Today I thought I’d share a peek into the process and experimentation that went into making this book.

Specifically—I tried some new printmaking and painting techniques.

I created monotypes (a one of a kind printmaking process) using a fast drying, permanent paint called acryla gouache instead of the usual water or oil based printmaking inks.

Usually, inks used for printmaking either dry slowly (oil based) or dry more quickly but clean up easily with water (water based). But using an acrylic paint that is water based but dries permanently has the potential to leave a permanent residue on the rubber and foam brayers.

That said, it also has the potential to be great for layering in ways that you couldn’t do with a water based ink.

Basically… this is something I’ve wanted to try for a while. But I was nervous about it.

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Acryla gouache is great for layering, and I’ve used it in many of my books (the tree in me, Patchwork, Something Good, and Nothing in Common) because I can layer over it (once dry) with ink and pencil. I can even use my fine tip micron 005 pens on it, though they do eventually gum up, so it shortens the pen’s life. I can also draw into it with pencil while it is drying to create texture.

But acryla gouache also dries FAST and will destroy my printmaking supplies (rubber brayers, foam brayers, plastic printmaking plates) if I don’t work very very quickly, and rinse the supplies often. This isn’t an issue when painting with brushes because you can leave them soaking in water.

But with printmaking, it creates an added constraint of time. This makes for an improvisation based, present-moment (don’t over think it!) approach to art making.

Which I like.

Above are some of my brayers (both rubber and foam) and also some sponges that I used for creating the texture of foam in the book.

Like this page here:

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And here’s that acryla gouache paint…

…along with the green plastic netting (top left) that I used to create texture in some of the tangled piles of garbage that are at the center of this story.

I also used some old paintbrushes to create texture for the sand and surf.

In the images above and below you can also see my Jen Corace seaweed girl/ceramic cup, which I adore and use to store some of my favorite paint brushes.

Above you can also see some yogurt lids which make fabulous paint trays for the acryla gouache. And an Elton Bennett (1910-1974) magnet of some birds in the rain on a log. He was a printmaker from Grays Harbor, one of the ocean regions that inspired my book. I’ve been in awe of his prints since we discovered them in Hoquiam, WA seventeen years ago.

Here’s a closeup of that netting and a detail of one of the images from the book where I used the netting as a stamp.

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In the PNW, we find a lot of netting and ropes when we walk on the beach. As a family that has spent a lot of our lives near the ocean, picking up garbage while out walking is not something we think or talk much about, it’s just something we do.

It is also a central part of the story of hello, ocean. So it was fun to use some of this garbage in the making of the book. Here’s a video with more details of the net and final images:

I’ll share another post about our family beach walks and picking up trash during the year it took me to make this book. But for now here is some garbage that influenced the color palate of the book:

And here are some of the earliest color experiments:

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Finally, here are some process videos of painting/printing the final page of the book. First the underpainting in ink:

Next you can see how I use the foam and rubber brayers in the video below.

The yellow paint that I am using with the rubber brayer is diluted with a transparent acrylic medium to extend the drying time, but I still had to work quite quickly. This video is sped up, but even so all the layering down of paint with rollers had to happen FAST.

After this I went back in and addedfine details with ink and pencil to finish the image.

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One other process related thing… I’m old fashioned in that I still print out paper book dummies when I am designing a picture book. I need to hold the physical object in my hands and experience the page turns, to make sure they are actually working.

In many of my books I use page turns to break up sentences. Sometimes a single sentence will be drawn out over two, three, or even four page turns. I did this with The Book of Mistakes and The Arguers as well as hello, ocean!

I do this to control the timing and the rhythm of the read aloud experience. I also use line breaks this way. But sometimes I will drag a sentence out over too many page turns. (Four is too many.) When this happens, my editor (Lauri Hornik) and Art Director (Lily Malcom) are sure to tell me I’ve gone too far.

They are usually right, so when they speak up I do my best to listen. Listening means I go back and mock up a new dummy, then print it out so I can turn the physical pages. This is the only way for me to know if it’s working. Clicking through a digital document doesn’t come close.

Which is all to say that bookmaking is a team effort. And if you have a great team, count yourself blessed.

For hello, ocean! I was thinking about page turns as the girl moves from exploring and spinning/running/jumping to falling/discovering a tangled pile of kelp and garbage in the dunes. Eventually, I settled on a series of pages that build up to a spread that has a single word on it.

This single word was followed by a spread that has a long list… more words than any other page of the book.

To figure out this sequence and a few other tricky spots, I made twelve dummies. And they helped, a lot. They were critical to fine tuning the pacing of the book.

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Alright… If you’ve made it this far, thanks for reading!

My favorite thing on any social media platform is seeing artist’s process. If you're like me, this post was for you.

If you are also a fan of snail mail (like me) some of the images from hello, ocean! are now available as cards through buyolympia.

You can also order my book through them and it comes with a print of this sunset scene from the back endpapers. Or you can order the book from my local Indie, Browsers Books and have me sign/personalize it.

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What about you— do you have a favorite experimental technique? Do you print out physical dummies for your books? Leave a comment below and I’ll choose a reader to send one of these handmade bookmarks to.

And if you enjoyed this post, please consider subscribing. I post infrequently, mostly around the release of a new book or project, so I promise not to overwhelm your inbox.

There will be one more post about the back story and inspiration behind hello, ocean! before I go quiet again for a bit. Thanks for reading!

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Hi friends! I have a new picture book coming out in three days, and a gift for those of you who would like to preorder a copy through my local Independent Bookstore.

hello, ocean! is the story of a small girl and a day at the beach. It is part celebration— of sand and waves, pelicans and seaweed, clam shells and driftwood and moonstones.

Also, in a world full of problems that can feel beyond our reach, this is a book about finding a problem in a place that you love, doing something about it with your own hands… and how powerful that can be.

And speaking of things we can do or make with our own hands— for the past few months I have been making bookmarks. Lots of them.

I have a few buckets full (see below) and would love to send one your way.

These bookmarks have become a tradition when I have a new picture book coming out into the world. They began as something I made for myself. A number of years ago, while cleaning out my studio I came across some early sketches and outtakes from previous books that weren’t quite nice enough to keep, but also felt too pretty to get rid of. So I took out a ruler and started trimming them into bookmarks.

I’m usually reading 5-10 books at a time, so I sprinkled them throughout my pile. Later, each time I opened a book these little torn paper bits of art gave me a surprising amount of joy. I started thinking other people might enjoy them too. So with my next picture book, the tree in me, I created large sheets of flower patterns with the intention of cutting them up to make bookmarks, to give away.

People loved them, and I’ve been doing this for every book since.

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In this age of glossy stickers and plastic coated bookmarks, of computer generated art, and so called art made by machines…it feels good to make something with my own hands, to share with readers.

They are a gift, from me to you.

A gift that celebrates a different kind of web— the large, intricate and interconnected world of books. A world of readers and bookmakers, booksellers, teachers and librarians. We are all part of an ecosystem that keeps visual storytelling alive for the next generation.

And Independent Bookstores are a critical part of this ecosystem. In our increasingly online world I am trying to find ways to support them. And to encourage others to do the same. So, my hope with these bookmarks is that they will encourage some of you to buy my books from an independent bookstore instead of an online conglomerate. It could be Browsers, where you will get a signed/personalized book as well as a bookmark. Or it could be your own independent bookstore, where you are part of a larger local book community. Either way, thank you.

This feels (in a world that is often overwhelming) like a small thing I can do.

Here’s a video with some of the bookmark making process—

I’ll have a more to say about the actual book making process next week, when hello, ocean! is out in the world. (A process that includes a mix of painting and printmaking with foam brayers and washed up nets found on the beach.)

If you’d like to see more ocean inspiration and process you can also find photos and videos on my IG over here.

For now, please know that preorders are one of the best way to support both bookmakers and booksellers.

Have you already preordered or plan to support another Independent bookstore? Mention your favorite Indie (that you’ve ordered a copy of hello, ocean! from) in the comments and I’ll choose a few readers to send bookmarks to.

For all of you who have already preordered, thank you!!

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I’d find them on walks at the beach when we lived near the coast. And later, when we moved inland, on walks around the city.

Once you start looking, hearts are everywhere.

In fire pits.

And flower petals.

In seaweed.

And seed pods.

In snow and rotten lemons.

In desert rocks and cacti.

Over time, some of these hearts have made their way into my studio—

And seven years ago this collection made its way into a book:

That book went on become a New York Times Bestseller and to receive a number of honors and awards. One of those honors, from The PNBA (Pacific NW Booksellers Organziation) led me to write an essay about the origins of my heart.

Today seems like a good day to share that essay here:

*

The first time I saw a collection that took my breath away, it was on a small island in the San Juans, on the mantel of a fireplace at a friend’s mom’s house. It was an assortment of rocks that had been gathered and gifted over many years. There were different sizes, colors, and textures with one thing in common: they were all hearts made of stone.

I was enchanted by the collection, and the idea that it had grown slowly over time. Each heart shaped rock held a specific memory of place, friendship, love, but also— of something bigger than itself. Each rock pointed to the existence of a larger community, a community of notice-ers. A community of people walking around in the world, paying attention. There was something about this collection of stones gathered by many people over time that made me feel hopeful and a little less alone.

But it wasn’t until almost a decade later, when my husband and I moved from the eastern side of the Cascade Mountains back to the WA coast, that I started my own collection. It began to grow quickly once I became pregnant with my daughter (and could no longer surf), and then, when my daughter was old enough to join me in the walking and looking it really took off.

Fast forward quite a few years (seven near the ocean, and five more near the Salish Sea) and our collection has grown immense. It includes a few shells, driftwood, gravel, even one or two dried leaves; but mostly, it is stone. Stones of various sizes, colors, textures, with one thing in common: their shape.

While this collection grew, a story was also growing in the back of my mind. The story started as a poem that I wrote many years ago, put away, rediscovered, put away, and then rediscovered again. It was odd, the way I kept coming back to this poem over the years. For one thing, it rhymed. And though I love rhythm and repetition, though sound is often my way IN to a poem or a story, I rarely write in rhyme. Also, this poem was sweet. This poem was something that the serious writer in me would (seriously) be worried about sharing with other serious writers— for fear of it being dismissed as overly sentimental. But this poem, which began “my heart is a window/ my heart is a slide/ my heart can be closed, or/ opened up wide…” refused to let go.

Somewhere along the way, amidst revisions to the poem and a growing pile of heart shaped rocks in our living room, it occurred to me that this poem might want images. And so I started paying closer attention. It started with noticing heart shaped leaves on a houseplant by the window, then on a vine along a neighbor’s fence. I was still looking for stones whenever we went to the beach, but I was also finding heart shaped chunks of gravel in a driveway on the walk home from my daughter’s school (four in one driveway over the course of three days!)

Soon I was noticing hearts everywhere: in a rotten lemon; in a piece of torn paper on my studio floor; even on the sidewalk where one day— there was bird poop, in the shape of a heart.

The thing about hearts—whether in stones on the beach, clouds, fences, puddles, leaves—is that they are like small everyday kindnesses: once you start looking, they are everywhere. Like love. And the more you look, the more you see.

Until, some days, you see it everywhere.

And so this search occupied my mind and heart for the 5 plus years of writing and illustrating MY HEART. Only now that the book is out in the world, in the hands of readers, there is a new layer. Now, when I visit bookstores, libraries, and schools to talk about the book, there is always at least one person—a student, a parent, a teacher—who waits around afterward to tell me about their own collection of heart stones.

Because of this, I see the rocks scattered throughout my studio in a new light. Somehow, this thing that I did mostly in solitude (writing, illustrating, noticing) has connected me to a larger community. A community of notice-ers. A community of people walking through their days looking for small signs of love in this world that we share.

Corinna Luyken, 2019

This essay was originally printed on NW Book Lovers, here.

My heart is a book about the joys and the sorrows of the heart. It’s about whole hearts and broken bits, hearts reaching toward sunlight and hearts curling inward on themselves.

You can see more images from the interior of the book over on The Marginalian, where Maria Popova (one of my favorite bloggers) writes about it, here.

“How does the human heart — that ancient beast, whose roars and purrs have inspired sonnets and ballads and wars, defied myriad labels too small to hold its pulses, and laid lovers and empires at its altar — unbusy itself from self-consciousness and learn to be a heart? … [an] uncommonly tender illustrated poem about the tessellated capacities of the heart, about love as a practice rather than a state, about how it can frustrate us, brighten us, frighten us, and ultimately expand us.”

-Maria Popova, The Marginalian

If you’d like to read more about the process of making the art for my heart (it started as watercolor and eventually morphed into printmaking) I was interviewed over on the archived blog Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast (a children’s book lovers treasure trove), here.

Do you have a heart rock collection?

Or another collection that brings you joy in times of sorrow?

Comment below, and I’ll choose one reader from the comments to receive a signed/ personalized copy of my heart.

Earlier this fall I did a series of school visits where I shared my newest picture book, The Arguers. When I visit schools I talk about picture books and the creative process— perception and misperception, uncertainty, delight, making mistakes, and the joy of being surprised.2 I talk about things like spilling ink, hiding horses and hearts in picture books, and the danger of letting cats into your studio.3

Perhaps one day I’ll post more about that. But for now, on the tail end of these school visits, I want to reflect on something else— arguing and conflict in picture books.

When I share books with students and teachers I don’t like to explain what a book is “about” or what I want the reader to “get out” of the story. I like to leave those questions and answers to the reader.

But I do think a story like The Arguers benefits from being read with an open and curious mind. So before I read this book to large groups I’ve been asking a series of questions.

I start with a simple one—

• Has anyone in this room ever been in an argument?

The first time I asked this question, the intensity and enthusiasm of the response took me by surprise. It was a waving hands/bodies leaning forward/faces open in excitement kind of response. It was so far above and beyond what I was expecting that I’ve been thinking about it ever since.

After that visit, I started asking a few more questions before I read—

• Have you ever been in an argument over something small or silly?

• Have you ever been in an argument where you realized later that the other person was right?

• Have you ever been in an argument where you realized later that you were both right?

And then—

• Have you ever gotten in an argument over something small and realized later that a much larger disagreement was hiding behind the small one?

Then I read The Arguers, which is a story about a group of people who are really really good at arguing.

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As I’ve shared The Arguers with more schools I’ve noticed that first question—Have you ever been in an argument?—consistently gets an enthusiastic response. Sometimes it’s the whole room responding quickly. Sometimes it starts with a few hands that go up, but as folks look around and see other people raising their hands, more and more hands will lift. I see kids looking at their friends but also at their teachers or principals— and when they see a teacher has a hand raised, more kids will raise their own.

It’s a beautiful thing. A granting of permission. A nonverbal conversation, an acknowledgment of something much bigger.

Sometimes the things that unite us are beautiful. But just as often, the things that create connection, that make us feel seen or understood or part of a community, are unpleasant.

Zen poet, monk and peace activist Thich Nhat Hanh speaks to this in many his books. In No Mud, No Lotus he says—

“If we can learn to see and skillfully engage with both the presence of happiness and the presence of suffering…eventually we realize that suffering and happiness are not two separate things.

If you know how to make good use of the mud, you can grow beautiful lotuses. If you know how to make good use of suffering, you can produce happiness.”4

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We all feel alone sometimes, in our struggles and disagreements. But we are not alone. And yet, being able to see this—the collective struggle—can be difficult. I think this is part of the reason why there is such an enthusiastic response when I ask kids about arguing.

When I recall the energy of the room that first time I read The Arguers to a large group I also think of taboos—all of the things we collectively don’t talk about. Whether for fear of embarrassment, awkwardness, retribution, or shame. And I’ve realized there is something slightly taboo about the subject of arguing.

Which means there is also something exhilarating and freeing about admitting to it in public.

Which can also, in certain circumstances, make it fun. Which is, perhaps, why reading The Arguers to a room full of school kids is so much fun.

Since getting home I’ve been thinking about other picture books that tackle arguing, quarreling, disagreement and conflict. Some of the books that came to mind are serious, but many of them are also funny. They use humor to tackle difficult truths.

I thought it might be fun to share a few of those here.

This first one is called When I Grow Up, I Will Win The Nobel Prize, by Isabel Pin. I love this book so much—

I also adore Let’s Be Enemies by Janice May Udry and Maurice Sendak—

In this book Sendak and Udry pivot from funny to sad and back again—

They do this over and over, throughout the book. And they make it look so easy— which it is not.

I also love this intro sequence from The Winner, a wordless picture book by Kjell Ringi, that conveys an escalation of conflict, starting with a series of funny little pictures that build into something more serious—

I won’t give away the ending, but I will say that this book is a great example of why a picture book without a “happy” ending can still be deeply satisfying.

Another book along those lines is Dr. Seuss’ The Butter Battle Book. I thought about the ending to The Butter Battle Book a lot as I puzzled my way toward an ending for The Arguers (a 10 year process which I talk about in this post).5

I suspect the last few spreads of The Butter Battle Book were not very fun to draw—

But many of Dr. Seuss’ stories use humor to talk about conflict. Books like Yurtle The Turtle and many of the stories in Sneetches and other Stories (the collection that has my all time favorite Seuss story, What was I Scared of?)

This sequence from The Zax is a great one and looks like it actually was fun to draw—

I can’t talk about arguing in picture books without sharing a few of my favorite arguing scenes from the book that inspired me to become a picture book maker— The Very Persistent Gappers of Frip by George Saunders and Lane Smith.

This book is gorgeous, thought provoking, and also SO funny—

I talk more about how Gappers inspired The Arguers here.

You can also read a conversation I had with George Saunders back in 2023 about the making of The Very Persistent Gappers of Frip here.6

While working on The Arguers I learned what a delight it can be to draw people arguing. If you like to draw and find yourself feeling frustrated over the state of disagreement in our world today, I recommend it.

Some of the conflict scenes in The Arguers even made me laugh out loud during the sketching process. A few of those here—

The feeling that accompanies being simultaneously surprised and delighted by a drawing you hadn’t even imagined yet, as you are in the midst of drawing it, is one of the best ever drawing-feelings.

Kin to the feeling of stumbling across a drawing that perfectly expresses a feeling you’ve had but hadn’t consciously expressed.

Which is how I felt the first time I saw this spread (which also made me laugh out loud) from Open House for Butterflies by Ruth Krauss and Maurice Sendak—

Finally, here is an even bigger pile of books that deal with conflict and disagreement. While there are many picture books that focus on conflict as it pertains to war, I’ve only included a few of those here (Why?, WAR, The Winner, The Butter Battle Book). Most of the books below use humor of some kind in their approach. If there are other books on conflict that you love (especially ones that use humor) please mention them in the comments.

I’ll choose two people from the comments to receive signed/personalized copies of both my newest book (The Arguers) and my first book (The Book of Mistakes). Please note that these are unlikely to ship in time for the holidays.

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Speaking of the holidays—

If you are interested in signed books, I partner with my local bookshop, Browsers, and can sign/personalize books if you order through them. Include a note with your order if you want a dedication or signed book with a small illustration. You can do that here.

I also partner with buy olympia to make cards & prints— I talk more about my partnerships with these small businesses on my last substack post, here.

Please consider shopping small and/or local this year, wherever you live.

6

Story Club with George Saunders

Office Hours

Q. I’m curious if you’d be willing to discuss the process of making of “The Very Persistent Gappers of Frip…

Read more

3 years ago · 147 likes · 61 comments · George Saunders

As a bookmaker, one of the (many) joys of having a local Independent bookstore is the depth of the relationship(s) that build over years of mutual support. I lived for many years on the WA coast without a bookshop (in Aberdeen, Westport and Hoquiam), so I never take mine for granted.

Here in Olympia, WA my local Indie is Browsers Bookshop (a store that was coincidentally founded in 1928 in Aberdeen, then moved to Olympia in 1935). Browsers has been owned by 4 women in the 97 years that it has been operating, most recently by Andrea Griffith who took over in 2014 and has been slowly turning Browsers into the gem it is today. Andrea has been helping me behind the scenes since the launch of my very first book (The Book of Mistakes) in 2017.

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At that first book launch Andrea ordered so many copies of The Book of Mistakes I thought for sure she’d have to return some. But she didn’t. She and her team sold them all. And today I still make regular trips downtown to Browsers to sign copies of Mistakes.

As we approach the holidays, if you would like to support my work there are a few ways to do so that also support some of my favorite businesses.

Throughout the year I offer signed/personalized books that ship through Browsers. During the holidays we make sure to ship these quickly! Just include a note with your order here if you would like a dedication or to have your book signed with a small illustration.

I also partner with Buy Olympia, an online retail + wholesale website that supports many Pacific NW artists and bookmakers. I have cards, prints and books available through them. Cards like the above JOY in green, and books (like these below from The Arguers and the tree in me) which come with limited edition signed prints. You can see more of my books, prints and cards here.

You can even see a sneak peek and preorder my next book (hello, ocean!) now through both the Buy Olympia and Browsers websites (books ordered through Buy Olympia will ship with an exclusive mini print and books ordered through Browsers will ship with a one of a kind hand painted bookmark), but please note that it won’t arrive in time for the holidays—hello, ocean! will ship in time for publication June 2, 2026.

One of the many things I love about Buy Olympia (and owners Pat Castaldo and Aaron Tuller) is the larger creative ecosystem they nurture. They’ve created a business that supports so many Pacific NW artists as well as artists and children’s book illustrators around the country. And they partner with hundreds of small shops and Independent bookstores as well (including Browsers). So if you are buying cards and prints in a brick and mortar store from Nikki McClure, Carson Ellis, Emily Winfield Martin, or Phoebe Wahl you are likely supporting Buy Olympia, as well as all the other lesser known artists that they represent.

On their website, you can find work by many other kid lit illustrators and artists who are here on Substack, including: fellow Olympian Nikki McClure, Carson Ellis, Phoebe Wahl, Emily Winfield Martin, Sarah Jacoby, Jon Klassen, Meera Lee Patel, Gemma Correll, and more. You can see their full list of artists here.

If you’d like a book but don’t need it signed, supporting your own local Independent Bookstore is also a wonderful way to go. Or you can shop online through bookshop.org and a portion of the sales will support the Independent Book Seller of your choice.

And for any Olympia area folk you can also find my books at our wonderful local toy shop, Captain Little.

If you would like to know when I have a new book or projects in the works, subscribing to this substack and following me on IG are the best ways to stay up to date.

Also, if there are any images from my books that you don’t see listed but would like to purchase as a card or print, please reach out or leave a comment below.

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Wherever you shop, I hope you will make some of it small and local this holiday season.

The Arguers is a modern parable/fairy tale about conflict and disagreement, excess and entanglement. But the story of making The Arguers— that is actually a story about endings.

The first draft was called A Great Talent, and is from 2015—the year I signed with my agent and found a home for my first picture book (The Book of Mistakes).

However, The Arguers is different from my other books in that the ending to the story wasn’t completely sorted when my editor acquired the project. Or rather, it had an ending that I liked. But it was a cautionary ending. And it was, perhaps, a little depressing for a picture book. And so my editor, art director, and agent (all smart people) were wondering if I might find another (more hopeful) way to end the story.

Eventually, I realized they might be right.

Over the next ten years, I wrote and/or illustrated nine more books. After each project I would revisit The Arguers. But each time the ending fell flat. I couldn’t find my way toward anything that felt both satisfying and honest. Let alone hopeful.

Fortunately, the ending to The Book of Mistakes also gave me a lot of trouble. So I was in familiar territory. I knew how essential discomfort is to creative work. (You can read more about the process of finding an ending for The Book of Mistakes here.)1

And so, I muddled along.

Which means—I made a lot of book dummies.

There are twenty six versions with different endings that I’ve printed out, even more if you count the digital drafts. One version has a lost stuffed animal, another a snow globe. There is a field of flowers, and an ice cream truck. There are long scarves and flowers and birds. To put it in perspective, for The Book of Mistakes I made fourteen dummies. And I thought that was a lot.

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Then, a couple years ago, in the midst of this creative uncertainty, and eight years after writing the first draft of The Arguers, I had a this conversation with George Saunders over on his Substack.

It started with a question about The Very Persistent Gappers of Frip, his 2000 picture book collaboration with illustrator Lane Smith and designer Molly Leach2.

Gappers is the book that made me realize, with certainty, that I wanted to make picture books. It is beautiful and strange. It is a fable, or a fairy tale, of sorts. It is often ridiculous, and yet it always feels true.

As an aside— I recently learned that Capable’s father in Gappers is a caricature of George Saunders.

I can totally see this.

In fact, now that I know, I can’t believe I didn’t notice this on my own (thank you Lane, for the inside scoop.)

So… Gappers was my introduction to George, Lane, and Molly— three of my favorite book makers.3 And George was my introduction to Substack. Specifically, his Story Club— which showcases Saunders-as-teacher at his finest, delving deeply into storytelling and the creative process.4

To this day, Story Club is my favorite thing on Substack. Even when I’m busy and in deadline mode (like now—final art for my next picture book is due in two weeks) I make time to read the Q&A’s where he responds to reader questions about the creative process. For writers and creatives who don’t know about it—it’s a gem.

And so, as I continued to struggle with my own story, I reached out to George via Story Club. I was curious about the making of The Gappers of Frip, about the ending in particular, about hope and darkness and writing for young people:

Story Club with George Saunders

Office Hours

Q. I’m curious if you’d be willing to discuss the process of making of “The Very Persistent Gappers of Frip…

Read more

3 years ago · 144 likes · 61 comments · George Saunders

After George answered my questions he asked me a few in return. At the time (as you can see in my responses) I was in the final stages of figuring out an ending for Arguers.

The day after our conversation, when I sat down to write I was still stuck. But I felt a little less alone. I’d been reminded that the questions I was asking (about hope, discomfort, and tidy endings) were worthwhile. I was reminded that other writers have been down this path before, and that asking hard or uncomfortable questions can be a way forward.

And so I went back to work.

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Eventually, I found my way toward an ending. It’s not entirely hopeful. But also, it’s not without hope.

To me this feels honest. And this feeling of honesty, in turn, fills me with… hope.

Since working on The Arguers, I’ve realized how much I like making books about uncomfortable subjects: mistakes, loneliness, cruelty, heartache, misunderstanding, arguing. I also like making books about beautiful things. But what I love most is making books5 that allow the beautiful and the uncomfortable to live together on the page—like they do in life.

This, to me, is the beauty of The Gappers of Frip. It’s what gave me shivers the first time I read it… to see something true and dark and uncomfortable expressed in a beautiful way. With humor, which is a form of grace.

And now, ten years since I wrote that first draft about an argument over brushes and combs, and twenty five years since I discovered The Gappers of Frip6 and started to dream of making picture books, The Arguers is out in the world!

It’s a full circle moment.

The best kind.

What about you— do you have a favorite picture book that doesn’t have a hopeful ending? I’m thinking of Dr. Seuss’ Butter Battle Book. Anything else? (I’d argue that Jon Klassen’s first two hat books are hopeful— in that they are stories of justice, of hope fulfilled.)

What books have inspired you the most on your writing or illustration journey?

Comment below and I’ll pick two readers at random to send a signed copy of The Arguers, along with one of the handmade bookmarks pictured above.

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Also—

If you enjoy process pictures you can also follow me over on Instagram. But if you want to know when a book is coming out and other studio updates, this Substack is the best place.

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about me…

Hi, I’m Corinna. I’m an author and illustrator. Mostly, I make picture books. Books like The Book of Mistakes, my heart, the tree in me, ABC and you and me, and most recently, The Arguers.

Sometimes I also paint other things— like flowers.

Outside my studio I have a garden that used to be a driveway. Now, instead of gravel there is a small patio surrounded by blooms. I’ve planted them according to color— because I love how peaches and oranges look next to grayish blue-greens. I love the way white sparkles amidst all the shades of green. I like blue and purple when they are broken up with splashes of yellow.

There is so much I can’t control in life, but planting or painting flowers in this way gives me a semblance of control.

I am particular about the color in my books, too. I like to use limited color palettes to amplify mood and emotion, to add layers of meaning.

And yet…when I try to do the same in my garden, nature has a way of interfering. Every year the blue bells, borage, and mountain bluets pop up where I haven’t planted them. Every spring I step outside and find myself thinking… “what is that flower doing there?” But, the bees love these flowers. And I love the bees. So—the flowers stay.

This doesn’t keep me from arguing with them, a bit, in my head when I am out in the garden. There is a line in my newest picture book about arguing with flowers, and like many of the moments in many of my books; this line is part imagination, part real life.

But I didn’t make the connection between my own garden and this moment until recently.

When I am working on a project there can be this feeling of distance… like I am taking notes or dictations from somewhere a little beyond the edges of my day to day self. Then, when a book is released into the world and I am asked to talk about it, I start to see connections between this imagined thing, my own lived-in life, and the larger world.

This will be a place to explore those connections.

a few other things…

If you want to know when I have new books and other work, want to see occasional images of my studio, current works in progress, and perhaps an occasional picture of my studio cats, please subscribe.

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I’d love to know what brought you here, what sort of content you hope to see, your favorite (or least favorite) color combinations, or anything else you’d like to share.