.” The star thinks, “This is my movie.” The director thinks, “This is my movie.” The film editor thinks, “This is my movie.” Everyone who has a hand in the project wants to put their stamp on it.
I often imagine what would happen if the roles were reversed: If I was presented with thirty-two illustrations and told to write a story to go along with them, I wouldn’t want the artist hovering over my shoulder saying, “That’s not what I had in mind.” Or “Do it this way.” I would want to be given creative freedom. Which is what is given to the illustrator, whose job it is to amplify the writer’s words with visual storytelling.
You do get a chance to give the illustrator feedback along the way. At some point, your editor will show you sketches and ask for comments. This is the time to speak up if you see something problematic. And later on, you will get to see art that is close to finished and have one last chance to give feedback.
There have been times when my feedback has been listened to, and times when I have had to compromise. Here are two examples from my book, Gittel’s Journey: An Ellis Island Story, which was illustrated by the incredibly talented Amy June Bates and published by Abrams Books for Young Readers.
In the book, Gittel, who, along with her mother is immigrating to America in search of a better life, has to leave her beloved goat Frieda behind. Originally, the text read: “Gittel gave the little brown goat one last pat on the head and then turned away.” When I received the artwork, I was quite surprised to see that Frieda the goat was white! When I pointed this out to my editor, he questioned the illustrator, who had decided that a white goat looked better visually because the rest of the illustration had a lot of brown in it. Now, I could have dug in my heels. But there was no real reason that the goat had to be brown. And it was far easier to change one word of text than it was for the illustrator to redo her painting. And so the text was changed to match the illustration.
Later on in the book, there was another discrepancy. Gittel, who it turns out traveled alone to America, is now at Ellis Island. An interpreter takes her under his wing and comforts her while trying to figure out how to find her relatives who have already settled in New York. The text reads: “When Gittel grew hungry, the interpreter gave her a bowl of soup. And when Gittel grew bored, the interpreter whisked the immigration officer’s cap off his head and placed it on Gittel’s with a laugh.” The illustrator made a mistake, and her original illustration showed the interpreter whisking a hat off his own head instead of whisking a hat off the immigration officer’s head. The immigration officer has been grumpy and abrupt from the minute he appeared in the story. It was important to show the interpreter playing a joke on him. So that illustration had to be changed. And it was.
I know your next question: have you ever been disappointed with your illustrations? Most of the time I have been thrilled with my illustrations which, more often than not, have exceeded my expectations. Though I have to be honest. There have been a few times when I haven’t been pleased. Out of forty-two picture books, I have been disappointed exactly twice. And it wasn’t that the illustrations were bad; they were just not to my taste. But I trusted my editors, both of whom had a specific vision for the project they had acquired. And those particular books—and no, I won’t tell you which ones they are—have done extremely well and are very beloved by children. And over time, the illustrations have grown on me.
The best advice I can give you as you embark on your picture book journey is to keep an open mind. Let go of your expectations and let your editor and illustrator do their jobs. Oh, and there is one instance when you can and should reach out to your illustrator. When the book is finally printed and you hold your first copy in your hands, let the illustrator know how much you appreciate all the time, effort, care, and heart they put into their illustrations. And then get busy on your next project.
Lesléa Newman has created eighty-five books for readers of all ages, including her latest picture book, Joyful Song: A Naming Story. Her book, Gittel’s Journey: An Ellis Island Story received the National Jewish Book Award, the Sydney Taylor Silver Medal, and the Christopher Award, and was named a Wall Street Journal Top Ten Children’s Book of the Year.
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