Apparently I have over 13,000 photos in my Apple Photos Library. If only I’d started the monthly weeding and selecting years ago! I mean, who has time to sift, or even just look at thousands of photos in search of the gems?!

Happily though, my Lock Screen, customized to randomly change the photo there every hour, reminds me of some. A few months ago, it occurred to me that, since it would be hard to locate the originals, I could screen-shot them as they appear. Now, when I do my monthly weeding, I sort the  screenshots into their own Album so I can easily revisit them when I’d like to be reminded of experiences I’ve had or of creative editing I don’t indulge in as often as I used to (but maybe I should!)

A few screens that felt worth capturing when they popped up:

Sometimes I accept Apple’s suggestion for a group of photos to revisit. When I do, the time spent going down that rabbit hole is always satisfying.

How do you most enjoy revisiting photos you’ve taken long ago?Have you been reminded recently of a pleasing capture or edit that you’d forgotten about? What did it conjure up for you? How did it make you feel? How do you manage your digital photos? Please feel free to share!

This is a question I was often asked, back when I was meeting with kids in schools and libraries across the country. I told them, “I like to draw but don’t draw well enough to illustrate a book, so publishers hire artists they believe will do a good job.” Sometimes I added, “It took me thirty years to be able to write a book that was good enough to be published. (Red Is Best.) Maybe in another thirty years my drawing will be good enough to be in a book too.”

Well, those next thirty years have passed, and then some, I’m no closer to being able to illustrate a book than I ever was, and it has been a long time since I’ve indulged in the pleasure of drawing. I was reminded of this recently when I was decluttering a room in our basement and came across a large cardboard tube. Inside were pages and pages of sketches, finished drawings, and a few paintings I had done — at the cottage, at home, during classes I took at the AGO when I lived in Toronto, at Wyndham Art Supplies in Guelph, with an artist-friend in Kitchener, and with another artist in Elora.

As I unrolled them — page after page — my hands became dusty with charcoal and pastel chalk. Memories of the fun of applying these media to paper, of easels and of live models came flooding back. More than a few of my creations I quite liked. But what to do with them?

I don’t expect to live where I live now forever. Wherever I go from here will undoubtedly be smaller. It’s unlikely there’ll be space to spare for a big tube of art I might never bother to pull out again. None of what I’d found was something I’d hang on a wall. But throw it all out? Even the most ruthless declutter-er in me balked. I might want to look at it again some day, to remind myself of this chapter of my life.

A dangerous trap, that kind of thinking. It can lead to our keeping all manner of stuff and the longer we live the more stuff we accumulate. So I did what organizers helping people deal with their stuff often suggest. I took photographs of “MY “ART”” (as the big tube was labelled), then into the blue box went the originals — not, I confess, without a few pangs.

Months later, however, no regrets. That part of my life is not gone for having disposed of the physical evidence of it.

A recent blog post by another writer who has pursued an interest in creating visual art, Kristin Butcher — she’s very good — gave me the idea to showcase a few of my pieces here, just for fun.

By the way, the red table you see in some of the photos has also been decluttered. It went to a home where it will be used and much appreciated, instead of gathering dust in mine.

What’s something you had a hard time parting with? How did you bring yourself to do it? Please feel free to leave your answer as a comment! In the meantime, happy decluttering!

Many things that make my life enjoyable start up again this month, after the ‘quiet’ month of December: Just Sing choir practices, a new fitness class, and various duties as president of CANSCAIP. I plan to attend CANSCAIP’s Online Writing Retreat on the 10th and a Packaging Your Imagination conference planning meeting on the 11th, and to lead a monthly membership meeting on the 14th, and a board meeting on the 31st. I’ll also be emceeing and presenting at CANSCAIP’s Book Tastings at the OLA Super Conference on the 29th. (Thanks to the Ontario Library Association for having us back!)

The holiday I’ve taken from my writing while visiting with family and tending to house-related business has me now primed for a deep dive back into revising a picture book I’ve been working on and a collection of adult poems. I look forward to working with the helpful and encouraging feedback I’ve received from my usual writing group that consists of Nan Forler, Heather Smith and me, and a new connection I’ve made with poet Branka Petrovic.

AUGUST

Every two years IBBY (the International Board on Books for Young People) holds a conference in one of its chapter countries. Having so thoroughly enjoyed the excitement and camaraderie of the IBBY Congress in Athens in 2018, I immediately signed up when registration for the 2026 IBBY Congress in Ottawa opened up. It’s hard to describe what it’s like to be in a room full of children’s book writers and illustrators from around the world, all of us daring to believe in the capacity of children’s books to build bridges, as did IBBY’s founder.

Many stimulating sessions and informal conversations will take place in between, among speakers and attendees from across Canada and well beyond.

SEPTEMBER

Check out the Bibliography page of my website and you’ll discover that the past six years have seen the publication of seven picture books and one adult poem. One book features the woman who founded IBBY, Jella Lepman; one is about an outstanding Canadian scientist, Anne Innis Dagg, and another a world-renowned Canadian artist, Maud Lewis. CV2 will publish my second adult poem “After the Phone Call” sometime this year, in an issue yet to be determined. You might be surprised at how encouraging that one Yes — among the 50+ Nos I received in response to poetry submissions last year — has been.

Illustration by Mark Hoffman

If you were to think that by now I must be getting a bit blasé about having a new book coming out, you would be mistaken. I’m incredibly excited that Groundwood, a publisher I’ve been submitting to since the early 1980s, will, on September 1, 2026, be releasing an “Edward Lear meets Greta Thunberg” picture book. Title and cover reveal to come, closer to pub date. If you’d like to be among the first to see it, please subscribe to my blog!

Wishing you many happy moments in 2026!

A writer/illustrator/publisher sends a book out into the world. When sales are no longer high enough to justify their taking up storage space in the warehouse, the publisher will declare the book out of print. (Rare is the book, like Red Is Best, that stays in print for decades — 43 years now and counting!)

Sadly, Harry and Walter — the story of a friendship between neighbours aged 4¾ and 92½, threatened when Harry’s family has to move away — was declared out of print early this year, nine years after it made its way into the world. Naturally, I was disappointed.

But a silver lining revealed itself to me this fall in the form of a message from a grandmother. Her grandson (Harrison aka Harry) had borrowed Harry and Walter from his school library. The title had caught his attention because his school-bus driver’s name is Walter. “Walter also,” Harrison’s grandmother wrote, “just happens to be an older gentleman.” She wanted to buy the book for her grandson but couldn’t track down a copy. Could I help?

As it happened, I had one copy left in my closet. I said I would send it to her — as a gift, because I simply couldn’t imagine a better home for it. She was grateful. “I am sure that your book will be read hundreds of times,” she said. She also described Walter the school-bus driver as “one of a kind. We have never encountered such a special and caring person in that role.”

Do you not just love the photo of Harrison aka Harry and Walter that the boy’s grandmother sent me? I’d likely have never seen it, had Harry and Walter still been readily available.

I thank Harrison aka Harry’s family for permission to share the photo with you. I hope it warms your heart as much as it does mine.

If you happen to be a creator of books, especially books for children, I hope you enjoyed this reminder of how much our books may be loved, long after we’ve finished working on them, and even after we’ve received the dreaded “With regret, we have to inform you…” message. If you have a heartwarming, silver lining story about an OUP title, please feel free to share it as a comment on this post.

Wishing you and your loved ones much happy reading over the upcoming holidays and into 2026!

This month sees the release of my 20th picture book, Levi’s Gift, which captures the beginning of a cross-generational, cross-cultural friendship between an old man and a young girl. It’s also about the healing power of music.

I’ve always had a soft spot for stories about friendships between children and old people, and although I’ve never played any musical instrument, stories involving music and especially violins have often moved me too.

So it’s no surprise that when I saw the documentary Joe’s Violin, it inspired me to write. I created two characters, Levi and Gabriela, who resemble in some ways Joseph Feingold and Brianna Perez, who are featured in the film, and wrote a story from the points of view of both Levi and Gabriela.

Like many of my manuscripts, it was turned down by more than one publisher before it occurred to me that it might find a home with Nimbus Publishing, located in Nova Scotia where fiddle music is much appreciated. Nimbus liked the story but wondered if I’d be willing to rewrite it, limiting it to Levi’s point of view.

I loved how the approach Nimbus suggested simplified the story, thereby sharpening its emotional impact. Thank you, Whitney Moran, for the suggestion and thank you, Claire Bennet, for helping me further fine-tune the text!

Thanks also to Ellie Arscott for so capably capturing in her illustrations what the violin meant to each of the characters!

Where Brianna Perez is now, I don’t know. I hope she has succeeded in her dream of becoming a music teacher. Joseph Feingold, I have learned, died of pneumonia and COVID in 2020. I hope he would have been pleased to know that his generous spirit lives on in Levi.

Soon after I became President of the Canadian Society of Children’s Authors, Illustrators and Performers, I wrote a post entitled “We Cheer Each Other On.” This post again features excellent books I’ve read recently by a handful of my CANSCAIP associates. Whether you have or work with youngsters or not, I urge you to check them out!

Boobies 

by Nancy Vo

(CANSCAIP’s Illustrator Rep)

I was a La Leche League leader back in the late 70s, supporting breastfeeding mothers while my daughter was a nursing toddler, and how I would have loved to have had this book to share with the moms in my local chapter and with her.

Who Needs the Dark? 

by Laura Alary and Risa Hugo

(Laura is a longtime CANSCAIP Member)

Packed with information about what darkness does for people and for different animals. Well structured with a pleasingly repetitive pattern. Language that’s both rich and accessible. Great for helping kids afraid of the dark view it instead with a sense of appreciation and wonder. Non-fiction in a cozy, reassuring wonder-filled package.

My Street Remembers

by Karen Krossing and Cathie Jamieson

(Karen is a longtime member and a past president of CANSCAIP)

The pacing of this picture book manages to emphasize how long Indigenous peoples were here before the settlers came, while at the same time being inclusive of those who came later and are still to come — a delicate balance, well handled. The focus on one street makes the scale of the subject manageable for young readers, and invites them to wonder about what their own neighbourhoods were like in the past, and what they want for them in the future.

Under Attack (Kidnapped from Ukraine #1) 

by Marsha Skrypuch

(Keynote Speaker at CANSCAIP’s Packaging Your Imagination conference this month)

Though fictional, this book personalizes horrors being experienced by Ukrainian children right now in a vividly informative way. Marsha does not shy away from the truth.

The Momentous Expiration of Tremmy Sinclair 

by Michael F. Stewart

(CANSCAIP’s Treasurer)

The combination of raunchy and tender works well in this novel in which the main character wants a medically assisted death, but he’s just shy of being old enough to qualify without parental consent. MAID is such an important subject and upper teens are lucky to have this book to help them think about it. Remembering my own interest in euthanasia as a teen, I know I’d have appreciated finding a book such as this.

Next month I plan to write about CANSCAIPers who haven’t yet been published. Or is that the plan for my “From the President’s Desk” column for CANSCAIP News? Maybe, like “Getting Along,” it will serve as both!

If you happen to be a Canadian author or illustrator of children’s or young adult books — published or aspiring — or a children’s performer, I urge you to look into becoming a member of the supportive and inspiring community called CANSCAIP. We’d love to welcome you!

Here — because not only authors and illustrators of children’s books are faced with the need and desire to “get along” — is an excerpt (minus an intro paragraph) from the column that appears in the Fall 2025 issue of CANSCAIP News. (Members and Friends of CANSCAIP can access online past issues going all the way back to December 1978!)

“Getting along” can refer to how we interact with others, as in “Do you and your sibling — or your cat and dog — get along?” It can also refer to how we are progressing with a project, as in “How are you getting along with the illustrations on your new picture book?”

Not long ago, a member of the large extended family I spend time with each summer introduced me to what he knew about Manito Aki Inakonigaawin — the Great Earth Law that has, since the beginning of time, guided the Anishinaabe in Treaty #3 Territory (where our cottage is located) in caring for the land and all who inhabit it. Within a toolkit that outlines how Manito Aki Inakonigaawin can be implemented are four guidelines for their discussions with governments and corporations around land use.

Although as writers and illustrators we are often working alone, I believe these instructions can help guide us through many professional situations in which we’re trying to “get along” with others — when we’re:

• offering or getting feedback from fellow workshop participants or writing group members;
• negotiating contracts
• discussing suggestions from an editor or art director
• making decisions in CANSCAIP board and committee meetings.

How do those guidelines apply in these contexts?

Take your time. Not every decision, or even every discussion, has to happen right away, or all at once. Sometimes it’s more productive to step back for a bit, and come back to a question or issue later, especially if it’s contentious.

Do it right. Not rushing is part of doing it right. So is practising the skills we learned in Kindergarten, if not before: be polite, share, take turns, say please and thank you.

Listen. Instead of coming to a conversation with an intention to get certain points across, try approaching it from a place of curiosity, a sense of being on a discovery mission — of “let’s explore this together, respectfully.” (Ian Williams has lots of wise things to say about this in his book What I Mean to Say: Remaking Conversation in Our Time.)

Don’t be afraid. Trust that together you will find a way to come to an agreement. This is most likely to happen when everyone follows the first three.

I try to follow these principles. Those who know me know I don’t always succeed. It takes practice and I will continue to try.

If we were sitting together, I could ask you, with curiosity, in a spirit of discovery, if you think these guidelines apply to our “getting along” with our creative work, and if so, how. I could respond and we could explore our ideas together. Since a column is rather like a one-sided conversation, I’ll just offer my thoughts.

Take your time. Let ideas simmer on a back burner like a stew you’re not in a hurry for. Allow yourself time to find flavours and textures that will make what you’re creating a truly original and wonderful concoction. Scribble around the project for a while to help avoid getting too set in your mind on what it’s going to be.

Do it right. Give each project your all, even when what you’ll earn (if anything) may not be what your work is worth. Your potential readers deserve the best you’ve got and you’ll feel more pride in what you create if you resist the temptation to take shortcuts at any stage of executing your idea.

Listen. Listen to feedback on your work-in-progress when it comes from knowledgeable sources you trust. Listen to the characters whose story you’re telling, visually or with words. And listen to your gut. If something is niggling as a concern, it’s easy to tell yourself ‘it’s probably fine.’ But that niggling feeling that something is off, very often, I’ve learned time and again, turns out to be right.

Don’t be afraid. If an idea occurs to you in a genre or style you haven’t worked in before, go for it! It might not work out for you, or it might work amazingly well. If someone suggests a direction that feels wrong to you, stand up for what you believe is right for your work, and trust that taking your time and listening will land you (in the plural) in the best place for the project everyone involved wants to succeed, in the marketplace and in the hearts and minds of your readers. If you feel the eyes of book banners peering over your shoulder as you work, ignore them. Keep your focus on the kids you know need the book you’re working on.

I wish you good “getting along” — with others and with your current project!

To learn more about Manito Aki Inakonigaawin, visit https://gct3.ca/environmental/manito-aki-inakonigaawin/mai-history/.

February is African History Month. June is Pride Month. April gives us two causes for celebration.

In honour of Autism Awareness Month, I offer this guide to internet safety for people with autism.

In honour of National Poetry Month, I suggest The Practice of Poetry: Writing Exercises from Poets Who Teach edited by Behn and Twichell, as a great source of inspiration for aspiring and established poets. The poem I had published in the fall grew from an exercise that began with reading “In the Waiting Room” by Elizabeth Bishop. (It bears no resemblance.)

In honour of both Months, I share with you an exercise from The Practice of Poetry in which I describe my grandson as a young boy entering a room. Maybe someday I’ll see if I can turn it into a poem.

HE STOOD IN THE DOORWAY

of the farmhouse parlour, barely taller than the doorknob, holding the tide clock, its face reflecting his blond hair, blue eyes beaming.

Nothing in the house he wasn’t capable of removing from its rightful — to the neurotypical — place: the handle off the wood stove, the box of tampons under the sink, the tide clock from the kitchen wall.

On the balls of his feet he stumbled into the parlour, gripping it tight with pudgy hands, saying his one-note No no no and something only his parents could understand.

I hope we can all be finding ways to celebrate poetry and autism awareness year round!

Image designed by Freepik.