Every year, SCBWI members vote for children’s books, recognizing the work of writers and illustrators published the previous year. The 2024 awards have just been announced. You can take a look here.
Congratulations to everyone on the list!
Every year, SCBWI members vote for children’s books, recognizing the work of writers and illustrators published the previous year. The 2024 awards have just been announced. You can take a look here.
Congratulations to everyone on the list!
Luckily for me, I enjoy research. I like doing a quick search and seeing if I hit anything interesting on the first try. I like going down rabbit holes. And I like pulling my discoveries together into some kind of recognizable order.
All of which is a good thing. Because, as I started getting serious about agent research this month, I remembered that it is a particularly twisty-turny rabbit hole.
It’s pretty easy to find a list of picture book agents. It’s pretty easy to find an interview or a quote that tells you a tiny bit about the agent, what they like, and if/where you might connect. It’s pretty easy to start popping their names into a spreadsheet.
And it’s pretty easy to find a reason why you won’t be querying them.
I took a bit of time to set up a spreadsheet, with a tab for research and another tab to actually track queries. I know lots of people like QueryTracker, and I may go back to it when I actually start sending out queries. But I’m not very visual, so it helps me to see all the info in one place. If you decide to use a spreadsheet, obviously, you’ll set it up for the info you want to track. But I did this a little differently than the last time I was querying, so I thought I’d highlight some of the columns that I added this time around.
This is really getting into the weeds, and you may be reading it and saying, “Duh!” But I remember when I was first starting to do this, years ago, I felt like there was a lot of info floating around out there, and I wasn’t sure how to best organize it, and I kept finding info that didn’t fit into my spreadsheet. I’m feeling better about this one, even though I’m sure I’ll keep modifying it as I go.
So if you’re already set, my best wishes to you for a successful query path. If you find this helpful, I’m glad to have tossed it up here!
Even before January, I knew what my word for 2022 would be. In the midst of all the chaos, anxiety, and uncertainty of the past two years, writing has been the eye of my personal hurricane. I know, for many writers, the pandemic and their own experiences with it have made writing hard, if not impossible. As in so many other ways, I’ve been lucky. My ideas, my stories, have stayed with me, and I’ve been able to make steady progress toward my goal: to get enough picture book manuscripts to the place where I feel ready to query them. To be honest, this has been my goal for 2 or 3 years, but this is the first year I’ve felt certain enough to name it.
My word for 2022 is Query.
I’ve been musing on this for the past couple of weeks, and I’ve decided that–as part of this querying year–I would come back to my blog. Primarily for my own accountability, I want to use this space to set out the process I’m following, including some of the specific steps I’m taking, to get my work out there for agents to see. I’ll be using tags so that anyone specifically looking for this kind of conversation can find the posts, but I’m going to hold off on linking to them on social media. If I start to feel like I’m writing anything truly useful for others (and if I stick to posting at all!) then I’ll revisit that plan.
Anyway, if you’ve found your way here…

I hope you discover something to help you or, at least, to make you feel less alone on this stage of your writing journey.
To get started, here’s a summary of where I am, followed up by the next big steps I’ll be taking.
I have three picture book manuscripts “this close” to ready. I have sent them all through my excellent critique group multiple times, and I have workshopped them with other writers & a few agents. (One agent ended our conversation with “keep me posted” and agreed that, assuming I could revise the manuscript as we discussed, I should query her. Guess who I’m sending it to first!)
I will be sending these three manuscripts through my critique group one more time. I am hopeful that, even if they don’t shout, “OMG, SEND THIS OUT NOW!,” the changes I will want to make from their feedback will be minimal. I am not going to restart any of these three or make any changes that mean an entirely new revision pass. I truly believe that it is time for me to get these stories out into the query world.
What do I base that belief on? Well, all the things I’ve noted above, but there’s one other big factor: the feedback I have gotten, and my own sense of the stories, tell me that I will not be burning any bridges by send them out. They may not resonate with everyone who reads them; some agents may feel like they need more work than they’re willing to contribute. I may get no requests for more; I may get no response at all. But nobody will be putting my name onto a list of Never Read Anything from this Writer Again.
My critique group meets monthly. One of the manuscripts is in their hands for January, and I’ll send the other two to them in February and March. As I get feedback, I’ll do a pass to integrate their comments, and then each manuscript will go into the Ready pile. (Oh, yes, you can bet I’ll proofread each again before I send it out!)
While all this is going on (and I’m trying not to be buried by my day job!), I need to also be working on these steps:
Okay, so that turned into a long post, but I’ve laid out where I’m at and where I want to be going. If you’re new to my blog and want to know who I actually am, you can read a bit about me here. If you think this post or upcoming posts would help someone you know, feel free to share.
Happy New Year and Happy Querying!
My word for this year, Surf, started off as a joke on social media, when I was commenting on the challenge of picking a word for a year that seems filled with unpredictability. Once I’d tossed it out there, though, the word kept coming back to me. And the more I thought about it, the more I liked it. That very unpredictability we’re facing makes me want a word that will help me do a better job of taking things as they come, riding whatever wave I’m on at the moment, and not taking a header every time a big one hits.
Last year’s word was Happy, and I thought about taking a do-over on 2020 and using the word again for 2021. But there have been plenty of times in 2020 when I was happy and–along with that–very aware of how my happiness was in direct contrast to the lives so many other people have been living. Happy has a weight for me right now that it didn’t at the beginning of the year. It has layers that are hard to deal with, layers that–when I am tired or stressed–I’m not up to looking at directly. So, while I expect and hope for more happiness in 2021, for everyone, Happy is a word with too many tangles for me to re-choose.
2021. I am fairly certain that we will have a new President & Vice-President on January 20th, and I am fairly certain that vaccines will continue to be distributed. But beyond that, I’m not making any guesses. 2020 has been a sharp reminder of how much I need to work on staying in the moment, because the rabbit holes I could, and did, go down were more dark and twisted than any I remember. For me staying in the moment means being staying flexible and looking just far enough ahead to make choices that will help me stay balanced. So…Surf.
In her post today, Erin Dionne broke out a few areas of her life where she wants to direct her word (Invest). I liked that a lot, so I’m stealing her idea for my post. In 2021, here are some of the waves I want to ride:
News and Politics
The past four years, I’ve been more aware and more involved than ever before. And, for all the stress, this has been a very good thing for me. It’s important to me that I don’t drop this engagement. I have all my fingers and toes crossed that Georgia will elect Warnock and Ossoff to the Senate but, even if they win, it’s going to be a hard, hard road. I want and need to stay on top of things, to step up whenever I can, to speak out and be heard. But this is also the wave that, more than any other, challenged me in 2020. I may not be able to hang 10 on this one, but I think I can keep from being bonked in the head with my own board.
Family and Friends
I have been incredibly lucky–my family and friends are staying healthy, and they’re staying financially stable. It has been hard not seeing them in person, but I am grateful that they are all taking this pandemic seriously and doing their very best to be safe. With the vaccines out there, I can feel my hopes rising–I’ll be able to visit my parents and sisters in 2021! And I can feel the hopes dip–maybe I will, maybe I won’t. We have Zoom, we have telephones. If/when the numbers decrease, I may feel comfortable doing socially distanced walks with a few friends. But this is a wave like no wave I’ve ever been on, and I need to ride it gently.
Writing
I know so many writers who have struggled with getting writing done this year. For me, after the first few months, my writing became the gentle wave that felt almost like standing on the sand. It gave me something to escape into, to spark my mind, and to feel hope about. I came up with ideas and stories that are stronger, in their foundations, than anything I’ve written before–it is so reassuring to know that I am actually learning and strengthening my craft. I’m staring 2021 off by paddling my writing board out to the bigger waves. Tomorrow is Day 1 of Storystorm, I’ll be signing up for my first year of 12 X 12, and I’m starting a multi-week picture book workshop in a couple of weeks. It’s going to be a windy ride, but it’s also a wave that, if I wipe out, I’ll know I’ll land in warm water and easily climb back on my board.
Health
I was going pretty well with keeping up my yoga practice for most of 2020 (thanks in good part to Adriene), but–as usual–I’ve slipped a bit over the holidays. I learned long ago that if I tell myself I have to do any physical exercise on certain days at certain times, my brain basically says, “No, I don’t,” and the surfboard just stays in the closet. I am aiming for 2 or 3 days of yoga, more days of simple things like push-ups and squats, and as close to daily meditation as I can get. But each day will be a choice, based on how I feel and what sounds best.
I had a mini-scare a few months ago when I did some routine lab work and my sugar numbers came back too high. I found a dietician who I click with. She’s knocked me out of the certainty that I have to eat fewer and fewer calories to be “healthy.” She’s gotten me to add a LOT of fiber to my daily eating (now’s the time to buy stock in beans, folks!). She’s checking my progress with BMI (pinches, not math formula), and I’m not getting near a scale. I’m finding that each meal is its own wave–one on which I make food choices that feel right at that moment, rather than deciding ahead of time that I have to eat this way or that. So far, the results have been good, and I haven’t felt deprived once. I am determined to stay on this board.
My life has been a progress from holding tight to what “should” be happening to learning to loosen my grip and face changes as they came. I am freer and more relaxed now than I ever was as a teen or young adult. 2021 seems the right year to take that progress a step further, ease up even more on the control, and respond to each wave as it comes.
I wish you all the happiest of New Years, and share my hope that 2021 will be a year of release and relief.
I’ve got my notebook and am ready to go!

Storystorm 2020 was one of the good things, for me, in a crazy year. I developed two of the ideas I came up with, and the manuscripts are at the top of my getting-ready-to-query pile. They are two of the ideas that felt most out-there when I had them, but that also brought with them a feeling of sparkly magic.
I’m going for more magic this year. I have all sorts of expectations and hopes for our world in this next year, and Storystorm 2021 is going to be a wonderful way to kick it off. I’m grateful to Tara Lazar for keeping this event rolling along.
Who’s with me? You can sign up here at Tara’s website.
I don’t keep a gratitude journal or do any other kind of gratitude process. But 2020 has been…a lot, and it feels right to put down some of the things I have felt grateful so many times during the past year.
I am grateful that my family is healthy, that we have the capacity and fortune to weather this storm, that we are able to do all the things that will help most to keep us safe. I am grateful that my husband and I, after having spent almost eight months sheltering in place together, can see that our love and partnership holds true even in this kind of craziness. (It bodes pretty well for that someday retirement!)
I am grateful for my friends, the ones who live near me and make up my small, critical circle of support, and those I know in a virtual space. I am grateful for the people at my day job, some of the most committed, focused, and unbeatable people I have ever worked with. I am grateful for kidlit writers, for their faith that writing children’s books is an important act of resistance, kindness. and power. I hear their voices every time I wonder if the words I write will ever matter. I am grateful that writing has been a refuge for me in the past four years, and that I have been able to keep putting those words down on paper. I am grateful for my critique group partners, who are always there to push me to make those words better.
I am grateful for every single person who has done anything in the past four years to fight against the horrors of the current administration. I am grateful to everyone who voted, worked to increase voter registration, or spent time and energy encouraging other people to vote. I am grateful for Stacey Abrams and Fair Fight and all the other nonprofits and individuals in the same space, whose names I don’t know. I am grateful to every voter who looked at Joe Biden and Kamala Harris, saw the flaws, dealt with their own disappointment or grief or anger, and recognized the need to vote for these candidates no matter what.
I am grateful for my health. I am so grateful for my health. I’m grateful for the scientists who, despite an incredible lack of support, keep fighting to understand COVID-19 better, to learn how we can reduce the number of deaths, the number of hospitalizations, the severity of the symptoms. I am beyond grateful for the healthcare workers who put their own health and safety on the line every day, who care for every patient–even those who don’t believe in this disease and don’t believe in the help the healthcare workers are giving them. I am grateful for the researchers who are working to develop safe vaccines, and I am grateful to the people who are volunteering to test these vaccines…how do you even say thank you for something like that?
I am grateful for grocery staff, postal workers, librarians, gas-station attendants, booksellers–all the people who make it possible for me to live my life as safely and effortlessly as possible. To sit here and type these words into a blog post and understand, yet again, just how lucky I am.
Post Image by Ka Young Seo from Pixabay
Okay, sometimes life is like being inside a snow globe. It’s an odd metaphor for a summer, but it’s a summer where things have been shaken up, settled briefly, then shaken up again. In July, we “hosted” my husband’s kidney stone about three weeks. (Go get a big glass of water. Right now. I’ll wait.) Then the heat wave hit, and now California is basically one big firestorm. I’ve been able to get things done at work and make some decent progress on a writing project, but concentration and focus haven’t been my friends for a while now.
When my snow is “settled,” I’m good with having a lot of writing projects up in the air. I can shift back and forth, letting one simmer while I move forward on another. When the snow is whirling, though, having that many first drafts and revisions in my head is like being in a blizzard. (Not that I’ve ever been in a blizzard.)
This morning, after I checked the news on the fires, I took a few minutes to sit and breathe (the smoke has been better at our house for a couple of days!). The wind in my head quieted down a bit, and my mind wandered over to my current writing projects: a new picture book idea I’m excited about, three revisions I have some good thoughts on, and whatever continued writing I want to do on my chapter book wip after the Highlights workshop at the end of this month.
Needless to say, the thought of all those projects waiting for me kicked up the wind, and my mind was back in the snowstorm. I reminded myself that, at times like this, it’s good for me to step back into a sheltered place, line up my goals neatly by the fire, and make some decisions about what comes next, then next after that, and then next again. A row of “nexts” is much better than a swirl of “NOW!”
I put my row in this order:
Believe me, I’m perfectly aware that this list is my brain’s attempt to glue my snow globe to a shelf and keep anything else from shaking it up, and I’m even more aware that actuality is out of my control. But I’m looking at my plan as being like a snow shovel. If I don’t pick it up and do some clearing while I can, I’m never going to be able to get my car out of the driveway. (Not that I’ve ever held a snow shovel.)
How are you handling the chaos these days? Feel free to share any tricks and tips in a comment!
I added Lesa Cline-Ransome’s and James E. Ransome’s Game Changers: The Story of Venus and Serena Williams to my first bookstore orders of pb biographies, and I am so glad I did.

Picture book biographies of one person require the author to wander through mounds of research, sort out big stories and little stories, delve into personality, and find a way in that will engage a young reader and keep them engaged. And that’s true when you’re writing a biography of one person. I think the most amazing thing about Game Changers is the way Lesa Cline-Ransome weaves the complexities and layers of two amazing women into the book. She never drops down into over-simplification, but somehow integrates every element seamlessly into the forward-moving story.
If I had to say, in a few words, what this book is about, I’d say it’s about the love of Venus and Serena for the sport of tennis and the love Venus and Serena have for each other. Not only does Cline-Ransome achieve absolute balance between the two threads, but she manages to capture what I imagine is a truth of the Williams’ lives.
Serena and Venus Williams have shown their absolute commitment to playing their best possible game of tennis every time they step on a court. Simultaneously, each is dedicated to being their sister’s best friend and strongest supporter, even when they are standing on opposite sites of the net.
Cline-Ransome achieves the book’s balance by a sort of “take-turn” structure that, I think, intentionally mirrors the pace of two players warming up before a match. She spends a few words, a page or two, focusing in tightly on the tennis thread–the hard work that started when the women were young children, the determination with which they put in hour after hour on the court. Then she shifts to the way the sisters were constantly together, excluding their individual names from many pages and using instead the plural they. And throughout the book, she touches lightly but firmly on pieces of their story that are not easy and, often, not complimentary to the world of tennis.
The story builds with the women’s success, to a climax of three matches they played in 1998, 2000, and 2002. Venus beats Serena in the first match at the Australian open. They play doubles together in the 2000 Olympics and walked off the court with two gold medals. And in 2002, Serena beats Venus at the French open. Reading the pages feels like you’re in the stands, watching a three-set match, if an imaginary match in which the second set ends in deuce. A match where Cline-Ransome’s “ball” goes back and forth between the two woman as smoothly as one of their rallies.
Yes, I, too, can occasionally resort to sport metaphors.
At the very end (spoiler alert), Cline-Ransome brings the two loves–the loves of sport and sister–together in three incredible paragraphs.
…Venus served big for the second set and took the lead, but Serena broke serve and won. The second set was hard fought, and the sisters rallied with down-the-line combinations, skidding from sideline to baseline until the final match point, when Venus cracked the ball into the net and the moment belonged to Serena. In two sets of 7-5 and 6-3, a victorious Serena stepped out of the shadow of her sister.
Turn the page…
Venus ran off the court as the curious eyes of the crowd followed her. High into the stands Venus sprinted, snatched up her bag, and pulled out a camera.
“Nothing can keep me from celebrating when my best friend wins a match,” Venus said proudly.
I closed this book with a sigh of utter satisfaction.
A note about the illustrations: I wish I knew enough to describe what
James E. Ransome has done with his art. Every page shines with beauty and energy and emotion. It’s hard for me to choose a favorite, but this one stunned me when I first saw it and continues to draw me back to look at it again and again.


I’ve been saying for a long time that, someday, I want to write picture book biographies. In a recent Duh! moment, I realized that isn’t going to happen until and unless I get serious about reading and dissecting them. So I’m starting a new series on my blog featuring picture book biographies and my thoughts about why and how they work. I’m starting the series with a book I love and that happens to be very handy, sitting right there on one of my picture book shelves. That book is Evelyn the Adventurous Entomologist: The True Story of a World-Traveling Bug Hunter, written by Christine Evans and illustrated by Yasmin Imamura.
Full disclosure, I met Christine at an SCBWI event and picked up her book to browse through it. I was already loving it when I came to these words,
Many years later, Evelyn applied to veterinary college. She longed to help sick animals.
And the next page:
However, it was the early 1900s. Women couldn’t vote. They rarely went to college. And they certainly weren’t allowed to be vets.
Then and there, I bought two copies–one for me and one for my mom. My mom also wanted to go to vet school and, in the 1950s, but was told by a school counselor that might not be possible. But vet schools had just started to admit women. My mom knew it wouldn’t be easy. But she “went anyway.”
Fifty years earlier, Evelyn Cheesman wasn’t able to vet school. But many, many other times she was told she couldn’t go somewhere, but–in a lovely repetition of phrase in Evans’ book–“…Evelyn went anyway.”
One of the things I love about this book is the way Evans doesn’t try to force the facts or her language. She uses “Evelyn went anyway” when it’s accurate–when Evelyn did go. In places where Evelyn was unable to pursue a specific dream, Evans shows us the other ways in which Evelyn persisted, pushed forward. In the book, Evelyn says yes to every opportunity and, when one isn’t presenting itself, she makes her own. She dives into everything she tries, making it her own with creativity, hard work, and–I think–a love of being in charge of her own world. By making clear the many bumps in Evelyn’s path, Evans shows us beautifully the ways in which Evelyn got past those bumps–sometimes walking around, sometimes climbing (literally), and sometimes pivoting in a new direction. But she never once stops moving forward.
Evans also does a fantastic job of weaving in the perfect amount of information about the time in which Evelyn lived. The focus is always on Evelyn–the things she chooses to do, the adventures she takes, the way she seems (to me) to always be on the lookout for something new she can learn, something new she can explore. But mixed into Evelyn’s story are bite-sized tidbits about Evelyn’s world. We don’t need this context to know that Evelyn was special, but the contrast of her actions with what she was supposed to do, allowed to do, highlights the power of her personality and the strength of her commitment to herself and her dreams.
A note about the illustrations: I really love the art in the book. The colors are all earth tones, evoking Evelyn’s love of the outdoors. Evelyn’s energy, focus, and action are brought out in every illustration of her. And somehow, as we see Evelyn across various ages, she is always Evelyn. Beautiful.
I would give this book to any child as an introduction to picture book biographies, but most especially to a child who sees the world in a slightly different way than those around them or to a child who needs to know that stubbornness can be a strength. I would also, of course, give this book to anyone (child or adult) who loves bugs.

Still here, still in a place of luck and gratitude, still on a rollercoaster of anger and grief, still stepping into the chaos, and still pulling back when I need self-care.
And still striving to add new things to make daily life feel like it includes change and some kind of forward progress. In June, I made my first batch of (delicious) gluten-free scones AND a batch of gluten-free bread that actually worked for sandwiches. Next up: more scones, hamburger buns, and then I think it’s a toss-up between soft pretzels and donut muffins. Writing-wise, I decided I needed some possibility in my life, so I submitted two applications to Justin Colón’s #pbchat mentorship program. Announcements come at the end of the month–crossed fingers are appreciated!
And then July. With all the sheltering in place, virtual opportunities have been popping up everywhere I look. And I decided it was time to take advantage of that. So I signed up for my first Highlights workshop: Developing a Series in Chapter Books, with Debbi Michiko Florence and Kashmira Sheth.
Did I have a chapter book manuscript? Nope. Outline? Nope. Idea? Well, yes, but when I went back to look at it, I fell instantly out of like with it. So I came up with another idea for which I felt a much stronger affection. And with nothing but that idea, I registered. Which pretty much tells you how much I need an adventure right now, how much I need a shot of adrenaline that isn’t riding along on a wave of fear or hate or anger.
And the adrenaline worked. I’ve been reading piles of mentor texts.

The idea has stretched into a character, a problem, and a world. I’ve gone a few rounds with an outline. And I still have six weeks to draft a first chapter. As with everything, I have no idea where this will lead, whether I’ll end up with a first draft, whether I’ll work through any revisions.
Whether I’ll end up with anything I would want to show an agent.
But right now my brain is craving change. It wants some hours and days that feel different than all the others. It wants to learn. And, this summer, that means giving myself a Highlights retreat right here at home.