Bookmark
by E Crain

Marking

where

I am.

Knowing

there’s

no rush.

Letting

life

in

ter

rupt.

Holding

white space

flush

Your “booked“ friend,

Elayne

My posts are always free, but my focus isn't; if you found this post interesting or useful, please consider ♡' ing it so I know. Thank you!

It’s not too surprising, I suppose, that everything was far easier when I was “just” writing. 🤔 Even with my diverse, rotating manuscript piles, the only focus — ❤️words❤️ — require so little in the way of tools or space. So long as I have my laptop, or even a printout and red pen, I’m able to get right down to business!

Enter: illustration. (Oh, illustration. So exciting—and yet, so overwhelming.)

As I pushed to prepare my first portfolio for early May, many of my early-2026 work hours were devoted to visual art, and my writing became much more of a back burner than it’s ever been. I used long, focused work sessions—sometimes entire days—and a whole lot of “piles.” That worked fine enough for what it was—creative, experimental panic, over and over!—but is not exactly ideal. 😅 Because my writing desk is small and relatively cramped, I defaulted to creating traditional art at our dining room table, which meant I needed to wrap up certain steps by dinnertime each day—plus, I am pretty tired of getting olive oil stains on my watercolor paper!

Now, post-conference, I need to continue working hard on my visual storytelling—despite all its strange new needs for tools, space, and experimentation—WHILE ramping up my writing to be the sacred part of my workday I need.

What I need to do: just, uh, fold it in.

Luckily, I got some great advice from a creative friend on maybe how to manage that—by focusing on dummy-making! So, that’s the plan!

This week, I already have a manuscript I plan to wrap up a major revision on, but don’t currently envision illustrating, so I will be doing two things—giving myself a few hours each day to work purely on words, from 9 a.m. to lunch (except on Tuesdays, when I will switch to the afternoon to do the writing/revising), followed by lunch, followed by art. The exception will be on Tuesdays, when I will reverse the schedule to take advantage of my Tuesday a.m. Blue Pencil art morning Zooms.

M-F*: 9-lunch: writing; post-lunch: art**

*excepting Tuesdays, when the order reverses
**focusing on one dummy at a time

We’ll see—but I’m excited to have a clear, seemingly doable plan with two obvious bonuses (from my perspective).

Bonus One: feeling like I get to work on writing all day (to a degree—since making a dummy will also inform story revision pretty intensely) WHILE also honing my visual chops. (Plus, either way, the story itself—the most important part—will only benefit!)

Bonus Two: seeing how this goes (what supplies I find I need at-the-ready vs. stored for both, what kind of dedicated spaces work best, if it’s best to keep to one bigger space or break things into zones, etc.) will all give me super useful “field-tested” feedback as I look forward to setting up my office/studio (and the library) at our new house.

Win/win/win—I hope! (We’ll see!)

Your “above the fold” friend,

Elayne

My posts are always free, but my focus isn’t; if you found this post interesting or useful, please consider ♡’ing it, so I know. Thank you!

Dear Friend,

Ten (plus) things to grin-dulge in.

• The Final Word on Lines

• Have you been eating trash apples?

• For sail:

  

• Turns Out, I’m 100% That Briggs

• Sorry in advance

• Epcot is my favorite, + he’s not wrong about the anagram

• “Can something be tragic and funny? I shall invent this.” 🎭

• Saw a fast-casual Asian restaurant called Wok In Wok Out yesterday 🏆

• Meanwhile, neigh-borly news on Nextdoor

• Fauxupational hazard

• Bonus: Don’t you feel bad for asking now?

Sad note: I don’t earn any commission on what I highlight in this newsletter.

My Substack posts from this month were:

• 📌 Home, At Last - Setting down my lifelong suitcases -- with delight and terror

• 📌 Little Elayne’s First Art Museum Visit - And the “An American Vision: Three Generations of Wyeth Art” pamphlet I still have from it

• 📌 The Head and the Heart for Creators - Being mindful of what, and who, you most warmly invite in

• 📌 Video Tour of My First-Ever Illustration Portfolio - Kindness appreciated! (😂😅 Please and thank you!) :)

And two posts that I coaxed out from under the fridge with bits of cheese:

• 📌 The Good (vs. the Bad) Kind of Scary - How do you know when to push yourself to try something new, versus giving yourself grace NOT to? No, really, I’m asking--plus, what a nighttime scuba dive felt like and what kind of U2 fan I am.

• 📌 The Fine Art of Procrastiworking - And a reminder of the one and only thing you have to do to be a writer.

  

My third ever cassette tape (first female singer) was Cyndi Lauper’s She’s So Unusual, and I wore that tape out. Anyway, here she is playing All Through the Night as it was originally arranged, on the…dulcimer? Whatever, feeling it vm.

Weird Elayne TV continues—and how! I kinda feel bad about how much TV I wallowed in: the entire first season of The Other Bennett Sister, the first few seasons of Never Have I Ever (recommended by a kid lit friend), a couple comedy specials, and the first few episodes of Spider-Noir and Bait. And this was on top of an obligatory Amélie rewatch.

All May my heart beat overtime, with the conference and the house and other unexpected core memories. I have not quite processed it/them, honestly, and that’s probably why I overindulged in screen time (though I read a lot, too.)

The heat of June will find me attempting to: protect the sparks, put my Scout uniform back on, and to figure out my daily workflow better* (* meaning, ‘at all’). Wish me luck; I will surely need it.

At any rate, if you’ll be there, maybe I will see you at ALA.

Your “here’s some Decemberist June” friend,

Just as most people seem to fold their hometowns into their identity, I have instead always seen myself as a bit of a tumbleweed1. In fact, this is what I wrote as part of my anti-resolutions for this year, back when I was figuring out what a year of “phoenixing” could look like, in my case.

From 2026: What I Resolve NOT To Do This Year:

continue to have one foot out the door, wherever I live. I’m pretty old to still not have a hometown. My family moved dozens of times as a kid/teen, and then the same thing happened with my partner’s military service and academic posts. But now we’re in Seattle, and we really want to stay—which means I need to find us a house (maybe a forever house?) that supports us long-term, build up longer-term local friendships, and generally value the slower, deeper more than “let’s-have-fun-now-but-purposefully-avoid-getting-too-attached-to-places-or-people.” It’s a pretty big mindset swap, which requires new skills and vulnerabilities.

Well, friends—we are finally buying a home here in Seattle, and the closing will be the second week in June!

Normally this would be when I’d want—very much—to share a picture of the house. But, these days, I’m just a little more skeeved out by what sharing something like means, in terms of what I’d be directly giving the algorithms. So I will, instead, say: it has lots of windows (score!), enough rooms that we’ve got a nice one for the teen and ourselves, plus I can have one dedicated as a library/game room and another as my studio/office (double score!) and my partner can have HIS own office (hooray!) while also having a guest room/landing space for my oldest when/if he should want to make use of it.

Most importantly—at least, how I’m wired—there is a mama robin with an active nest under one of the porch eaves, and if you are on the second floor looking out the window, you look right out on them2.

In short: HUZZAH!

As always, there will be work to do: the outside of the house is painted as if it were inspired by Lilly’s Pink Plastic Purse, and the backyard is (inexplicably) full of wood chips, instead of grass. But I actually love the ability to put my own creative stamp on a place—so these kinds of cosmetic opportunities are actually really fun to think about.

Less fun to ponder? That, somehow, while this is exactly what we wanted—I wanted!—I can’t pretend it’s also been quite terrifying? Signing that contract? Figuring out what needs to happen next to get ready, and making all the decisions along the way? It’s not that it’s the biggest purchase we’ve ever made (though that wasn’t nothing - 😅); it’s that the purchase seems so immutable and permanent.

And even though that’s what I want—what I’ve always wanted, really—permanence, security—it’s also something that sets off more than a little fight-or-flight for a girl with my particular history of frequent moves, rolodex of Plans B-through-Z, and a certain sensitivity to rejection (and therefore, a fear of closed escape routes)?

Even though I like to think of this phoenixing year as a once-in-a-lifetime growth opportunity, the truth is I’ve phoenixed many, many, many times in my life already—just not normally by choice. I so often had to, which meant, at best, a sense of relief to get through it, rather than pride. So, of course, this purposeful year is significantly different, in that truly all-important way!

Still, tell my lizard brain, who is fully aware I would always choose “flight” as the ideal superpower.

What does it mean to own a home? Doesn’t committing to one place—to one setting—sort of mean it owns you, too, in a way? (See what I’m battling? This strange, scary doubt about whether I am up to the challenge of being vulnerable enough to stay put, and to finally ‘whether’—ha ha—in place?)

I can’t deny that thinking of myself, ourselves, now as: homeowners. Seattleites. permanent residents.—well, it’s a strange shift in identity, away from seeing myself as a lifelong nomad to whom particularly deep connections are later pain points, and therefore, things to try to temper—to someone who really, really wants to be brave and go very, very deep (but needs to do so very, very, very, very…<takes a nap>…<calendar pages flip>…slowly).

So, the one-week house-buying process norm here?

The timing, too, is surely amplifying everything—especially as I’m already feeling some anxiety-riddled (even if helpful, and necessary) identify shifts: (somehow) becoming a ‘half-empty nester’, being motherless3, navigating my late-in-life combo (but leaning hard hyperactive-impulsive) ADHD diagnosis4, upskilling in the new, daunting (if exciting) creative field of illustration, while trying to preserve the productive and similarly sacred aspects of my writing life—and, to really weird myself out—even a noticeable physical transformation from taking better care of myself (with increased confidence in some ways, and increased confusion in others). And—on top of that—not really feeling quite like I’m aceing ANY of it, at least yet. It’s…a lot, and even though these are mostly privileges and I know (god, I know!) I’m WHINING here, that doesn’t change the fact that they are new to me, and one or many of them always seem to be popping up in my emotional landscape like 2026 whack-a-mole.

At any rate, a lot of big feelings are going to come up (and honestly, some already have). What helps is that at least one of them? It’s gratitude.

I know a lot of people do not have the option to buy a house, particularly now, and particularly in Seattle, and I’m not unaware of how strange (and tone-deaf!) it may sound to be, well, 90 percent thrilled and 10 percent in a ridiculous-seeming panic over good news. But when I’m getting that feeling, yet again, I do have one weird trick that also seems to help…

remembering alllll the bookshelves our house will soon have.

You guys—there are going to be SO MANY.

Your “homing pigeon” friend,

Elayne

My posts are always free, but my focus isn’t; if you found this post interesting or useful, please consider ♡’ing it, so I know. Thank you!

What I do recall: we were living in Shreveport, Louisiana, where we’d occasionally venture to nearby Dallas to visit my Great Aunt Linda.1 I was elementary school age. I think maybe (?) we saw the billboards for the exhibit, and that’s what spurred it—that and the fact that I was actually quite into art at the time, and had been entering all kinds of arty craziness into the Caddo Parish Fair each year2.

As I recall, only my mom, me, and my baby brother Chris went—and my colicky brother soon generated his own ideas about being stuck in a crowded, busy space. In between feeding/changing/generally dealing with his unhappiness at being there, Mom soon lost patience with dealing with me, too—and quickly cut me loose. So, not only was it my first trip to the art museum, but it was also my chance to explore on my own!

The very idea of an art museum—as well as the exhibit itself—were revelations to me, and perhaps because he was the first part of the exhibit and set the tone for me for what an “art museum” consisted of in my mind forevermore, N.C. Wyeth’s art got the majority of my attention that day.

Of course, now it’s kind of funny to think that he was, of course, most famous for his illustration work—and a LOT of it, providing the visual storytelling for more than 100 books, including children’s books for Charles Scribner’s Sons, like Robin Hood, Treasure Island and many, many others—and I definitely enjoyed the strong narrative that his paintings conveyed, taking my time to study each painting as I walked through the rooms.

That’s not to say that I didn’t enjoy Andrew and James’s art, as well!

I remember being particularly mesmerized by the paintings Andrew had done of his muse and neighbor Helga Testorf, which were in their own wing and packed with other viewers. A lady being painted naked (and a whole lot) as she got older by someone who was clearly fascinated (or as he would later say— ‘enamored. Smitten.’) beyond cool to MTV-raised Elayne. (Remember, these were the early Madonna years.)

Without my mom to shoo me out, I spent a long time in those rooms, too, imagining what I might look and feel like when I was grown and had boobs and—surely!—somebody regularly painting me. 😂 (Thank you, Helga! I’m so glad I saw your paintings before I knew of the existence of girly mags and instead saw the height of sexy female imagery as a 30s-to-40s-aged woman who was clearly comfortable in her skin, by someone who obviously loved her.)

I also enjoyed James’s portraits, which were often humorous (the pig and pumpkin head self-portrait, below, serve as fine examples).

Other memories I have from the day are less clear, but it was a big enough deal to me that I’ve held onto the pamphlet all these years. Here it is—yet another example of my incurable meaningful-papers attachment syndrome.

I have one quip—and it’s a pretty major one—about this formative-to-me exhibit, and it’s that the Wyeth women artists were left out (I only recently realized there WERE female artist Wyeths!). Instead, women in this art exhibit were presented as either solely wives or muses—whose major contribution was either being painted, ignoring their husband’s painting of naked neighbors, or, most importantly, bearing artist-male children. While I don’t think it was intentional or the exhibit’s ‘job’ to explain to Little Elayne that needn’t be the case for HER, under these circumstances, it wasn’t illogical—despite loving the art presented—to leave the exhibit imagining myself as having a future as a model, rather than a painter myself. And that is really pretty sad.

Your “Wyeths and wherefores” friend,

Elayne

My posts are always free, but my focus isn’t; if you found this post interesting or useful, please consider ♡’ing it, so I know. Thank you!

So, while what—or who—I give attention to can be all too easy to leave on autopilot, it’s really quite crucial to regularly center my intentions1, particularly as I evolve as an artist and a human.

Do my current concentrations still inspire me to be a better creator, expressing something authentic in a messy world? Do the works I study genuinely help me contextualize the ways I most want to process and present my creativity2?

How you cultivate your mind garden matters. And just as you can hone your work, you can similarly choose to grow in new ways by evaluating your current regular inputs—and purposefully mixing some up, as needed!

Yet, it’s surprisingly easy to…not? To instead look at whoever and whatever you always have, as if they define your taste (instead of YOU defining it?).

For example, I’ve always enjoyed picture book illustrations (and, therefore, picture book illustrators)3. Still, as I work on my line art, I should also pay much more attention than I have been to graphic novel, illustrated chapter book, and comic creators across the board—particularly those whose techniques or styles I find especially inspiring.

What does your creative heart currently most need? Which works give you your best ideas and energy? Who is making that which ignites you as a creator (not just a reader or as an ambitious person who wants to be seen as literary—whatever that even means)? Who are forging intriguing puzzles you aren’t quite sure how to put together?

Too: who inspires you, on a human level? Who conducts themselves in ways that you most aspire to emulate? This is a tricky one, because we so often find ourselves looking to role models with strengths and flaws similar to our own, almost like, “how do THEY handle the issues both of us have?” 😂

And yet: we could…not? Instead, we could look to those with strengths in our weak areas and push ourselves to grow beyond the pot we’re otherwise rooted in. With a growth-focused mindset, we could focus on who reminds us to be the best versions of ourselves, Jiminy-Cricket-style, who makes altogether different choices than we might otherwise instinctively see: whether through advocacy, community involvement, or even just quiet humbleness.

To wit: though I always appreciate excellent storytellers, I could learn even more from excellent storytellers who are also engaged listeners—if I make an effort to identify them as being particularly useful for me to absorb lessons from. Just one example—but a crucial distinction, when one’s eventual goal is to foster a certain level of connection, not just an audience.

A muse can come from anywhere, and maybe, upon reflection, some of what you already most admire, you will simply appreciate in additional ways when viewed through your current needs. (If so, great! I have certainly found this to be true, and so lovely when it is—now I have even more and/or newly resonant reasons to adore them!)

Still, it behooves us all to remember: sometimes we need to venture outside our own studio, our IRL friend network, and sometimes even our ‘era’ to best broaden our perspective and our creative toolset.

The good news? We’re truly so lucky on all kidlit counts—with always MORE to explore. Not that other creators are perfect, or should be put on pedestals and expected to be anything other than thoughtfully human, but the unfortunate downsides of the industry—the feral unpredictability, the relentless (even if joyful) work with low and erratic pay—dictate that children’s literature is remarkably chockablock with more-than-suitably inspiring folx, even while running mostly on good vibes and philanthropic fumes.

Regardless of who or what these are for you, identifying which uniquely edifying lights bring out your best can help you envision exciting paths forward—and perhaps even your next, hopefully more courageous, step(s).

Your “doing my best to ensure my journey leads me where I truly most want to go—as a creator and a person,” friend,

Elayne

My posts are always free, but my focus isn’t; if you found this post interesting or useful, please consider ♡’ing it, so I know. Thank you!

Well, you are in luck! Here’s a virtual tour of my first-ever illustration portfolio, which I shared at the in-person SCBWI Western Washington “Together in Story” conference on Saturday. :) Of course, being kidlit, everyone at the conference I took mine to was super nice and supportive.

Still, as I mentioned in the video, it’s super hard to find “first-time portfolio” examples—BECAUSE one’s first portfolio (really, any, but especially the first) is so fraught-feeling, people don’t usually share them online at all! (And, you know, maybe for good reason. 😂) However, that sure doesn’t help when you are a newbie getting ready to go through this process—it’s really, really hard to know what you are even attempting!

However, if I have one Substack brand, it’s earnest-sometimes-to-the-point-of-cringe humor. :) So, let’s do this thing! And we’ll learn a bit, together.

One caveat—while it is ridiculously hard to find pictures, etc. of real first-time portfolios, there ARE some really useful guides online from some pros, and these are the ones I kept going back to time and again whenever I got anxious. (So the tabs are still open on my browser, ha ha!) Maybe you’ll find them very helpful, too!

• Rebecca Green on “Building an Illustration Portfolio”

• Kaz Windness’s “Portfolio Checklist”

• The 2026 SCBWI Winter Conference Showcase overview page was the best place I found to “see” what the whole event set-up typically looks like

• This Field Guide from SCBWI Michigan was useful, and had some specifics that were hard to get elsewhere; also, this write-up by Reagan Lehman was also helpful in terms of what happens at an SCBWI Portfolio event, especially within the context of the big NYC conference

• If you like the idea of doing a “Things I Like to Draw” overview piece, I found this one by Cynthia Cliff particularly inspiring

Two clarifications I should make, post-video:

1. My portfolio doesn’t BEGIN to show all my stories (I have….like, way too many manuscripts). What I meant there is that I exclusively used my own story material to illustrate, and I’m especially proud of that—because it’s a way to honor, and build off of, the hard work I’ve already done in the writing space.

2. 15 pieces really means 15 images…but only sorta. One thing I learned is that while typically each image counts as an image, there are exceptions. For example, a whole page of a graphic novel counts as one image (otherwise, graphic novelists may only get to show, like, two pages). Similarly, vignette or spot illustrations work the same way—if they would live on the same page of a book, that gets counted as “one” image for the purpose of a portfolio showcase.

Update: I put some of the ones that I got the best feedback on (though I should add—I was very lucky and got a lot of great feedback! Thank you, everyone!) on my site (admittedly with weird watermarks, and lower res) at elaynecrain.com/illustration/.

Anyhow, I hope this helps someone else feel a bit braver—good luck to you, friend—you got this!

Your “portfolio investment” friend,

Elayne

My posts are always free, but my focus isn’t; if you found this post interesting or useful, please consider ♡’ing it, so I know. Thank you!

Dear Friend,

Ten (plus) things to remember as “pros” when weighing them against the cons of the month.

• I’m now convinced this is exactly how the mammogram machine happened1.

• Thank you, American Library Association, for putting my spending in perspective.

  

• Similarly, every time I weigh deactivating my Nextdoor account, someone posts something adorable like this:

  

• I lived in New London, Connecticut,2 for two years, and this checks out.

• For more state-based humor3, I never tire of this under 3 min. supercut.

• The Little Engine that Should

• “Location, location, location!”

  

• Spotted by my SIL, Becca, who (correctly) surmised I would enjoy it. :)

• Actual film footage of me earlier this week—WRAPPING UP MY VERY VERY FIRST ILLUSTRATOR PORTFOLIO (using eight of my never-before-illustrated manuscripts, including one that I illustrated FULLY—the whole book—because life is short4)! Anyhow, come read the premiere of my first fully-made-by-me book, “One Kid’s Favorite Sandwich,” at Together in Story this Saturday!

• Thanks to NASA’s Landsat site, I can’t help but think of all the facial tats the Earth has.

  

• Bonus: Read my ridiculous interview—and comment to be entered to win one of two giveaways—by May 19!

Sad note: I don’t earn any commission on what I highlight in this newsletter.

My Substack posts from this month were:

• 📌 State Lists (the Good Kind!) - With thanks to Florida librarians, educators, and students! (🎉 “There’s Something Odd About the Babysitter” was selected as one of ten picture books on the Sunshine State Young Readers Awards Junior Book list for the 2026-27 school year! 🎉)

• 📌 Douglas Adams and “Last Chance to See” - I love author readings, and it probably all started with him!

• 📌 DIY Dip Pens from Sticks and Twigs - Cheap and easy are undervalued traits (spoken like a craftsy Mae West)

And two old posts that are unsteadily holding up the wraparound porch:

• 📌The Rank and File of Manuscripts - Placing (and naming) your work files so you can play and revise without worry

• 📌The Affirmative - Do you use daily affirmations?

  

I love stop animation, needle felting, AND Phoebe Wahl’s work, so naturally, this “under 10 minutes” break was right up my alley.

This month’s music video is courtesy Project Hail Mary, but what I most enjoyed about it was being reminded of having this exact dream—ha ha, not of Harry Styles; of levitating around various landscapes (but not Supergirl-style—like I was wearing an invisible jet pack). It’s rare for me to have recurring dreams, but this one I’ve had throughout my life, so it’s fun to see it rep’d!

Weird Elayne TV this month was the 2016 show Flowers, which I had never even heard of when the TV suggested I might enjoy watching it on Prime. Because apparently streaming software is “onto me” these days, it was dark—and also centered around the broken (in many ways—mentally most of all) family of a depressed author-illustrator, plus his newer illustrator. It doesn’t sound very funny when I say it like that—and it wasn’t VERY funny?—but it also wasn’t quite as dark as I’m making it out to be, either? It’s like the dark parts of Fleabag—they kinda grow on you, even while you cluck, “Oh, dear! WHY! NO, DON’T DO THAT!” Anyhow, I am not sure if I loved the show (I was really, really worried about Shun—his situation was very hard to watch). Still, I did find it riveting in the way The Wire was, and the series finale (which comes at the end of Season 2) was beautifully gutting. Well, I think it was; I’m actually not sure if it was “real” or not. Anyhow! If you watch it, it’s another one I’d love to chat about!

One interesting sidenote: even though the fictional Maurice Flowers’s “The Grubbs” books are fictional (in every sense of the word), they are important to the plot; hence, a real-life illustrator landed the commission to imagine them for the TV show. You can see some of that art, by Staffan Gnosspelius, here.

Your “bummed that nothing by Maurice Flowers is coming up on Goodreads, as I collect fictional Goodreads books in my Currently Reading column” friend,

What a lovely gaggle of lovely picture books for our silly-mystery-with-a-twist to be in! Thank you, Florida librarians, educators, and young readers, for the honor, which truly delighted me (for reasons I will share below).

But first…a bit about the GOOD state lists1 and awards.

As a newbie published author, I am still figuring a lot out! But this is what I’ve gleaned.

First: there are a LOT of state lists—not just fifty of them, either! (My current home state of Washington, for example, has eight different lists.) This Vanderbilt University-run Overdrive site tries its best to keep track of them, and, for example, if you select “Florida” from the drop-down, you get:

So, even within Florida, there are many different age groups of lists—we happened to make it to the first this year. :) Which is really cool for several reasons!

• Having the backing of educators is obviously an ego boost (ha ha), but at least this kind of ego-boost is for a good reason: teachers and school librarians REALLY know their books—and kids!

• As silly as the story is in terms of plot, I worked quite hard on it—especially the emotional narrative—because I truly hoped that tackling tough topics (among them: imposter syndrome, kindness, wariness, extending welcome, choosing empathy, politeness but also opening up/being honest in tactful way)—through relateable humor would create a natural springboard for important and nuanced conversations between kiddos, and between kiddos and adults. So, it’s so nice to hear others have found it to be so!

• Likewise, it’s really cool to see that now the book is starting to garner some teacher-made resources, too! So, if you go to a site like, you will see new resources being made for educators, now that the book has garnered some recognition as a tool in that space. (Wow!)

I want to emphasize while it’s nice to think of a state list as “marketing,” I actually think it’s far more awesome than that. Is it that the book is slowly but surely finding its audience? (If that makes sense?) It’s like this book baby is "grown” and out there, making its way on its own, through its own efforts? (Awww.)

Anyhow, how did OUR particular inclusion on the Florida list happen? I’m not actually sure; I just know we are tickled it did!

“The mission of the SSYRA Jr. program is to develop student interest in reading for pleasure by exposing them to a wide range of appropriate literature. Sunshine State Jr. books are selected for their wide appeal, literary value, varied genres, curriculum connections, and/or multicultural representation. Students are encouraged to listen to these books read to them, read them in a small group setting, or read independently to develop skills in fluency and comprehension.”

So, what I guess happens now (from what I can tell) is that students in K-2 all over Florida will be encouraged to read at least three books from this list; those who do will be able to vote for their favorite, etc., etc., and all those votes will be tabulated at some point in the year to decide on an overall State award winner.

However, as these things always go, the real winners are the kids, who are encouraged to read so many fun and interesting books, hopefully getting a pretty severe case of the Reading Bug in the process. Especially as a newbie, just being on the list is such a cool thing; it’s the first state list I’ve ever had the pleasure of being on, and I am just glad it’s the good kind!

As always, thank you (also!) to Feiwel & Friends at Macmillan (and esp. our editor, Kat, and our bonus editor, Foyinsi) for taking a chance on this humorous and heartfelt stack of raccs. 👦🏽+ 🦝🦝🦝= 😍

Your “stately” friend,

Elayne

My posts are always free, but my focus isn’t; if you found this post interesting or useful, please consider ♡’ing it, so I know. Thank you!

Look, I know there are many other fabulous sci-fi writers, including Andy Weir (who wrote the book we’d just seen on the screen), of course! No disrespect meant—two things can be true at once: there has never been a time when we had SO many wonderful, funny, and fabulous sci-fi book options…AND I also sometimes miss a particular voice in that “space.”

Still, suffice to say: there was something about the deep underpinning of achey sadness that nudged each Project Hail Mary funny moment (of which there were, thank goodness, many!) “AMAZE. AMAZE. AMAZE.” And I’m certain that part2 was what I responded to in my mind’s “witty words I’ve loved” walk-through back to Adams.

Too, it wasn’t just his books. The second aspect came as a jolt—despite assuming that (also beloved!!) writer David Sedaris had been my first “saw them doing their author thing at a real book event” experience—it finally dawned on me that, in fact, Douglas Adams was probably the very first author I’d ever ACTUALLY gone to an event for/met, upon later reflection? I mean, I had gone to many, many speaker events before3, where the speakers had written books on their niche topic of choice. But, forgive me when I say (because I do mean), he was the first real author-author4 I had met, and it was quite late in the game, especially for a college student—I was a junior by then!

Last Chance to See

I should set the scene. (Sigh.) The day: April 9, 1999.

Friend, I was VERY much a nerd—so much so that now-me, in all my awkward glory, still (somehow) seems a true Cinderella-style transformation. STILL—the student body stats at college, unfortunately, delayed that knowledge; it turns out that being a redhead in a pool of only 20ish% ladies in an undergrad body makes one feel just a little more popular, for a change. Compared to the cape-wearing, RPG-in-the-hallways, top-hat-and-monocle-steampunk-style nerdery I was surrounded by, surely I was just arty and misunderstood5.

I HAD read and enjoyed The Hitchhiker’s Guide and related books, and had certainly spent many, many frustratingly fun hours/days/weeks playing the text-only computer game of the same name. (You can play the 30th Anniversary edition of the game here, if you like—be forewarned: it’s a time-suck!)

Still, even then, I wasn’t certain this particular book event was quite for li’l ol’ me when I saw the poorly-printed “Don’t Panic”-style posters. For starters, it was on a Friday evening, and my boyfriend (now husband) was not yet a sci-fi fan6—nor were my girlfriends—so I’d ONCE AGAIN7 be ditching them all to do a strange, random “Elayne” thing on my own, before maybe hooking up (ha ha) later.

However, there was a small blip of text on that same poster explaining that Douglas would actually be talking about wildlife and a book I wasn’t aware of that he’d written with Mark Cawardine, “Last Chance to See.” Well! That settled it. The siren call of critter chit-chat could have lured me anywhere, even (in this case) if it was just to Rangos Ballroom.

Student body being what it was, I was used to seeing many a (excuse the phrase) sausage-fest-style queue, replete with the usual late-90s CMUishness: t-shirts spouting code, long (but unfortunately, unwashed) hair, and yes, the capes and top hats. Still, even I was surprised by this easily-99% fanboy, hundreds-strong line. It seemed certain tickets were long gone, but to my surprise, one was produced (maybe it was saved in case a girl magicked up, LOL)—ticket #465 for an auditorium that purportedly only held 450. Inexplicable good luck continued as I snuck into the back row and grabbed a precious open seat (sitting, as I always had to do as a vertically challenged person, with my own folded-up legs under me until they slowly-but-surely fell completely asleep and I stood up with horrible pins-and-needles).

But beyond my sleepy legs, what eventually unfolded was a super-engaging, hilarious, and touching talk with multimedia elements (a big deal at the time—film clips and audio from the old radio show they did sometime in the 1980s) about exotic creatures on the brink. Douglas’s passion for animals, adventure, and wit was obvious and contagious, ending with thunderous (well-deserved) applause and the happy buzz of community.

Even better, he was going to hang out and sign stuff (books, sure, but anything, really—he wasn’t at all picky), so while other students lined up to get their computers (yes, computers) and various bits of geekage signed, I happily bought a copy of the book from the University Bookstore, and waited in line.

And waited.

And waited.

But no one minded. No one at all.

What took so long was the same thing that keeps David Sedaris’s lines perpetually long—and what I see being true of many other greats I hope to someday have the chance to emulate. The waiting was simply a by-product of Doug’s affable and charming nature, in which each person who approached the signing table was treated as a long-lost friend. He seemed genuinely interested in connecting with anyone who wanted to. Even I, at the tail end of the line and much, much shyer to meet him than his big-time fans, was never rushed, even though he MUST have been exhausted by then. (Or maybe I assume so, because he was the same age then as I am now—heh.)

I wish I remembered more specifics of what we talked about, but I do remember how effortless it felt. Komodo dragons were definitely discussed, as was the fact that we had the same middle name (Noel). I told him I wished I had brought my books of his from home to get signed, too, and he signed my event ticket stub (and another someone had left on the table) so that I could have some bonus momentos, which was so kind of him.

In fact, he was so lovely, I also remember thinking next time he came through, I’d get a group together to go. Unfortunately, as you probably know, he died unexpectedly at age 49, two mere years later. So I never did get to see him again; it was a true Last Chance to See event, and I’m so glad I went.

As for the signed book, sadly (and I do blame myself for this—I had left it behind for my youngest brother to read, and if I had learned ONE lesson from my childhood, it was that I should have never left something I really cared about unattended), my mom got rid of it.

Luckily, I had kept the stubs with me; I gave the second ticket stub to my friend Kris (who was also a big fan), and I’ve still got mine (obvs.). Anyways, I know I am just one of many, many, many who still sometimes think of, and remember, him and his writing with a smile.

So, a belated thank you to Douglas Adams—for being himself, mostly, and sharing his particular sort of hopeful-yet-resigned humor with an increasingly cynical world—and also for being the very first to introduce me to the idea of author events as a genuinely fun and interesting thing to attend. (And now to get the privilege to do myself, from time to time. Who would have thunk?)

Your friend who says, “So long, and thanks for all the fish,”

Elayne

My posts are always free, but my focus isn’t; if you found this post interesting or useful, please consider ♡’ing it, so I know. Thank you!

After all, what more can one do with mere sticks and water, an X-Acto or box cutter1, ink, paper, and patience?

(Okay, okay, aside from going into the dowsing—or jailhouse-tattooing—biz.)

I first learned about these from author-illustrator Zoey Abbott in a small-group talk; it was really just an aside, but everyone there was immediately like, “WHAT? SAY WHAT NOW? YOU ALWAYS DO YOUR AMAZING LINEWORK WITH…WHITTLED STICKS?”

But before I get to how, though, let me answer, “Why?”

Let me put it on the line.

• Organic line variety (literally) - Handmade nibs are wonky—in the best way! The line is not exactly uniform, which makes them especially charming to use for organic objects like trees or anything that needs a bit of energy.

• Durability - I love a dip pen, but I seem to be quite hard on nibs2—and have broken many. 😬 In fact, the main one I use (a vintage metal one I call Betty that I bought at an estate sale years ago) is one of the super-rare sort that seems to take the Elayne bruntage reliably, and despite combing Etsy and Ebay, alas, it seems impossible to find another. Which is to say: I love that inevitably breaking these more fragile ones (tho so far, so good—knock on literal wood!) means only resharpening it, and I’m back on-line.

• Almost endlessly customizable - If you can carve it, you can rock it.

• Unique. So unique, you might as well name each—which is a fun bit that Zoey mentioned doing! Here are my dip pens’ names, in order of my favorites to use (at least so far).

  • Wichita Lineman (I can be an old soul, sometimes)

  • Lead Zeppelin

  • Brushy

  • Sliver/Checkmate (these are very similar, but I’m 100 percent certain I will break one, and soon)

  • Borderline

  • New Wave

  • Kentuck Knob

  • Bone

  • Javelina

So now…how?

1. Find your sticks. You can really use any, though most tutorials recommend bamboo (because of its natural built-in reservoir structure). I haven’t tried that yet, but I did try a variety of other kinds—most of which I could not identify even if paid—and all of them worked fine. The main thing is to consider its weight and size in your hand. For me, it was fun to start with a range; I figure I’ll learn by doing-and-using. #lifestylechoice

2. Cut and clean ‘em. You don’t have to go trim-crazy (I’d go 6-8 inches), since you’ll be cutting them down further still when you carve the nib; I used gardening clippers for the first snips. Go ahead and make the grip comfortable, too—remove little side-twigs, leaves, etc. TBH, I wasn’t going to bother cleaning them initially—until I had visions of dogs peeing on them; then cleaning seemed beyond sensible.

   

3. Soak in water for 15 minutes. This is not often mentioned in online directions, but Zoey said it makes a huge difference, and she was right. I forgot the first time I cut the nibs, and they definitely split more and were substantially harder to hone in a way I liked.

4. Carve the nib! Assuming you soaked—this is way easier than you think. For very thin sticks, you can actually use a pencil sharpener to get things moving; otherwise, use the X-acto to cut a chisel point. Once you have that, shave away the wood on the sides until you get the final shape you want. The hardest part (and in the future, I’ll break out a smaller X-Acto blade for this, as the box cutter was a bit harsh) is cutting the tiniest slit at the tip to allow for capillary action.

   

5. Drill, baby, drill (if you want). Optional: you can cut a reservoir above the tip—just carving a tiny little hole or slit above the main tip—but I didn’t bother, as I am used to dipping/redipping pretty frequently.

6. Test, Re-test and Finish. Testing and re-testing can take a while, but (luckily) they are super fun. Let’s face it, if you got this far, you are—and I say this with love—probably also a big nerd, so let yourself go wild, fellow dipstick. SMOOTH TIP TIP: for a very smooth tip, use a bit of sandpaper.

   

   

7. Maintain. Rinsing the pen tips in cold water after use helps keep the ink from globbing up; if the tip wears down or breaks, re-cut as needed.

Your dippy friend who inks too much,

Elayne

My posts are always free, but my focus isn’t; if you found this post interesting or useful, please consider ♡’ing it, so I know. Thank you!

1

Always cut away from your body and fingers, natch.

Dear Friend,

Ten (plus) things to chortle about as we try to occasionally forget humanity’s rules for decency keep devolving, à la Calvinball.

• Like giving candy to a baby <rubs hands like Mr. Burns>

• “First of all, I must thank the comb. And the brush! And my God, the bowl full of mush! My warriors. My champions.”

• I can’t believe this Danny DeVito pigeon I saw got so little online traction! Times really ARE dire!

• Me every day post-Easter, until my kids finally finish their candy:

• “Two things can be true” simultaneously

• For hepcatfights (and yes, I’m proud of that wordplay)

• Can we acknowledge the awesomeness of Ryan Gosling’s t-shirts in Project Hail Mary? I want all of them—and the cardigan, too! #unisexy

• If you need to fill this out, you’re sunk

• From the bird's POV

• I LOVE the whole idea of droodles (drawings + riddles)

• Bonus: Yaass, Joe! Talk about a one-man band!

Sad note: I don’t earn any commission on what I highlight in this newsletter.

We wrapped up our Comics workshop, and I don’t think I ever shared my final zine! The theme was “lost things,” and initially, I was working on something a bit too emotional, and it just wasn’t coming together. So, I gave myself a break, started fresh, quickly (as the deadline approached 😬), put together this one re: certain “arts” I’ve previously mastered, only to find them no longer useful (or possible). You know, things like stamp-licking, eraser clapping (at least for a few heady '80s years), and using a wax machine for newspaper layout. #hawt

Bonus: a gallery of mixed-media frogs from a mark-making and texture workshop. Turns out, frogs are very fun/funny to attempt in mere minutes on paper. :)

My Substack posts from this month were:

• 📌 My Sketchbinder and Sketchbooks - As the Living Color theme song sang, “You can do what you want to do (da-da-da-DA).”

• 📌 My Favorite Parts of the Jim Henson Exhibit at the Museum of the Moving Image - Hint: the foxy* ones (* where foxy means they are old papers showing their age, aka ‘foxed’ 📝👀)

• 📌 Phoenixing and My First Early Graphic Novel Pitch Package - Looking back at my first three months of letting myself burn (in the best way)!

• 📌 Fun In-Person School Visits (For You, Too)! - You guys: I just love them SO much!

And two old posts that seem relevant:

• 📌Eat That Frog: A Strangely Satisfying Morning Ritual - Nom, (”RIBBIT!”), nom, nom!

• 📌Writing is Choosing - Reminding myself to venture boldly (and carry a big eraser)

  

I love the Adventure-Time-ish animation vibes of this Cage the Elephant video:

Bonus: or, if you prefer Peter-Gabriel-style “purposefully-clunky-stop-motion,” the official video for Regina Spektor’s “Us” should suit.

“We all want to be taken care of; to be told we’re good little boys and girls; to be assured that, should we just follow the rules — listen, obey, trust, yield — then everything will be okay. We want surrender. We want blind faith.

But just as often, we want to be in control. We want to have power over our decisions; we want autonomy and independence; we want free will; we want to be the master of our own universes. We want freedom.

…what makes life so precious and so terrible all at once is the fact that we can’t have it all.”

— this bit of profundity was found (hilariously enough) in a Buzzfeed opinion piece on Fleabag

And what a ride that show was! I told a friend I felt like the Dread Pirate Roberts after every Season 1 episode:

— but when I popped up on the other side in Season 2, it was clear it was one of the more remarkable shows I’ve seen. Full disclosure: I (eventually) fell in deep love with her (also, each season only took about three hours to watch; #economical). Anyhow, ever since, I’ve been thinking about how the show team pulled off this magic trick in regards to the main character’s, well, character (especially in ways that only we see)—and how her complete candor with only us affects the watching experience—and how unusual the structure and themes are for television. Anyhoo, glad to talk Fleabag with anyone interested!

Your “remembering to sing in the lifeboats” friend,

As usual, I chickened out on buying a fancy (or even cheap) bound book as the vessel for my feral scribblings; there is just something about binding—even spiral binding feels a little TOO book-like, permanent, and daunting. So, instead, I decided to revert to what I did in high school for each of my subjects and chose an old-school three-ring binder that I bought a few years back.

Now, I draw on whatever paper I want—mostly cheap copier paper, though sometimes construction paper, cardstock, watercolor paper—even cut-down comics newsprint or brown-bag paper—three-hole-punch it, and pop it in the binder. :) If I create a page I later dislike, I can…just not put it in! Or, I can sit with it for a bit, and if it doesn’t grow on me, throw it out without having that “raggedy ripped-out-line/reminder of failure” that is a hallmark of previous sketchbooks I attempted. It also means I can reorder things to suit what I’m trying to do at the moment, which seems ever-evolving, especially as a newbie, and (best of all), keeping pages flat while making art is no problem, and painted pages are super easy to dry before storing.

In addition to my sketchbinder, I have started two other specialty sketchbooks that are not so much in the traditional sense (as they are used more like specialty project books rather than for day-to-day random drawings).

The first is this MEEDEN portable watercolor paper sketchbook I got as part of our monthly sketch group’s White Elephant exchange (score!); even then, I instantly got super nervous about what to use it for. 😅 Luckily, I had been thinking about putting together a compendium of bird haikus and illustrations (High Coos), and I figured this could be a way to get the ball rolling!

The second is in a free little watercolor sketch book as part of an art set I was gifted. It was too small to use for most ideas I had; however, once I realized the little sketchbook had 56 pages (which…is strange, right? But I did count twice!), I realized that it was basically set up for 26 spreads, plus one at the beginning and one at the end—perfect for an alphabet book of some sort.

Since I’ve been trying to make a concerted effort to work on both animal characters, and character expressions…<drum roll:…>

I had, fortuitously, also recently swapped a book at a Little Free Library for this Dictionary of Animals (which is really a sort of visual animal encyclopedia):

Now I flip through each letter, pick out two animals for the next two sketches, and get to work!

With two animal choices for each letter, I also figure that when it’s done, I can make my own alphabet print or poster (which should be fun). I love practice for its own sake, of course (especially when you are like me and really need it). Still, it’s even nicer when you see the possibility of some tangible, immediate (well, immediate after I’ve finished) benefits, as well.

What do you love doing for sketchbook-ery? Any favorite specific supplies? I find this sort of nerdery so interesting, for some reason! :)

Your friend who is “drawing a line right here,”

Elayne

My posts are always free, but my focus isn’t; if you found this post interesting or useful, please consider ♡’ing it, so I know. Thank you!

Last fall, I made a trip to New York, which was part book tour and part family trip, and one of the many fun side quests we took was to the Museum of the Moving Image out in Astoria. It was a great (and totally doable/not super huge) museum, and one of the exhibits was one we’d been wanting to see for a while: the Jim Henson Exhibition, which has items relating to The Muppet Show, Sesame Street, Fraggle Rock, The Dark Crystal, Labyrinth, and his earlier works, as well as some corporate stuff.

Regular perusers already know I score high in regards to “office supply, paperwork, and stationery fetish”—especially vintage papers. 😂 And this exhibit had a lot (*fans self*), including a few “Elayne huffed on the outside of the glass, practically” items like:

Of course, ngl, it was beyond fun to see/pose with the actual puppets, too…

Your “if you’ve been, what did *you* find fascinating?” friend,

Elayne

P. S. This was not technically part of the Henson exhibit, but I also spent an inordinate amount of time watching this spinning bit of art, which turned out to be a sort of stop-motion (in motion) piece. SO cool. It was super easy to walk past because it was tucked away in its own spot (and most people did walk past), so I just wanted to call attention to it so you won’t miss it if you end up there!

Here’s the placard about the work, “Feral Fount” by Gregory Barsamian. (You know I love a good informational sign.) Again, it was pretty badass to see in person.

My posts are always free, but my focus isn’t; if you found this post interesting or useful, please consider ♡’ing it, so I know. Thank you!

Here’s what that has come to, since January:

• The biggest thing: worked hard on my art—daily art practice, at least 1 hour (and usually much, much more). Honestly? I am shocked (and stoked) by the progress I’m already seeing, though it’s true I’ve never actually tried hard before (very sad to admit). I’m MOSTLY working on my traditional art skills (drawing and painting), because I love those things, and I also believe that deeply honed hand-eye-mind skills are necessary to create unique and voicey work in any medium. Having said that, I am also slowly learning Procreate to optimize my options for a given project’s needs, and I’m very much looking forward to getting into cut-paper-craft, as well.

• Attended a barrage of local area kidlit events, conferences, and workshops, each of them super interesting and useful!

• Continuing things like school visits, etc., to promote my existing book and to connect with young readers, teachers, and librarians. (Likewise, I was part of a group that applied to NCTE this year.)

• Barely, but slowly, considering agent submissions again, and even submitting a few.

• Revising a newly-drafted rhyming story I created, based on an R&R I received. I think it’s about ready to get critiqued. Of course, also working on many other stories — writing, revising, critiquing.

• And, in a very fun (but demanding) new area of focus: putting together a proper pitch packet for an early graphic novel I’ve been toying with for more than a year now, so that I could submit to the Kids Comic Pitchfest2 and get a proper critique of the project from a graphic-novel-specializing editor, since getting feedback of that type seems to be very hard to come by. And…here it is! We’ll see what they say, though I know I will learn a LOT as a novice; the critique won’t happen until April (even though the due date was in February). At any rate, here’s what I submitted!

Kids Comics Pitchfest 2026 Submission (Copy)

Elayne Crain
Author-Illustrator
Unagented

MOO & EWE: BARNYARD BUDDIES

MOO & EWE: BARNYARD BUDDIES is an early graphic reader about friendship and teamwork, with melodrama-humor tendencies, a cozy farm setting, and series potential.

Moo (a Scottish highland cow who likes a bit of back-up while adventuring) and Ewe the sheep (ironically, the bolder of the two) navigate how to share toys, spaces, and laughs while dealing with relatable kiddo “sturm und drang” like weather, loud noise, and (ugh!) waiting your turn. MOO & EWE follows the sibling-like friendship of the title characters as they build each other up while navigating big emotions and their innate physical and personality differences. While each chapter is a self-contained story, the stories and characters build over time.

Age Range:

Early Reader (approx ages 5-7)

Genre:

Animals, Fantasy, Fiction, Humor, Social-Emotional

Page Count Estimate:

64

My Why:

I have three primary concerns when I create. One: Do I relish this work, so it will be endowed with joy? Two: Will this brighten a child’s day? And three: Do I purposefully choose to believe this fiction, and why?

As a young babysitter with two younger brothers, and later as a parent, I’ve often been called upon to referee sibling disagreements and negotiate armistices. I choose to believe in Moo & Ewe’s fictional world for the same reason I believe in all kids, including my younger self: we need only check the news to see what a lack of camaraderie and curiosity can turn to.

Worldview disagreements are inevitable, but choosing to face them without empathy—and a healthy sense of humor—is not. Sometimes, silly is a serious help. 😊

Comp Titles:

For fans of the cozy antics of Vicky Fang’s BEST BUDDIES, the sibling-style dynamics (and barnyard aroma) of Aardman Animation’s SHAUN THE SHEEP, and the wordplay and enduring friendship of Ben Clanton’s NARWHAL & JELLY.

Elayne Crain

Elayne (she/her) is a proud creator of childish stories, and author of Summer ’25 Kids’ Indie Next pb, There’s Something Odd About the Babysitter, w/ John Ledda. She’s also a budding funny (meaning both peculiar + humorous) author-illustrator. Elayne earned her B.S. in graphic comms mgmt from Carnegie Mellon, where she twice spotted Fred Rogers and lost her mind—thankfully, she later recovered and earned her MBA. Elayne lives happily with her partner, sons, and coffee, in tree-filled Seattle.

So there you have it! Anyone may quibble with the quality of the results, I’m sure, but NO ONE can quibble with how hard I’m working, and how much I’m learning and growing. And that is super, super important to me—my entire goal this year, in fact.

Your “make it until you make it!!” friend,

Elayne

My posts are always free, but my focus isn’t; if you found this post interesting or useful, please consider ♡’ing it, so I know. Thank you!

The question is—do you naturally welcome undersized overlords?

Me? Well, I am definitely a Captain Kirk-type in this respect, and, in fact, spent a lot of my last school visit—which was to a local preschool—on the floor, happily surrounded by pudgy little hands and faces. Awww.

If this scenario—getting up-close with oodles of these amazing and strange little creatures, all of whom will simultaneously want SOMETHING from you (but each, a different variant)—causes a Jim-Brown-ready-for-the-fight response—#respect! That’s, of course, completely fine and valid—we each get (and lose) energy in our own unique ways, and it’s definitely not a book-creator requirement to do in-person school visits! (Plus—virtual visits are always an option!)

But if you think you might really like them, but are not doing them simply because you are NERVOUS, let me be the first to say: oh, goodness, do a few and see the benefits! :)

Here’s what I love about them, so far!

Preschool Visits - What I Love (For Me!) About Them

• Storytime Afficionados. Preschoolers, even the very youngest, KNOW the drill for storytime—and already adore it! No need to persuade or cajole!

• Analog-Preferred. It’s pretty easy to pull off a preschool visit in terms of supplies—because the classes are small by design, you don’t need to worry about, say, projecting the book or any tech aspects. All you really need is a copy of the book and some arts-and-crafts supplies (and even then, their classrooms will have basics like crayons sitting out).

  

• Just Want Your Attention. I find the best attitude to bring to preschool is a friendly demeanor and an ability to focus on the kids rather than the clock, because what they want is mainly personal attention. In fact, a BIG part of a preschool visit is building in time for each to (sometimes repeatedly) come up and show off their work throughout (and for you—justifiably—to fawn over it and encourage them), which I very much enjoy.

• Really Into Art, But Also Novice, So Encouragement is the Order of the Day. Which is funny, because boy, do I know that feeling, buddies! A lot of the toddlers wanted me to “do” the art for them, “I want a triangle!”—but my role there was to say, over and over, “YOU are the artist! You are going to do great! Remember, a triangle is just like this: <draws it out in the air a few times>-three little lines. You got this!” And they do!

• Natural Sharers. In fact, on Friday, one of them took me by the hand to see the class’s art portfolios on the other side of the room—like I was an art director or something. 😂 So stinking adorable. ❤️

• Costume Fans. Maybe wear a little something fun! They’ll definitely notice.

Elementary Visits - What I Love (For Me!) About Them

• Storytime is More Special. Whereas preschoolers have daily storytime, that’s not always the case at elementary school—and they are old enough to realize an author and/or illustrator visit is a pretty special, and treat it as such. You can, too, by really performing—doing the voices, all that. They’ll love it.

• Tech Allows You Some Fun Options. In a scenario where you are reading to 100+ kids, yeah, you’re going to want to prepare (at a minimum) to show the book as spreads on-screen, so that the kids in the back can—particularly if your book, like John and mine, has very detailed art. But “having” to prepare a slideshow also gives you a chance to really interject some personality! My slideshow, for example, includes audience-response questions and pictures of me at every grade level I present at (bad 80s hair and all), as well as some terrible (but beloved) art I made around their ages—and the kids really connect with that part of the presentation! I also sprinkle in a few raccoon .gifs (which they adore), and have a special video of three raccoons caught on our home security camera that I show, if time allows.

• Analog Can Be Interactive, Too! With elementary school kids, you can easily harness their creative zeal to build a character or a story together, for example. And, if you bring whiteboard pads of paper, you can also leave behind the creations you created, as a special school-wide souvenir. The best part? You can road-test story ideas in real-time!

  

• Interesting (and Often Insightful!) Questions! Unlike preschool kids, who mostly want attention, older kids (mostly) want INFORMATION from you. It’s an opportunity to think on your feet, while keeping things honest and positive. And more often than not, you’ll be thinking about something one of them noticed, said, or told you, long after the fact.

• Encouragement Is (Still) the Order of the Day. Some of these kids, sadly, have already decided they “aren’t good” at writing or visual art. You have a unique opportunity to (truthfully) tell them otherwise, which can feel pretty special!

• Fast-Moving. As opposed to preschool, the clock is SUPER important during an elementary school visit—they have such set, specific schedules! But because of that, the pacing will help you maintain your energy throughout, and the day will be over before you know it.

• Also Costume Fans! Not unlike toddlers, elementary school kids are still very much into clothing choice, and will even notice small things, like earrings!

  ---

  Some older posts I’ve done that relate to this topic:

  • Building an Author Event Kit

  • My First School Visits!

All to say: there is a LOT to love about in-person school visits, and I think the only way to know which parts you most adore is to do as many as you can, and get a feel for how you feel afterward (and why), iteratively—just honing and adjusting until you feel really comfortable and “in your element.” When you are having fun, the kids will, too.

In my case, it was really lovely to know that not only did the kids enjoy them, but I genuinely did, as well. And so, I’m excited about the elementary ones I have coming up this month and throughout April!

Your “getting schooled is the best” friend,

Elayne

My posts are always free, but my focus isn’t; if you found this post interesting or useful, please consider ♡’ing it, so I know. Thank you!

Dear Friend,

Ten (plus) things to build us up, buttercup.

• All-too-common story problems, “solved.”

• Including my own comic in this list, because around here, I’M THE EDITOR.

  

• When bridging your career gap means sitting under it

• Related: another career option I’ve considered

• This concert photographer/videographer had me at “pigeons but shoot it like a hardcore show.” #missionaccomplished #idbuythisalbum

• If you liked the Schitt’s Creek “just fold it in, David” scene, you’ll love these super-specific instructions on engaging your core.

• Ruh-roh, someone figured out my top cybersecurity trick

• Two and a half years before I was born, my parents had a cat (I assume for practice). Here is its baptism certificate, and I think how they filled it out is a pretty good explanation of my sense of humor and upbringing.

  

• So, this is TOTALLY safe for work or home—I promise—but one of my favorite Reddit subs is called “power washing p0rn,” i.e., before-and-afters of power-washed surfaces. Check this baby out. (Yeah, I’m a freak.)

• I already have big plans this summer, if you feel the knee’d to join.

• Bonus: I enjoyed this piece on the similarities between creating art and falling in love, esp. this line: “You create illusions together, and discover which of them are true.” Aww.

Sad note: I don’t earn any commission on what I highlight in this newsletter.

I’m sending this newsletter from the midst of the Western Washington Children’s Literature Conference in Bellingham, Washington, while being inspired by compelling creators like (in order of presentation): Eugene Yelchin, Natasha Triplett, Sophie Blackall, and Phoebe Wahl. (Wow, right?!?!) Anyhow, one of the treats we’ve enjoyed is easy to share with you—it’s 13 minutes, and worth every second. (Needless to say, I bought this book—along with MANY others. 😬 WHEN DOES IT BECOME HOARDING?)

My Substack posts from this month were:

• 📌 Welcome to My Unasked-For (Was)TED Talk on the Finder Points of Oscar the Grouch - And why he’s an Oscar winner, IMHO (in my harrumphing opinion)

• 📌 “It’s Off to the Principal’s Office I Go…” - Young MC (and Also Me, One Time) - Passing notes and cracking jokes go on your permanent record--when you write about them, at least

• 📌 Zinework and Comics - “Zine and B Zine”

• 📌 The Dearness of a Snort - Spit takes welcome (though mind the laptop)

And two posts whose batteries are somehow still good:

• 📌The Objective Correlative - Not as scary as it sounds, turns out!

• 📌Why DO We Reread Books? - I don’t have the answers, but I do have some thoughts.

  

This “oldie but goodie” video is especially visually compelling to me. Is it the theme of the song—or is it the “stop animation meets zoetrope” style? I don’t know—I just know I love it.

This year has already been such a growth time for me, and a strange mix of feeling inevitable—and yet, so delicate. I think maybe that’s why when it came time for me to make—something!—during a recent art group time, I found myself making this joker. I think this is the crow I needed to see, a puzzle of an expression that means something slightly different to me each time I see it.

Related, you know how one moment in time can contain multiple truths? I have had a month not unlike that—and feeling both of these things, in equal measure.

You know those hamsters on a wheel videos, where the whole understood premise is that the hamster is running, running—and you just KNOW the poor thing is about to be flung out, but all the same, there's that tension when it misses that first step and starts to, you know, kind of FLAIL around the wheel for a minute? Like, the question is not IF the hamster is going to get flung…but when, and how long will it take it to recover?

Well, I have felt like that part of the hamster video all month so far. I haven't been flung (yet), but I'm "running" quite erratically, trying to decide if I can just slow down, or if I should let the wheel keep turning until it decides for me.

—Me, responding to a friend’s post (slightly edited here for clarity)

AND, also…

“I don’t sit around waiting for passion to strike me. I keep working steadily because I believe it is our privilege as humans to keep making things. Most of all, I keep working because I trust that creativity is always trying to find me, even when I have lost sight of it.”

— Elizabeth Gilbert, Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear

Your “wanna-be bouquiniste—but instead, doing what her heart demands” friend,

Yes, yes, Jonas Salk. Of course. And, yes, Malala. Sure—okay, yeah, and now I’m hearing a lot of shout-outs to teachers (and we love teachers!)…but I’m going to stop you there, because I wanna talk about this undermuppet—this sustainability lifestyle guru—this absolute ICON:

I am not sure how steeped you are in this bitter fuzzmeister’s lore, so let me hit some highlights:

• He was one of the first characters conceived for Sesame Street. Jim Henson credited the name and personality of Oscar Karp, the “magnificently rude” owner of Oscar’s Salt of the Sea restaurant, apparently a regular haunt of Henson and “The Monster at the End of This Book” genius Jon Stone.

• Monsieur Grumpypants (what I would call him, if I ever met him, in my veree bessst Fronch aksont…) acts as a much-needed foil to, well, everyone else in the neighborhood.

• He lives in a trash can by choice, and this isn’t any regular trash can, either (more about that, below).

• He’s not above calling people names, and in fact, he loves to coin nicknames for other characters. He has referred to Elmo as a “little red menace” on several occasions; other gems include Crumb Face (i.e., Cookie Monster), Overstuffed Canary (Big Bird), and more—but he also likes to use the more generic Sweetheart and Smartypants (alas, often derisively—which I’m not on board with, fwiw).

• There are three things I absolutely adore about his character design. One, his lack of nose—the perfect evolutionary trait for a gentleman of the roadside. Two, that unibrow—never has one looked SO GOOD on a face (outside of Frieda Kahlo, who somehow managed to make one look both good and sexy—sorry, Oscar, she whipped you soundly on that second point). Three, green just perfect for the MOST committed of the reduce-reuse-recycle types (though he started out a different color—see below!).

Here is what I love about him and why I think he’s such an Oscar winner:

• Charming as hell—BECAUSE of his quirks. Oscar is a grouch, through and through, but that doesn’t mean he’s not often charming or witty, or a vibrant part of Sesame Street. His general lack of cheer isn’t a trait he needs to change because he doesn’t “belong” due of his behavior or personality—he belongs simply because he IS a member of the community.

• Grounded, trashy magic. Oscar’s trash can is one of the first instances where—well before seeing Mary Poppin’s magic carpet bag, or reading about the Wardrobe to Narnia or Hermoine Granger’s handbag’s Undetectable Extension charm—as a very young child, I understood the joy of imagining an item that contained visitable-but-hidden worlds (in Oscar’s case, his trash can contains not only a swimming pool and piano, but also his pet elephants, dogs, cats and so forth, his worm friend Slimey, and the entrance to several tunnels, plus Grouchland). As I have a manuscript I’ve been playing with that plays with this idea, I can’t say it didn’t spark my interest—then, and now.

• Creative. I don’t think he gets the kudos he deserves for seeing the beauty—and reuse potential—in every bit of detritus; it’s not JUST that he’s gross—he’s also the epitome of resourcefulness. (Then again, this is coming from a lady who loves mudlarking and also used to somewhat compulsively pick up random stuff off the ground as a kid.)

• Free spirit. Like (or don’t like) him, his lifestyle, or his choices? He cares exactly zilch—no matter what. He’s a lot like early aughts rapper Lady Sovereign in that way, and while you may not want to room with him, he’s also not the worst role model because of it—I mean, he’s not going to tell some girl to “smile so she looks pretty,” is he?

• Loveable. At least, his grouchfriend Grundgetta thinks so—not only that, they are both a couple and one another’s best friend—because they like to complain about the same things. (Aww.)

• Boundary guru. As a chronic people-pleaser in intent (as, ironically, I’m probably not actually very good at it), I have to say, I’ve always admired Oscar’s firm boundaries, something that my hyperactive brain doesn’t always fully allow me see as an option (though I’m trying to work on that—sigh).

• Cross-border appreciation. As proof, I’m just going to need to cut and paste this delightful read directly from Wikipedia. (And is it just me, or does the Mordicus version from 1, Rue Sésame—you know, outside of the ‘living in a trash can’ thing—sound like someone everyone would immediately want to hang with? 😂)

Finally, not even a Substack post can contain Oscar’s multitudes. He’s not JUST a grouch after all—caring well for his pets, for example, helping when he’s so moved, and not letting his being a grouch keep him from singing (at least, on occasion).

Thank you for your time and applause, and—now, please…

SCRAAAAM!”

Your “I love trash!” friend,

Elayne

P. S. How much do I love Oscar? Well, this is what I dressed my first-born in, so…

My posts are always free, but my focus isn’t; if you found this post interesting or useful, please consider ♡’ing it, so I know. Thank you!

With all the thinking (overthinking) I’ve been doing about kiddo Elayne, there’s been one area that seems quite pertinent to childhood, that I hadn’t thought about all that much, until recently.

Namely: what did I get in trouble over?

Obviously, what one gets “in trouble” for depends on who is in charge of that person (and how observant they are—ha ha). In my case, initially, my dad stayed home with me during the day and was both very permissive and (understandably) distracted by his new foray into medical school. Later, though, when my mom switched her nursing shifts, she became the “who,” and that was quite a change for me, because she was both extremely observant and keen to mete out consequences to rein me in. Which is only to say: by preschool age, it had become VERY rare for me to get in trouble outside the house. In fact, I quickly became pretty cringe/teacher’s pet because: 1) I adored any positive adult attention, and 2) I was simultaneously super-scared of anyone reporting unsavoriness back to her.

Which means…when I got in trouble, it was almost always for something I couldn’t help but NOT do—namely, writing and passing notes (which was the thing that eventually did send me to the principal’s office one time, to my horror)—or cracking jokes (which I only got in trouble for when the teacher didn’t like the joke).

Exhibit A:

That wasn’t all that I couldn’t help trying as a kid, of course. Here’s a partial list of things I definitely, definitely remember doing (sometimes getting caught, sometimes not).

• Telling people who called the house, when they asked, that my newborn baby brother was named Christopher1. (He hadn’t been named yet, but my campaign worked! #viralmarketing1980sstyle)

• As a 3-4 year old, climbing up on top of the china cabinet (RISKY! I remember it having glass shelves!) to snack on pieces of the gingerbread house I wasn’t allowed to touch, while whichever parent was home with me napped. Forbidden fruit tasted pretty good!

• I assume I ate a dog biscuit at some point—because how else would I know exactly what one tastes like? (Not gingerbread, I’ll tell you that. More like stale, kinda gritty cardboard.) I also know exactly what various coins taste like, somehow…so you do the math. (Yick!)

• Showing my friend Amanda the "How Babies Are Made" book my grandma got me, then throwing it under the house in a panic2 because I was worried I'd get in trouble for showing another kid without permission.

• I then lied about it, claiming I didn’t know where the book had gone.

• In general, I got in trouble for reading a lot of things that I wasn’t “supposed” to. Je ne regrette rien.

• Art-related trouble: this one definitely still is something I’m working through: we were poor, so I don’t want to villainize my mom fully here, but rather than getting creative with low-cost or free supplies, I would be given okay supplies but then criticized for “wasting” them on not-good-enough projects. In her (limited) defense, I think she truly believed that artists are born “gifted” (or not)—not forged through experiments—which I suppose is not uncommon among people who haven’t had the benefit of knowing many.

• Telling the school and anyone else who served me food that I was allergic to fish, just because I didn’t like it.

• Similarly, once we got a dog, I quickly began to feed her my fish sticks under the table. The first time I got caught, my mom got so mad, the dog got scared, too, so she and I became a sneaky team par excellence from that point on.

• I definitely practiced swearing when I was sure I was out of earshot.

• I don’t really remember stealing anything of value, but I would, like, pick up things I considered reusable trash and keep them. For example, if I found a safety pin or a plastic bit on the floor of a store, it was definitely going in my pocket. Same thing if there was a pencil on the playground, or something like that. #magpie

• Let’s just say: those redhead-worn cowboy boots weren’t going to kick themselves.

“In third grade, I cheated on my history exam. In fourth grade, I stole my uncle Max’s toupee, and I glued it on my face when I was Moses in my Hebrew School play. In fifth grade, I knocked my sister Edie down the stairs and I blamed it on the dog… When my mom sent me to the summer camp for fat kids and then they served lunch I went nuts and I pigged out and they kicked me out… But the worst thing I ever done? I mixed a pot of fake puke at home and then I went to this movie theater, hid the puke in my jacket, climbed up to the balcony and then, then, I made a noise like this: hua-hua-hua-huaaaaaaa — and then I dumped it over the side, all over the people in the audience. And then, this was horrible, all the people started getting sick and throwing up all over each other...” —Chunk, The Goonies

Your “all these years later, still looking for trouble” friend,

Elayne

My posts are always free, but my focus isn’t; if you found this post interesting or useful, please consider ♡’ing it, so I know. Thank you!

Last week I did the best comic I’ve managed so far in Jane Porter’s Comics class (an admittedly not-so-high bar), and the best part is that it was also much less laborious, even though I added a lot more detail. The benefit of regular practice, I guess! I really love the addition of graphite watercolor into my art—there is just something very intuitive about it.

Today’s prompt (which we always get the day of) was to create a List Comic, and since next we’re doing a zine, I figured I might as well try my hand at that to get a bit more format practice in. Especially given that I also turned this around in a few hours (which…might horrify some, but for me, fast), I’m relatively pleased—I particularly like the turtles, and the glow on the lightning bug. Plus, it was just plain FUN to make. (This is Side A: “Weird American Things I Missed in Oz”—see Side B: “Weird Aussie Things I Miss in the U.S.” below.)

Here’s a reading of how the thing “works” (though just Side A), if you are so inclined. Of course, now that the second side is done, too, I just flip the paper over and refold it, to make the “new” book.

Your “zine and be zine” friend,

Elayne

My posts are always free, but my focus isn’t; if you found this post interesting or useful, please consider ♡’ing it, so I know. Thank you!