The trouble with growing up
The trouble with children’s books today is I am not a child anymore. I remember of course. And I can still read with a child’s wonder. But I have lost most of that wonder when I am compared to a child and I see not an ounce of what they see. I have taken things for granted and I am so ashamed that I had to grow up.
When I first read Harry Potter I was quite upset that I had to be grown to finally read that wonderful story. Why did I not have such a hero? Discovering children’s books is something I have done as an adult. Most of my children’s books were Golden Books. I still have the tattered things, but they are mine.
In 1987 I was 18 and working in a bookstore. A new shipment of children’s book had come in. It was then that I discovered the Viennese artist, Lisbeth Zwerger. “The Gift of the Magi” was the first book of hers I ever saw. I can remember the very moment, quite clearly. In that quiet moment, I saw what I wanted to do with my life.
The path is not always clear. And I continue to struggle with this dream of mine. The marriage of pictures and words create a world in a little book. I have one published book and it taught me many things.
So, the trouble is keeping your adult self out of your child mind. Create that wonderment. Revisit that playfulness. And don’t give up.