How to write a children’s book
Even books for kids still need a thesis statement
Former librarians, teachers, and school counselors who also write have a treasure trove of experience to pull from:
Kids who are brave
Peer interactions that are poignant
Funny misunderstandings
A child’s pride in their own knowledge
Kids are hilarious and heartbreaking, and those who have worked tirelessly to witness and mold these minds (THANK YOU FOR THIS VOCATION) of course want to share their stories by writing a book for children.
Yet it’s also possible you’re simply a creative writer, with little-to-no experience with kids, who happens to want to craft a tale for these lil’ creatures. Or maybe, coming at it from a different angle, there’s a story you want to tell and you feel a children’s book is the best format in which to tell it.
Let’s talk through what you’ll need to know about writing books for kids.
Image courtesy Annie Spratt
What is a thesis statement?
I bet you didn’t think this was where we’d start. Well, the truth is that some people downplay books written for kids as easy to create. I’ve seen way too many “You can write a children’s book in 15 minutes!” social posts for my taste. (Also, there is no quality template for writing a children’s book. Gross.) This genre of writing deserves — and indeed requires — to be approached the same as any other storytelling project.
So, a thesis statement: This is a summary of your book’s message. A good thesis statement is concise and not a retelling of the plot.
Why is a thesis statement important in creative work?
It provides direction so the work doesn’t meander.
In We Do What We Do in the Dark by Michelle Hart, a university student meets with a professor who has published children’s books and finds it surprising that this is the genre where the professor has found success because “You seem so sophisticated and serious.”
The professor tells her, “It is not so easy. Many people I meet come up to me and say, ‘I once told my child a story and he loved it; should I publish?’ A lot of sophistication goes into making a book read so simply. … Children are fickle. They get bored and confused and lose interest easily. They look for any reason to turn their attention elsewhere. My trick is to deny them this.”
How do I figure out my thesis statement?
There are two ways to come at this:
You haven’t started your book yet but have a very specific takeaway you want for readers. Amy Webb, for example, started writing books about a child with limb differences after experiencing the world alongside her daughter. (Webb has a great piece here that covers her process.) Crafting your thesis statement at the outset makes for smoother writing because you have this thesis to return to when you feel your writing drifting off-topic. (Yet another reason I advocate for outlining.)
You’ve already written your book and are backpedaling to come up with the thesis. This is OK! You haven’t done it “the wrong way.” Some rewriting might be required so better hone your message, but I also think this is a good tactic in the revision process to bring your plot closer to the intended takeaway.
What if I want more than one thesis statement?
For children’s books, you want one thesis. What’s the one message you wish to impart? There are only so many words in which to convey this goal.
Do I need to write an outline, too?
You know how I feel about this.
(Or maybe you don’t; see here.)
What are the age levels for children’s books?
Though it’s easy to forget, if you’re a parent of a sticky toddler, “children” are actually people ages 0-18. According to Journey to Kidlit, there are six age groups that make up children’s book categories:
Board books (ages 0-3): 0-100 words
Picture books (ages 3-8): 150-1,000 words (There are outliers, of course, like JonArno Lawson and Sydney Smith’s wordless picture book Sidewalk Flowers.)
Early readers (ages 5-9): 1,500-2,000 words
Chapter books (ages 6-10): 8,500-12,000/20,000 words
Middle grade books (ages 8-12): 25,000-50,000 words (The commercial trade market prefers about 35,000 words.)
Young adult books (ages 12+): 50,000-75,000 words
What’s the difference between middle grade and young adult books?
Reader ages: As defined above, middle grade books are written for readers ages 8-12 while young adult books are for 12 and above. (Captain Obvious here: You don’t have to fall into these age ranges to read these books! I read tons of middle grade fiction myself and am a fan of Kate Milford, Kate Albus, and Trenton Lee Stewart, to name a few.)
Main character: Your target audience wants to read about a protagonist who’s a couple of years older than they are. For young adults, that main character can be up to age 18 but not in college.
Subject matter: The degree of maturity separates these categories. There’s no graphic violence or sexuality in middle grade books, yet you’ll often see these, in addition to profanity, in young adult work.
What topics are off-limits?
There are tons of beautiful books about so-called “hard” topics that I can attest to firsthand as being perfectly palatable and approachable for my young daughters.
Off the top of my head, some children’s books we either own or have borrowed from the library:
When Adian Became a Brother by Kyle Lukoff
Where Are You From? by Yamile Saied Méndez
A Family is a Family is a Family by Sara O’Leary
Something Happened in Our Town: A Child's Story About Racial Injustice by Marianne Celano, Marietta Collins, and Ann Hazzard
Fred Gets Dressed by Peter Brown
My Rainbow by Trinity and DeShanna Neal
Julian is a Mermaid by Jessica Love
My kids never fearfully ask questions or address the challenging topics in these books head-on. They’re much more likely to say, “I wish I were a mermaid,” “I like his earrings,” “Is that a bird or a handkerchief?” and “Rainbow is my favorite color.” Kids are so open and accepting. They really are the best.
What should I know about children’s attention spans?
There’s a natural limit to a child’s attention span that isn’t necessarily due to your compelling or boring book. That limit is 2 to 3 times the child’s age, according to clinical psychologist Rebecca Harvey. That means a 6 year old is capable of 12-18 minutes of focus at a time.
And then there’s the evil screen.
For both children and adults, screens are pulling their attention spans away from books. Maryanne Wolf, director of the Center for Dyslexia, Diverse Learners and Social Justice at UCLA, told NPR in April that since we have so much information thrown at us visually, our brains have learned to counteract it by skimming. It’s a defense mechanism typically done in a browsing F pattern, she said: “We sample the top, we sample the middle, and we go to the bottom of the screen.”
“We were never born to read,” Wolf said. “And that means that human beings don’t have, if you will, a place. They don’t have a genetic program for reading the way we do for language and vision and even affect. Everything has these genetic programs. It’s just not the way reading is because it’s an invention. It doesn’t exist in our brain. Rather, we have to learn it. And that means our brain has to make a new circuit.”