High in the sky, taller than the tallest buildings, lived Nimbus the Cloud.
For those of you who have read Pitter Patty Finds Another Day, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, That’s wrong. That’s not how it begins. You’re not wrong, except that really is how it began.
This is the origin story of Pitter Patty and how it came to be published.
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The electives offered during my senior year at John F. Kennedy High School depressed me. I had already exhausted all the art classes and I wanted at least one course in my final year to be fun. Then, I saw it. A creative writing class! This was it! This was what I wanted. The idea of spinning stories with my friends and fellow creatives sounded perfect.
Problem. The class hadn’t actually been taught for ten years. It was an artifact that no teacher had been assigned to and no other student was talking about.
I recruited a teacher who cautioned that there was just one catch, the class needed at least ten other students and we only had a week before registration. So, I approached my friends and canvassed the upcoming junior class. Between the drama club, D&Ders, and my friends, I found a handful willing to sign a petition promising interest. Okay, it wasn’t as easy as that, but by the time we lined up for class sign-up, fifteen wordsmiths signed up for the course.
I don’t remember much about that semester to be honest. I do kind of remember Mr. Holland’s idea of the class was much more structured than I hoped it would be. He even came up with a syllabus! One week, we were assigned historical fiction, the next- mystery.You get the idea.
Well, one week, we were tasked to write a children’s book.
Groan. Picture books are for kids! I wanted to continue to work on my fantasy epic, A Crack in the Sky. (Authors Note: A Crack in the Sky was brilliant and no you can not read it.)
So, despite a mini-revolt, we succumbed and began working on the assigned project. Because while writers are Prometheus bringing fire down from the mountain, teachers are Zeus, and Zeus tends to get what he wants. So, picture books! Yay!
My absolute favorite picture book growing up was Harold and the Purple Crayon. I just adored how drawing got Harold into and out of trouble and how a shaky line could become an ocean. So like Harold, I thought and scribbled and most importantly, I doodled (which is still one of my favorite ways of story-thinking.)
For some reason, I focused on the background. In my sketches, the background surfaced as the foreground. I wasn’t interested in the people living in the houses or populating the forest. I wasn’t at all curious about who dwelled in the mountains or skyscrapers. Instead, my fingers wanted to stay in the sky.
And I started drawing this round, puffy cloud. Only, it was crying because… it was a raincloud… and one of those puffs on its back wasn’t a puff, but a hobo’s sack. Like this raincloud was running away from home.
I stared at my little cloud and knew I had the hero of my story. I named him Nimbus (because every cloud character must be named Nimbus) and drafted my story.
Now, the writing of Nimbus the Cloud has changed a lot over the years, but the story really hasn’t. The fact that Nimbus changed from a boy cloud to a girl cloud or that the story now rhymes hasn’t really altered the heart of the story I conceived of when I was seventeen. Nimbus is still the story of a raincloud desperate to find a place to belong, but always run off because people don’t appreciate what he brings into the world. A cloud who is finally embraced not because he changes, but because he finds a place to be loved for who and what he is.
This story has stayed with me. Every few years, I’d rewrite it from memory. But I didn’t really know what to do with it. How to put my cloud into the world to see if she could make any friends. Then I met Tara Moeller, editor and publisher of Dreampunk Press, at Mars Con. We were on a panel together and afterwards she asked for a copy of A Halo of Mushrooms. We became friends and every so often exchanged drafts of novels. I helped beta read some of Dreampunk’s offerings pre-publication. Then one day, she asked me if I had anything for her.
It honestly hadn’t occurred to me. We were colleagues and friends. I looked through my projects and thought, “What about…?”
There was some hesitation. Tara knew me as a fantasy author. Would she be willing to entertain a picture book? Did her publishing house even do picture books? So, those familiar butterflies fluttered when I tapped send on the email.
Tara’s edits taught me a lot about picture books.
The draft I sent to her had many more rhymes and words. It was maybe a third longer than the final published version. Still, she accepted it, patiently explaining that the standard length of a picture book is thirty-two pages and that’s why we needed to cut and change it from a rhyming book to a book with rhymes. We went back and forth on a number of drafts. Luckily, there were no tears… Well, not until we got to the illustrations. That’s when the downpour really started.
My publisher wanted an experienced children’s book artist. Not me.
Now you have to understand, line, composition, and texture has always been a key part of who I am. I sold my first painting at the age of twelve and have had several gallery exhibitions. My drawings have been featured in pamphlets and playbills. My graphics have been good enough to fill the webpages of nationally syndicated radio shows. So, when Tara told me I was not going to be the illustrator of Pitter Patty, it came as a surprise… and a delight.
Yes, delight… seriously!
Before my radio work, my first professional writing was for the theatre and there on the New York stage, I learned about the power of collaboration. About how other perspectives, experiences, and skillsets can enhance what’s on the page.
Without Yvonne, the look of Nimbus… I mean Pitter Patty, likely would have been keyed to those first high school sketches, but by getting a different artist involved, Patty evolved past my teenaged inspiration. And yes, when I first saw my reimagined rain cloud tears welled up in my eyes. To see this dream realized was overwhelming.
But… I did have notes.
When the storyboard arrived, I studied each line drawing and looked at the expression on every face and character. I reviewed perspective, composition, use of light and dark. Sometimes, my note was “Perfect! Don’t change a thing.” Other times, I asked questions, emphasized points, and once or twice asked for a replacement sketch. Little Dreamer’s Art Director Mo Moeller and Tara did the same. Many of my ideas were adopted. Sometimes, I was wrong. Working like this is a blast. It reminded me of my musical theatre days.
Back then, when a composer set my words to music, the first hearing was often painful. Not because the music was bad, but because it was different. You see, somewhere in the back of my head, there lingered a thought of how the song should sound and it often took a listen or two before I could shake that to hear what was actually being presented.
The same process didn’t quite happen with Yvonne’s illustrations. Maybe I’ve grown up or maybe she’s that good, but that dissonance… that resistance never emerged. I was just happy. So, we worked on what was in front of us and what was best for the story and not against my preconceived notions.
And (humble brag) the book turned out beautiful.
Next came the words. Oh, not the story, but the typeface and the design work. Don’t underestimate this. There is a subtle yet powerful effect in how the phrases are grouped, their color, their boldness, etc. It really impacts the emotional resonance of a picture book.
Thanks Mo!
And you’re right, there’s more. A lot more. A lot more that had to be done before Pitter Patty made it onto the shelf or into your hands, but much of that has to do with the business side of publishing and for Pitter Patty, I may not be the best one to share that part of the story. The important part is that after all this work, after so many drafts, and so many hands, and so much love… rain fell, seeds grew, fruit blossomed, and Pitter Patty found her day.
