For clarity this imaged was produced by mistake when i was wondering what Ai can do. It will stay up until I have space to make my own.
For clarity this imaged was produced by mistake when i was wondering what Ai can do. It will stay up until I have space to make my own.
First the inspiration - my cat lying belly up and stretching across my star themed duvet cover (Creature), the beauty of light through a crystal (Little Diamond Dogs), a hope that all children get a chance to feel heard (I Am Giant).
Then - does the idea have enough strength to hold my added wishes and still stay engaging?
Then - it (normally naturally) develops a secret message from the below list.
My stories serve as a bridge between the hidden emotional landscape and the world we live in.
1. Universal Inclusion (The "Baseline")
Neutrality of Identity: I try not to make gender or specific labels the focus; instead, the stories celebrate the universal human experience of identity. I want my books, where possible, to be read by everyone—especially the child discovering they don’t feel they fit into any specific gender. Everyone is allowed five minutes off from the heavier issues in life.
Integrated Narratives: I create stories for neurodivergent, trans, and gender-nonconforming children that don't isolate them, but instead offer a space where they naturally belong alongside all other children. Ultimately, I am writing about the inner human spirit; anything beyond that is for the reader to add, or has no relevance at all.
2. Externalizing the Internal (The "Visual Metaphor")
The Hidden Landscape: I didn’t grow up with the daily "therapy-speak" that’s so common today; my parents and I have had to learn these things as we’ve gone along. Every child—and every adult—carries a complex emotional landscape that is often invisible to others. That is important stuff to acknowledge if we plan to get to the end of our lives with a collection of good memories.
Visualizing the Unspoken: We all have those moments—the things we see but let pass because we don’t have the words, or the "I have this feeling, I’ll ignore it and maybe it will go away" instinct. I use art and aesthetic contrasts (like Lino-print vs. Woodblock) to give physical form to these internal feelings, providing children with a visual vocabulary for the outsider, internal, or family experiences they may not yet have words for.
3. Transformative Empathy (The "Conflict Resolution")
Dismantling Bullying: I show that bullying often stems from a deep-seated fear of difference, a need to feel powerful, or a desire to be liked, rather than simple cruelty. While it is always cruel for the person receiving it, I believe all pain inflicted on another has its roots in personal suffering.
Conversion Over Confrontation: My stories are placed in emotional scenes of difficulty. For example, Little Diamond Dogs is, on the surface, a playful look at the "Sun Dog" phenomenon, made mythological through history. But it also speaks to families with an anxious parent whose fear feels like it is taking over. By not deliberately labeling that fear as "bad," I offer the angle that merging the playful and fun with the cautious and careful is a more realistic, gentle way to go about things.
Authenticity as Armor: My stories demonstrate how vulnerability, joy, and "fabulous" authenticity can disarm fear and transform a hostile environment into a welcoming one. As someone who is neurodivergent—raising neurodivergent kids—I know these themes run through childhood. They may be more severe for some, but they have their roots in universal needs: companionship, acceptance, and anxiety. I write for the memory of younger kids, and while a neurodivergent experience is undeniably tougher, it is not totally alien to a "normal" childhood.
4. Co-Creation & Participation (The "Engagement")
Active Authorship: I deliberately treat children as intelligent partners. By building in participation—like shout-alongs or "vibe choices"—I invite them to co-author their own emotional experience. Traditional learning isn't for everyone, so I enjoy using real-world science or the laws of physics. Real education happens in inspiration, not stagnancy. I don't shy away from the odd challenging word or concept; curiosity is worth its weight in gold.
The Power of Togetherness: Connection is built through the act of doing—shouting, choosing, imagining—rather than just being told what to think. Loneliness isn't just "how many friends have I got?" It is the reality of living through unfair trauma: being in the room but not a part of it, playing the part, but never feeling it. In my opinion, a feeling of emotional safety is the bedrock of easy learning.
The Space Between: I write for the 'new people' on this earth who, by virtue of being children do not know some stuff yet. I assume they need to know things, and things well there are so many. Being 'feeling' beings is complex—everyone has a moment of existing in the space between fitting in and feeling on the outside again. My stories provide a sanctuary, a place where feeling seen, validated, and ultimately, accepted feels more like "oh yeah" than "am I weird?"
THEN- Is the story beautiful? What images can carry this tale and add that special magic only they can.
Finally the ultimate reality test - can I break the story down to fit a publishers preferred format - Does the story have 'enough' about it to withstand (often merciless and market driven) edits.
IF the story can keep its magic or hold a lot of its original after that...
I wonder... does this little story have legs? Is it fun or is it just a set of beliefs dress up in the words of a picture book now. Honestly bin it if it is because my friend thats boring dressed up in nice pictures.
There are many things a savvy writer 'should' consider when coming up with an idea for a book. Among them, literary market trends and the marketability of your story to your average punter. The flow, the bounce, the hook. Are you lecturing or inspiring? (personal irritation) But I believe that everyone has a different flavor (thankfully, man-eating giants do not exist). Without boring everyone to tears with my "sob story," I can promise that all my challenges now inform my work.
My Buddhist experience not only gives me big visual help—seeing the world through the eyes of a perfect Buddha or imagining every atom in the universe is a beautiful flower I could give to Buddha—but my time as a nun has made me sincerely wish that nobody has to experience suffering of any kind. It really helped me see that we all suffer with our unhelpful feelings and thoughts.
Knowing this is a very strong trait in me, and then adding my experience as a neurodivergent mother of two extremely bright and talented school-refusing autistic kids, I am living now clearly in a world where one of my overriding feelings is: "Shall we all just have the day off and worry tomorrow?" So, I personally think that the five minutes you manage to take out of the daily humdrum should be a break, a ride into the imagination, a moment to feel recognized. It should not feel like another parent chore before you can finally rest.
I think it is important to remember, as the shadow dogs of imposter syndrome invade your confidence, that: So what? Does my story have legs? I think so, given the information I have. So say, "Back, you shadow hounds! OK. Not everyone will like my story, but if I do not try and they do, I might be letting the world miss out on their five minutes off." And to the shadow dogs growling that, "no one will take you seriously," I stand up, metaphorically put my hands on my hips, and say: So what?
As I like to ram home as much as possible in everything I do: how we see things is how we feel about them. We see the picture book world as unobtainable; guess what? It is. NEVER listen to the "What, you?" people! Ask yourself: have they published a book in the specific genre and format I am drawn to? If the answer is that their only experience is being a nurse, or a circus clown, or an I.T. professional, the truth is they are just guessing. They don't actually know.
Think about Chris Ofili, the British painter, walking up to me on a random street before he was famous and saying, "Andrea, shall I put elephant poo in my paintings?" And I say, "Well, are these paintings meant to be seen in art galleries and be paintings of big nobs?" And he says, "Yes." So I then say, "Well, personally mate, I would drop the poo." Do I know anything about the realities of being a respected painter? NOPE. Luckily, that conversation only happened in my head!
The hard facts are that if you are not hitting—or could be made to hit—a profit, the offer will not come. This is a real world with real bills to pay. But the mind that tells you "don't bother" is also the mind that actually doesn't know where your work sits in the market. That mind could be wrong!
I have to live with ADHD; my middle name should be "Whoops, that error was not there when I looked before." The reality is I can spend weeks perfecting a pitch (and I have) that I’ve worked on for months, and still manage to send a previous version that is riddled with mistakes. But I KNOW if you can just bear with me through these utterly baffling moments, I can take you off into other worlds... in my imagination, I care very much if I put a comma in the right place or if my computer swapped something around without telling me. But I just cannot do anything about it. I have tried everything.
When I was an ordained nun, I spent a long time developing a simple and modern-looking series of picture books—hoping to make the things I see as 'useful' about Buddhism accessible for our tech-driven kids. I personally found the over-stylized, often distance-creating style favored in Buddhist publishing just felt 'too much.' I was surrounded by kids who wanted to know: "Why does my mum or dad like this painting of a Buddha so much?"
So, I picked a few themes I thought most kids would relate to, like monsters under the bed (fear), losing a pet, etc. Buddhism has a Buddha for every circumstance. You are confused and scared? Say Tara’s mantra; Tara is the Buddha of quick wisdom. You’ve lost a pet and want to make sure it is off to a better place? Say Amitayus’s mantra; he is a gentle Buddha (light body compared to sunset), a healing Buddha... ask him to look after your pet. I figured I would keep away from the 'miracles' vibe and show the kids how to use the Buddhas to get them through a hard time.
If I personally create all the illustrations for my books, (side note - that does not mean they will stay in till the pulished book. If an editor thinks they have a more appropriate artist I am good with that. Do you have any idea how many utterly amazing illustrators there are out there?) the whole process challenges my ADHD mind. I often find myself battling the "mind-fog" that inevitably descends whenever I encounter terms like "layout," "reversed printing," or "formatting." Despite these hurdles, my vision drives me forward. I can't tell you the frustration. I am lucky I had a sargent major for a father, we do not ever give up!
After years of dedicated work, I approached a Buddhist publishing house with one of my creations. While they appreciated the core idea, they ultimately deemed it "too risky"—a decision for which no further explanation was provided.
Yet, for my friend's son, Isaac, that very story was anything but risky. It became a useful tool that helped him navigate the common childhood fear of monsters under the bed, enabling him to sleep soundly at night. It was a bridge to the ancient wisdom and helped him see Buddhism as relevant to his daily life. He had a way to feel safe, to feel empowered rather than a victim of scary feelings. He knew who buddha Tara was to HIM. Needless to say, he became one of its biggest fans.
This experience solidified my conviction that stories, born from a place of deep understanding, have the power to equip children with invaluable emotional tools, even when the mainstream might deem them "risky." It's this belief that fuels every stroke of my pen and every word I write.
I could feel defeated, but I do not. All the children who had those books read to them loved them. I know that, on the ground floor, kids really appreciated the simple clues about what their parents were doing; it explained Buddhist faith, mantras, and emotional loyalty. For the children from every background imaginable who read those stories, the only response was delight. And I helped one tiny person understand his mum and work out what Buddhism actually was—a way to protect his mind from the things that were scaring him at that point in his life. OK, it wasn’t mass-marketed and blah, blah, blah. Isaac just wanted to feel safe; he felt safe. The book did its job for the people whose lives it managed to touch. How is that a failure? I think it was, in Isaac's case, a fantastic success.
Our children need our stories, our wisdom, our humor. If you feel you have some talent in there, go and find out if people can make money from it. You just never stop creating and being your beautiful, unique voice because a publishing house has decided they are focusing on dogs for a quarter and your story is awesome, but it happens to be about a cat.
CREATE! The kids around you, they are audience enough. And to risk sounding corny, if your story made one child’s eyes sparkle, I promise it has done its job anything else is truly a bonus.
These images were created before the wonders of the smooth I pad drawing I cherish now. They were basically painstakingly put together with coloured shapes. In a computer a richer person would have thrown out the window!