The Value of Legacy: Encouraging the Heirloom Picture Book Author

Image: a boy is nestled against his grandmother as they read a picture book together on a sofa.
Photo by Mikhail Nilov

Today’s guest post is by author and writing coach Barbara Leary.


When I finally finished writing my first children’s book, I met with agents and editors at a regional publishing conference. I had gone through about 18 drafts (no exaggeration), hired a kid lit expert to coach me through revisions, and polished the manuscript until I was confident every word had earned its place. I felt good about my story.

I did not feel so good after talking with the industry gatekeepers.

They warned me that children’s publishing was extraordinarily competitive and most manuscripts never make it out of the slush pile. Without even glancing at my work, they advised me to prepare for rejection and a long search that might not have a happy ending.

At that rate, I figured I’d be dead before I got a deal. I almost was.

As I was still evaluating my publishing options, I underwent emergency surgery to remove a fast-growing brain tumor. When I was discharged from the hospital, having escaped the long-term impacts suffered by many brain tumor survivors, publishing my book had become an urgent priority. I no longer gave a rusty rat’s tail about finding an agent or traditional publisher. I wasn’t going to waste any more time waiting for someone else’s permission to publish a story that mattered to me.

But seven years later, I still wonder: How many would-be authors are out there right now who, like me, ran into more discouragement than encouragement as they tried to navigate a path to publication? How many manuscripts remain locked away in desk drawers simply because the mountain looks too steep to climb?

Early in my career, I worked in magazine publishing. More recently, I had published a large-scale coffee table book, which involved hiring a writer, working with him through developmental edits, gathering more than 100 photos, engaging a line editor and book designer, and running a Kickstarter campaign to fund the printing.

So I knew the mechanics of making a book. And I knew that print-on-demand technology was making independent publishing more accessible and less financially risky than ever before. Jumping into indie publishing wasn’t much of a leap for me.

Within a year, I had published three picture books, each written for one of my three granddaughters. The first went on to win first place in the Writer’s Digest 2020 Self-Published Book Awards. It was an unexpected thrill, but the only validation I truly needed was my granddaughters’ excitement when I read them “their” books.

After the books were released, I heard from a lot of people who said they’d always wanted to write a children’s book. Most weren’t searching for agents, studying industry trends, or dreaming of bestseller lists. They wanted to create something meaningful for a child they loved. Like me, they were motivated not by sales, but by legacy. Over time, I came to think of them as “heirloom authors.”

The heirloom author’s challenge

Mapping out and navigating a path forward as an heirloom picture book author is no small matter.

First, heirloom authors are not absolved from understanding the mechanics of children’s literature. The rules of kid lit do not exist to satisfy publishers; they exist to satisfy children. It doesn’t matter if the book was written by a loving grandparent, a child still doesn’t want a heavy-handed morality tale. They want relatable protagonists with the agency to solve their own problems, not grownups who swoop in to save the day. They want to pore over interesting illustrations that keep them engaged until the last page. And the grownups reading to them want word counts appropriate to age and attention span.

The illustration and production costs can be significant, and for authors whose goal is to create a meaningful keepsake rather than build a business, the likelihood of recouping that investment is low. Faced with thousands of dollars in upfront expenses, many conclude that the project simply doesn’t make financial sense. When you compound this with the nagging fear that a project meant for a narrow audience is somehow less “valid” than a commercially viable one, you give people every reason to give up.

But navigating the path becomes easier when we collectively redefine what success looks like. A family vacation or shared hobby is not judged by its financial return. Many heirloom authors view their books in much the same way. They see an investment in family connection and a tangible contribution to something meaningful, like helping the children in their lives learn to love books and reading.

Consider a few of my recent clients. Lynn Hays wanted to preserve family history for her new grandson, so in Jack’s Journey she tells the story of her daughter’s marriage and the child’s birth through the eyes of a rescue kitten. She likened the expense to the cost of a “modest vacation,” rationalizing it in lieu of travel.

“I have taken great satisfaction in receiving photos from friends showing their children holding open the book and from hearing their reactions to it,” Lynn says. “One little girl told her mom that she thought they should volunteer at an animal shelter… This is priceless.”

Similarly, the desire to share his love of language with his granddaughter is what prodded Buzz McClain to publish When There Are More Than Two, a whimsical picture book about animal collective nouns.

“My rhyming doggerel was the literal ‘manuscript in a drawer,’ which is where it resided for years… I’ve been a journalist for decades but have never done a book. Having one published as this stage of my game is a real delight,” says Buzz. He doesn’t much care if he recoups his investment. “If I do, great. And if I don’t, well, baby Averly is still going to have a book dedicated to her.”

What distinguishes heirloom authors is not a greater love of children or a more noble purpose. Neither is the heirloom picture book a lesser form because its goals differ from those of the commercial market. In fact, their authors likely represent a passionate and growing segment of the independent publishing landscape. Their books may never appear on bestseller lists, but they earn their place on their families’ bookshelves alongside the Caldecott Medal winners.

When I left the hospital after brain surgery, I stopped worrying about whether a publisher would decide my stories were worth sharing. I knew only that they mattered to me and to the children for whom they were written. My health scare gave me the determination I needed to punch through that initial wall of discouragement.

The question is not whether the market wants your story. It is whether there is a child who might treasure it. If there is, what are you waiting for?

Subscribe to comments
Notify of
guest

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

0 Comments
oldest
newest most voted