This year, the "Valentiny" contest challenge is to write a children's Valentine's story in 214 words or less, in which someone feels curious!
     Here's my 204-word entry--"What Do You Love?"
     Thank you, Susanna Leonard Hill, for offering this fun challenge. I LOVE my little story and am glad this contest inspired it.
     p.s. My debut book comes out on April 7. Check it out here!

Illustrator Robin Rosenthal packs her characters with style, personality, color, humor, and a touch of irony. There's no shortage of visual details for young readers to pour over, and they'll love finding the deadpan cat on the margins of every scene.

With crisp, active rhymes and plot-twisting surprises, author Gabi Snyder has created a canine-counting playground! Little ones learning to read and count will want to pick this book up over and over, to experience the mayhem again--and have fun with words and numbers.

     All month long I've been stewing and brewing a tiny poem potion in my cauldron, and now it's ready to be served.
     The challenge? Write a 100-word (or less) children's Halloween story including these three key words--potion, cobweb, and trick.
     The sponsor? As always, the clever, generous, and talented Susanna Leonard Hill, who hosts this annual contest on her blog.
     The result? A rhyming story that was SO much fun to write!
     Thanks, Susanna, for the opportunity to participate. And good luck to my fellow contestants.

Adelaide sWitches Careers
 
Adelaide Witch isn’t partial to scaring.
She prefers generous giving and sharing.
Adelaide vows, “I will ditch evil potions,
conjuring up only happy emotions.
This Halloween, I will brew a new mission.
I’ll switch careers and become—a magician!”
 
First, the kids tremble, afraid of her show.
“Help us!” they yelp as they watch her wand glow.
Then—“Hocus-pocus!”—from down in the tip
of her hat, a white rabbit appears in her grip.
“More!” cry the children. She pulls from her glove
a cobweb that flies, turning into a dove.
 
That’s how one witch
traded tricks in
for love.

     llustrator T.L. McBeth scales way, way back, creating an almost entirely character-based book that focuses on feelings and reactions rather than setting and scenery. The pops of color and texture among white backgrounds and bold black lines are provided by photographic images of little knit sweaters (or dresses, or sweater-dresses)--to great effect.
     Cleverly conceived and charmingly executed, this book pairs well with Neither, by Airlie Anderson. And in a world of shorter and shorter picture books, Ogilvy has just a bit more content, plus a fun rhyming structure and strong story construction, which makes me want to recommended it for multiple readings on home bookshelves.

   Picture book writers, take note. This is how an artist can take emotional moments and run with them. When you understate the text in the peak emotional moments of your story, you do yourself, your reader, and your illustrator a favor. If you pick up a copy of this book, just look at Jamie's facial expressions. Seeing how she feels is far better than being told. When we see how she feels, we feel it too. A picture pulls the reader in.
   The story is 158 words, people. 158 words!
   Here's a great interview with Matt Myers  and a brilliant quote--"A picture book is not called a word book, after all.  If you love language, show your love by making a few words feel special. Let the pictures write a line for you."
   This is Myers' debut as both author and illustrator, and he does a superior job at both. Hum and Swish is a great mentor text for those of us who only write.
   With art that's both playful and rich in feeling, Hum and Swish turns a simple scene of a girl playing in the sand into a portrait of an artist that says something profound about creativity, childhood, and living in the moment.
   Oh, and it's from Neal Porter's new imprint at Holiday House so...no wonder it's good.

   Short, clear, lyrical sentences with easily digestible information are just right for young readers. The  lyrical and figurative language in Flying Deep made this story feel like a literal, visceral journey. I love it as a read-aloud!

     The book makes superb use of lyrical language, which I’m currently looking out for because I’m taking a fantastic class on lyrical language with Dianne White, through the Writing Barn. The text is evocative, contemplative, active and sensory, and a pleasure to read over again. And it’s open-ended, so it’s easy to insert yourself into the story.   
     Alison Hughes’ figurative language is delightful. Ninon Pelletier’s visual personifications of the Silence, the Noise, and the Dark are fabulously effective!
     Perhaps best of all, I was pleasantly surprised by the subtle and seamless way the author introduces the concept of meditation into the story.
     This is a beautiful book in every way, and I recommend it highly.

     Lendler has really pulled off a challenge here--encapsulating, well, basically everything that ever existed on Earth, in a simple and compelling text. This book is a page-turner, with one event triggering the next, and driving the reader toward new discoveries. The language is little-kid friendly (for example, a mammal is called a "little fur-thing"), and the narrative voice feels more like a caring parent than a science instructor. After all, it's nice to feel a little warmth when being told that at one time nearly everything on the planet was destroyed by a plummeting asteroid.
     The whole evolutionary shebang is further enhanced by highly appealing and accessible art from Eisner Award-winning team Shelli Paroline and Braden Lamb. The muted color palate--a soft gray punctuated with warm blends of red, blue, yellow, and green of undefinable  hue--feels both solid and soothing. The figures are highly graphic in design, and pop off the page. Yet nothing looks computer generated. You can see the ink skipping across the paper fibers. If this isn't hand-drawn, it sure looks like it. Despite the figures' simplicity, a sense of enormous empathy goes out to our two main characters (if the book has any)--the "little fur-thing" and later, the new fur-thing without sharp teeth, or claws, or warm fur. That pensive creature with the big brain.
     Just when you thought this book couldn't get any better, it goes so far as to try and explain why the passing on of knowledge to our children is important. And then, a child appears! And that is YOU, the reader! The whole creation package tapers back down to the personal, and finally ties into a final philosophical question about the one unanswerable question--"Where did that first dot come from?" It's brilliant.
     So, what's my recommendation in a nutshell? Go get this beautiful book! It's accessible narrative nonfiction for young readers on a complex topic. It's the total package.

   Finally, although I appreciate a simple text (as is the current publishing trend), this story goes deeper. It's thoughtful. It's a literary work--for kids. The main character (Chloe) is smart, bold, and logical. As a byproduct of her outlook, she's also judgmental. When she's faced with an issue that doesn't fit into a logical box, her judgmental side kicks into high gear. She can't figure out why Adrian Simcox would say he has a horse when he doesn't. Her irritation comes to a fever pitch and she decides to expose Adrian as a liar.
   To her credit, Chloe is willing to remain open to possible explanations she hasn't thought of yet--answers that bloom in the beautiful imagination of Adrian Simcox.
   I love this book because it will make kids think. I love it because it makes ME think. I am sometimes judgmental (like Chloe), because I don't have enough information to be able to imagine someone else's perspective and unique life challenges. I appreciate this book, and wish for more like it in the world. Adrian Simcox Does NOT Have a Horse is the kind of book that can make the world a better place.

   As I write this, the idyllic woodland community of Paradise, California lies in ashes--destroyed by the forest fire that swept through over a week ago. My brother escaped, abandoning  his home of 20 years when a pine tree in his neighbor's yard burst into flame. He'd spent the morning watering down his roof, hoping for the best (not packing in anticipation of the worst). Now, there were only moments to grab a couple of essentials and GO.
   The next day, he came home to us, in the Bay Area, with only his truck, computer, sleeping roll, and the clothes on his back.
   After a week and two days of limbo, we now have confirmation that his house is destroyed. The fire service posted a photo online. Other than a few deformed metal furnishings--the stove, the desk, the fireplace insert (and chimney)--not much is recognizable. Yet the layout is still there. We see the house still--in our hearts and minds.
   Here it is, nearly Thanksgiving. And we ARE thankful! Over 70 Paradise residents (and possibly many more) lost their lives under tragic circumstances.
   My brother came home!
   Out of the ashes, inspiration?
   I don't yet know if anything inspiring will come from the ashes of the Paradise disaster. But I'm searching, and I'm hopeful. And since picture books are the playground of hope, tonight I'm turning to Out of the Woods by Rebecca Bond, for solace.
   Out of the Woods is the true story of a little boy (the author's grandfather) living in his mother's big, busy, raucous, riotous sportsman's hotel beside a lake in Ontario, Canada in 1914. It's a story of history. A story of childhood memories and fascinations. And a story of a devastating forest fire that drove every living thing--human and animal alike--into the lake for a long, dark day and night while the fire raged. With images of hunter and moose standing shoulder to shoulder, knee-high in water, Out of the Woods is ultimately a story of coexistence and of setting aside differences in the face of disaster.
   My heart goes out to all the residents of Paradise. So much was lost. But I hope every survivor finds solace and inspiration in the fact that they are whole and safe--and out of the woods.