Editors on Editing: What Writers Need to Know About What Editors Do (55 page)

Another of the great pleasures of editing children’s books is the wide variety in the types of books being published. Books for children range from board books and picture books for babies and young children through middle-grade and young adult fiction and nonfiction. Although the subjects and formats are extremely varied, the criteria for selection are similar for all of them. Whether it’s a picture book for the toddler or a novel for young adults, it’s important for the text to be interesting and well written and the subject appealing to the age group for whom the book is intended. In
children’s fiction the plot and characterization must also be compelling. Nonfiction children’s books have to be factually accurate, of course, and the quality of the writing should be as fine and lively as in a good work of fiction. All of this is also true of acquiring and editing books for adults. In choosing which children’s books to publish, however, we must also appeal to adults in order to reach our ultimate audience: the children for whom the book is meant in the first place. It is generally adults who buy the books before they actually reach children, although teenagers do choose books—mainly paperbacks—for themselves. But even these books must first be filtered through booksellers and librarians—more adults.

Beyond the special ability of knowing what older people will buy for the young, it is most important that editors of juvenile books have a sense of what
children
will like. It’s helpful if the editor can remember what it
felt
like to be a child. I’ve never known whether I have considerable recall of my childhood feelings because I’m a children’s book editor and I often call upon those memories, or if it’s because of those feelings that I decided to edit children’s rather than adult books.

But one reason I’m in this field is that I’m aware of how important books are to and for children. A good book can change their lives; it can affect how they think and feel about any number of subjects. It’s not only very interesting to be involved in that process, it’s also a great responsibility, one that is an integral part of publishing for children. Unlike textbooks, children’s trade books—those found in bookstores and libraries—are read for pleasure. Good literature—not basal textbooks—will not only provide that pleasure, but also can and should expand the imagination as well as foster knowledge and children’s understanding of the world and the people in it.

The young are far more impressionable and vulnerable than are adults, and not surprisingly there is wide disagreement on what is appropriate for children to read. Some editors, like some parents, would like to protect children from knowledge of the dangers and ills in our society. Not every good subject for a book is appropriate for
young
children, but I believe that it’s generally knowledge, not a lack of it, that arms children and helps to prepare them for the world as it is, rather than what we would like it to be. Even those who live in a very protected environment have easy access to TV and movies, and these often carry a stronger, harsher sense of reality than do most children’s books, which are likely to deal with tough issues in a more sensitive way.

One such issue is AIDS. Recently we published
Ryan White: My Own Story
, a book for ages ten through adult. Ryan’s five-year fight against AIDS until his death at age eighteen, and especially his fight against the sometimes violent prejudice he encountered, was, I believed, an extremely important story. But from the moment I contracted for the manuscript, I
knew a special effort would be needed to gain a wide audience for a book on a subject many people don’t want to read about. It was necessary, we felt, to have a publicity campaign to bring attention to Ryan’s autobiography. Although the book was on the
New York Times
best-seller list, some book buyers still were deterred by the subject matter from buying or stocking it.

Children’s books should represent the diversity in our nation. The United States has never been an all-white country, but especially prior to the 1970s one would not have known that from reading children’s books. I’ve felt since I was a teenager that it’s very important that all children read books by and about as many of the minorities in the United States as possible. As a child in a New England city of thirty thousand people, I had read every children’s book in the public library by the age of nine. None of them was by or about black people, and I never even thought about it until four years later when I found, at home,
Black Boy
by Richard Wright and then a year or two later his first published novel,
Native Son
. I suddenly remembered clearly, as I do now, that the only time African Americans were mentioned in any book I’d read previously was in the study of the Civil War in my fourth- or fifth-grade social studies class. The passage in our textbook stated that although slavery was wrong, most slaves were well taken care of and were happy. Though I wasn’t ordinarily the kind of child who questioned what I was told in school, I instantly knew that could not be true. Slaves were not happy being owned as a piece of furniture was owned; how could they be? The two Richard Wright books and the passage on slavery had a profound effect on me, as I think happens only when you’re young. I’m sure that this was a major factor in my publishing books by and about blacks beginning in the late 1960s, when I arrived at Dial, and continuing into the 1990s.

Soon after I joined Dial as editor-in-chief of Books for Young Readers, I read a copy of a manuscript entitled
Look out, Whiteyl
that the adult department was planning to publish. It was clear that the author, Julius Lester, was a wonderful writer, and I suggested to him that he consider writing for children. A few weeks later he came into my office with four or five ideas, and when he said he’d done research in the Library of Congress, where he had collected quotations from ex-slaves, I said immediately, “That’s it, start with that one.” Finally there would be a book for children that would tell what it was
really
like to be a slave. And so I published
To Be a Slave
in 1968, and it was chosen as a Newbery Honor Book—unusual for nonfiction and a first for a black writer at that time. And since then many fourth- and fifth-grade classes have used the book for the study of slavery. Even now I still think of
To Be a Slave
as one of the most important and most gratifying books I’ve ever published, and I’ve continued my
commitment to developing talented writers and artists from different racial and ethnic backgrounds.

Just this week, I received
The Last Tales of Uncle Remus
, the fourth and final book of Julius Lester’s extraordinary retellings of the largest single body of African American folktales we have. I originally suggested this major project to him in 1985, and the first book,
The Tales of Uncle Remus
, was published in 1987.
Last Tales
, which is the tenth book we’ve worked on together, will be published in 1993.

Some of the social and political progress brought about by the civil rights movement inspired the blossoming of writers and illustrators from various racial groups in the sixties and seventies, especially African Americans. One of the results of the new ferment was that a number of black people whose works I subsequently published went to Africa, particularly Ghana, and returned to write or illustrate books. Motifs from African art and design, as well as the Swahili language, brought a new dimension to children’s books. To my mind this was the true birth of the multicultural movement, which has become such a strong force in children’s books today.

When Muriel Feelings submitted her idea for
Moja Means One: A Swahili Counting Book
, she planned to use her simple linoleum block art for illustrations. I convinced her to allow Tom Feelings, whom I had asked to illustrate
To Be a Slave
and to whom she was then married, to illustrate the book, and his beautiful paintings gave the work the stature it deserved. As a result, in 1972 Tom became the first black artist to win a Caldecott Honor—runner-up for the Caldecott Medal. In 1975 he again received a Caldecott Honor for
Jambo Means Hello: A Swahili Alphabet Book
.

I had asked Leo and Diane Dillon to illustrate their first picture book,
The Ring in the Prairie: A Shawnee Legend
, which I published in 1970. A few years later I told them I thought they could do wonderful artwork for an African folktale I’d found for them. They did, and in 1976
Why Mosquitoes Buzz in People’s Ears
won the Caldecott Medal, making Leo the first black artist to win the Caldecott. The Dillons also won the Caldecott Medal in 1977 for
Ashanti to Zulu: African Traditions
, the same year that another Dial book,
Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry
by Mildred D. Taylor, won the Newbery Medal. Mildred is only the second black writer to receive this prestigious honor and she continues to win many awards for her books, which are based on her own family in Depression-era Mississippi. Jerry Pinkney, an African American artist who created the artwork for the Uncle Remus books, also illustrated Robert D. San Souci’s
The Talking Eggs
, a 1989 Caldecott Honor Book as well as a Coretta Scott King Award winner.

Beginning in the sixties and seventies we published books of American Indian folktales, and in 1991 Susan Jeffers illustrated
Brother Eagle, Sister Sky: A Message from Chief Seattle
. This beautiful book was on the
New
York Times
best-seller list, among others, for several months in 1992 in large part because of the environmental message that we are the caretakers rather than the owners of the land—a philosophy that has always been a part of Native American beliefs.

Considering that there are many millions of Latino Americans in this country, it is distressing that so few Latino authors are writing for children. A major author is Nicholasa Mohr, and I edited the three books she published with Dial.
In Nueva York
is a group of interrelated stories and was an ALA Notable and Best Book for Young Adults.
Felita
and
Going Home
, for younger children, are based on some of the author’s experiences growing up in New York City and going to Puerto Rico for the first time—books that have brought in many letters from children going through similar experiences.

I am sometimes asked what the best training is for the profession of children’s book editor. Two essential ingredients are a lifelong love of books of all kinds and an interest in a wide range of subjects and issues. One should also have the ability to develop into someone who can in the space of a few moments move comfortably from negotiating a contract to encouraging an author to complete a book, which may involve a little lay psychology. Then one should be able to immediately decide on the format of a picture book with an artist and estimate how many copies are likely to sell (before the manuscript is revised or the art begun), so that production costs can be estimated. And that may all be in less than a half hour after arriving at the office. A children’s book editor should not only know how to select and edit manuscripts for publication and be able to work with all different kinds of artists, but should also have a good understanding of design, production, marketing, publicity, and subsidiary rights.

Despite all this, at the very start of the publishing process there is simply an editor alone in an office reading a manuscript. Well, not usually alone. Since I am also president and publisher of Dial, I’m rarely alone long enough to read manuscripts in my office. In fact I’m happy if I can read my mail! So it’s even more likely that I’m on a crowded subway reading the manuscript, or at home at eleven at night reading it on the couch. The job is so demanding that there’s just not enough time to read in the office.

But wherever I am, at this stage I’m just a reader, reacting to a writer’s work. If the project is a picture book by an author-illustrator, I am also a viewer, looking at and evaluating artwork, usually sketches in dummy form at this point. In any case, if I’m excited by a project, interested in what it has to say, personally moved,
and believe it will appeal to children
, I will first make a decision that it should be published, and then figure out just how it should be done.

A major part of the editorial process is working with the author or
author-illustrator, and in my experience the most important ingredient in that relationship is trust. The author must trust that the editor knows what she or he is talking about when asking for revisions. This is one reason that I like to meet with a new author before contracting for a project. A considerable degree of rapport is necessary for a productive working relationship, and whenever possible I like to discuss in person what kind of revisions I think are needed and see as well as hear how the author responds.

Trust and honesty are as important in an editorial relationship as they are in any good relationship—always a two-way street. I’ve also realized in recent years that the longer I’ve worked with an author or illustrator, the more
I
bring to the editorial relationship because I know the person I’m working with much better with each book. This also works in reverse for the author, who understands what kind of guidance is possible from his or her particular editor and what is reasonable to expect. People differ widely on what they require from an editor. Some want to discuss ideas before pursuing them; others send complete manuscripts and/or dummies before involving their editor.

I’ve worked with Rosemary Wells since 1970 and in that time have edited and published more than forty of her books: picture books, board books, middle-grade and young adult novels, as well as a cookbook spoof for adults. In addition to editing, part of what Rosemary expects from me is help in deciding which of the several ideas she has (simultaneously) she should work on and in what order.

One day in 1977 I picked up the phone and heard a familiar voice saying a familiar phrase: “Phyllis, I’ve got three ideas and I want you to tell me which to do first.” (In the 1990s this type of call from Rosemary comes more often, and it’s now generally four or five good ideas she’s juggling.) She described them as one of her “usual” picture books, the young adult novel we’d been discussing, and something new: a short picture book for the very young. After listening to her briefly describe the latter, I immediately said, “Do the young book first.”