Author: Alex Steele

Children’s picture books merge prose, poetry, and art into kind of magical paper movie starring whoever wants to be the performer. They serve as gateways to sleep but can be enchanting any time of day. 

If you’re interested in writing a picture book…

Gotham is offering a brand-new Picture Book Intensive, in two three-hour Zoom sessions, Saturdays August 9 and 16. If that timing doesn’t work for you or it fills up, just put yourself on the wait list and you’ll be notified when it’s offered again. And you can also work on picture books (as well as other kind of children’s books) in our Children’s Book Writing courses. 

A few of my favorite picture books: 

Hello Lighthouse (written and illustrated by Sophie Blackall) – We live alongside the keeper of a lighthouse, watching him tend the house and light. Time passes, seasons change, people are rescued, and the keeper finds a wife who gives birth to a child in the lighthouse. And we experience the mystery of nature and life. 

Last Stop on Market Street (written by Matt de la Peña, illustrated by Christian Robinson) – A boy rides a bus with this grandmother to reach a soup kitchen where they help out. The boy wishes they had a car and he’s not so thrilled where they’re going, but he discovers beauty in the most unlikely places. 

Officer Buckle and Gloria (written and illustrated by Peggy Rathmann) – A policeman makes regular visits to talk about safety in schools, but the audience is pretty bored until he starts coming with a police dog. Suddenly, his talks are hit—because the dog is doing all kinds of crazy things behind his back. 

These books are fiction, but picture books can also be nonfiction. Somewhat adjacent to pictures books are board books (simple concept books for the youngest kids) and easy readers (with limited vocabulary to ease kids into reading on their own). 

Picture books are mostly for ages 3 to 7, but you can keep reading them forever. 

It may seem like picture books are easy to write, but that’s far from true. It’s quite the challenge to create one good enough to get published, let alone enrapture kids you’ve never met. That’s why we’re here to help.

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In other exciting news, Gotham is about to kick off its summer season in NYC’s Bryant Park, in their outdoor Reading Room. Every Thursday evening, starting July 10, we’ll be offering free 90-minute classes open to anyone who shows up. And this will be the first time we’ve offered our new Writer’s Mind course there. Check out the schedule to see what’s happening when. 

We hope to see some of you there!

Alex Steele

Gotham President

Sometimes we just need a laugh. And writers can be especially helpful with that. Here’s two passages I like…

First, the episode of Seinfeld called “The Deal,” written by Larry David. Jerry is good friends with Elaine, of course, but years back they dated for a while. One night they decide they can start having sex with each other so long as they keep it only sex, nothing else, not even sleeping over.

All goes well until Elaine’s birthday comes up. Jerry goes shopping for a present in a second-hand store, taking his buddy George along for help. Jerry hopes to get the right balance—a gift that won’t upset the spirit of the deal. Here they’re sifting through the bric-a-brac:

George: I got it. You wanna get her something nice? How ‘bout a music box?

Jerry: No, too relationshippy. She opens it up, she hears that Lara’s theme, I’m dead.

George: Okay, what about a nice frame? With a picture of another guy in it. Frame says I care for you, but if you wanna get serious, perhaps you’d be interested in someone like this.

Jerry: Nice looking fellow.

George: What about candle holders?

Jerry: Too romantic.

George: Lingerie?

Jerry: Too sexual.

George: Waffle maker.

Jerry: Too domestic.

George: Bust of Nelson Rockefeller.

Jerry: Too gubernatorial.

The situation’s funny because most of us have dealt with relationship precariousness. And it’s topped by that last word—amusing even if you don’t know it means “relating to the office of governor,” which Rockefeller was.

Next, we have Dory Dory Black Sheep, from the Dory Fantasmagory children’s book series, written by Abby Hanlon. It’s reading time in Dory’s first grade-class, and she’s paired with George because, well, neither one of them has come too far reading-wise. Dory considers George a friend, even though he’s on the goofy side. Here’s what happens:

Our teacher comes over. “I think you two are going to love the new series I chose for you. It’s called Happy Little Farm.”

We pretend we are reading until she leaves.

“If I was the farmer, I would just eat all the animals,” whispers George.

“If I was the farmer, I would move to the city and get an apartment with an elevator,” I say.

“If I was the farmer, I would run around naked and put mud all over my body and then stick things to it,” says George.

“But you would do that anyway,” I say.

The writer is a former first-grade teacher, and she knows how to capture these kids in all their very-real hilarity.

Now… go read, watch, or write something funny.

Alex Steele

Gotham President

In the 1948 British film The Red Shoes, Boris Lermontov, a famous ballet impresario, poses a question to Vicky Page, an aspiring ballerina whom he has just met:

Boris: Why do you want to dance?

Vicky: Why do you want to live?

Boris: Well, I don’t know exactly…why, er, but I must.

Vicky: That’s my answer too.

Vicki is a brilliant dancer and Lermontov casts her as the lead in a new ballet called The Red Shoes, based on the Hans Christian Andersen fairy tale, about a woman who acquires red ballet slippers that will never let her stop dancing.

Which mirrors Vicki’s life—as Lermontov demands total devotion, eventually making Vicky choose between dancing and the man she loves.

It’s all terribly melodramatic, but it raises a tantalizing question…

Why is Vicky so compelled to dance?

Why is my daughter so compelled to sing and play the guitar, which she recently did in the school talent show? (She was great, thanks for asking.)

Why are so many of you compelled to tell stories, working furiously to make them excellent?

All these things take a toll on our bodies and psyche. They pull us away from our friends and family. They seldom pay off with good money.

The challenge, I think, is part of the appeal. There’s something called the Effort Paradox, which means despite our natural aversion to taking the hard way, we find something appealing about working hard for something.

If a mysterious stranger gave you a gem of a poem or story and said, “I want you to have this, put your name on it, publish it, sell it,” and you did so to much acclaim, would that be satisfying? Probably not.

The arts are especially seductive, but the Effort Paradox can apply to anything, from science to coding to athletics to spelunking.

And it’s not just the difficulty. In these pursuits, we become possessed with a wild desire to push and push for an unattainable perfection. The quest holds at least as much pain as pleasure, but it makes us feel thrillingly alive, flying right over the mundane parts of our lives.

It’s like when you’re watching a game, it’s close, seconds left, and you’re glad you’re not the one handling the ball because that’s way too much pressure, but this moment is exactly where that player wants to be, in charge of their high-stakes destiny.

That might be how you feel when you’re conjuring a piece of writing out of the empty air.

Also…it’s a chance to create something significant. Something that makes your mark. Something that’s yours and yours alone.

It’s a way to write your name on the universe.

Alex Steele

Gotham President