Writing a Children's Book Is Not Easier Than Writing an Adult Book

An adult reads a draft to a six-year-old. The first page begins, “In the contemporary society in which we live…” By the third sentence, the child has turned to look out of the window. The writer has spent months on the book. That small moment is still useful editorial feedback.

Writing for children is not an easier version of writing for adults. A short book gives the author fewer places to hide a dull opening, an unclear story or a sentence that sounds better on a proposal form than when spoken aloud. It also asks the writer to think about two people at once: the child who encounters the book and, often, the adult who chooses, pays for or reads it with them.

Decide who will actually use the book

“Children” is not one readership. A child listening to a story, a new independent reader and an older child reading a chapter book meet words in different ways. They may all enjoy a brave main character, but the amount of text, page design and help they need from pictures can be very different.

Start with a concrete description. Is this a picture book meant to be shared at bedtime? A story a confident younger reader can follow alone? A book for a classroom discussion? Each choice changes what belongs on the page. An adult may buy a book because its theme sounds useful, but a child needs a reason to turn to the next page.

Imagine a parent writing about handwashing for young children. The first draft explains germs in a long conversation between a teacher and a class. The information may be sound, but the child has little to watch, wonder about or do. A second draft follows a character who rushes towards a favourite snack with muddy hands, meets a small obstacle and makes a decision. The action gives the explanation somewhere to live. The lesson has not vanished; it now has a story to carry it.

Age labels and school grades can help describe an audience, but they do not replace trying the pages with readers at that stage. Children also develop at different rates and read in different languages. Do not treat a category on a spreadsheet as if it knows every child.

Read the manuscript aloud, then listen to the child

A sentence may look smooth on a laptop and be awkward in the mouth. Repetition can be delightful when it builds expectation. It becomes tiring when it fills space. A rhyme that almost works on paper can trip the adult reading it every evening.

Read the entire draft aloud without stopping to repair it. Mark the point where you run out of breath, where a pronoun becomes unclear, and where you have to explain a joke before it lands. Then ask a trusted adult to read it aloud while you listen. You will hear which bits require the author to supply missing meaning.

If you can share a draft with children appropriately, observe without turning it into an examination. Notice when they point, laugh, interrupt with a prediction or ask to see the next picture. Also notice when attention drifts. One child may be tired or shy, so avoid rebuilding the whole book from a single reaction. Look for a pattern across a few readings and ask the adults involved for permission before arranging them.

Do not ask only, “Did you like it?” Children can be kind, and adults can prompt the answer they want. “What do you think happens next?” or “Which part would you tell someone about?” often reveals more. If the listener cannot tell what the character wants, the problem is usually more important than choosing a more impressive adjective.

Shorter words do not automatically make a better story

Writers sometimes remove every unfamiliar word, every local expression and every interesting sound until the language feels flat. The aim is clarity in context. A child can learn a new word when the surrounding action, conversation or image helps explain it. The question is whether the unfamiliar word rewards their effort.

A Zambian story need not rename everyday things to make them sound foreign or explain every ordinary local detail as if no Zambian child will read it. A child can recognise the pressure of being sent to buy something before the rain, the walk home after school, or the different expectations in a crowded household. Those details should belong to the character's life, not sit in a paragraph of cultural explanation.

At the same time, do not assume every reader knows what you know. If an object or custom matters to the plot, give the reader enough action to understand its role. Let one child show another how something works, or let the consequence make it clear. This approach also gives readers elsewhere a way into the story without requiring the book to apologise for its setting.

If you are writing in a Zambian language, or moving between languages, read the text with people who use that language naturally. A line that sounds fine in direct translation may lose its humour or rhythm. The reader's ear is a better guide than a literal rendering of every English sentence.

Pictures must do work

A picture book is planned in spreads, not simply written as a block of prose with drawings added later. If the text says, “The goat hid behind the market stall,” the image could repeat that fact. It could also show the goat's ears sticking out while the character confidently looks in the wrong direction. The second choice gives a child something to discover.

You do not need to be an illustrator to sketch a rough page plan. Divide the draft into possible spreads, write what the words reveal and note what the picture might add. Ask where a page turn creates curiosity. Check whether the same character, object or setting must look consistent across scenes. If the story depends on a visual joke that appears nowhere in the manuscript, explain it in a short, clear note for the illustrator.

An author who wants full-colour illustrations should discuss scope and rights early. Who is creating the art? What work is included? Can it be used for the cover, inside pages and promotion? What happens if a scene changes after it has been illustrated? Put the agreed terms in writing. Illustration, colour printing and layout can materially affect the budget; the choice should serve the reading experience and the edition's realistic price. Our book pricing guide explains why production decisions cannot be separated from what readers can pay.

Do not fill a proposal with photographs or art found online and assume they can simply be printed. Original or properly licensed work requires a clear plan before production.

A message is not yet a plot

Many first drafts begin with an admirable aim: teach kindness, encourage reading, address bullying, explain saving money. The trouble arrives when every character behaves like a person delivering a lesson. The bully changes after one speech. The child saves because an adult says saving is good. There is no choice with a cost.

Give the child character a desire that matters to them, even if an adult finds it small. A girl wants to keep the football she borrowed when her friend comes to collect it. What does she do? What does she risk losing? Kindness becomes meaningful when she must give up something she wants, rather than repeat the word “kindness” at the end of every page.

This does not require a complicated plot. It requires an honest sequence: someone wants something, something makes it difficult, and their actions change the situation. A quiet book can do this without a villain or a noisy chase. The child in the story should be allowed to think, make mistakes and sometimes surprise the adults.

Before you pay for printing

Put the manuscript through a small practical review:

• Can you name the kind of child and reading situation the book is built for?
• Does the opening offer a reason to continue before it starts explaining the lesson?
• Can someone else read it aloud without stumbling or providing missing context?
• Do the page turns and illustrations add meaning, rather than repeat each sentence?
• Have you considered the language, art permissions, production cost and likely buyer?
• Have children or the adults who read with them shown you where the draft loses them?

Revise the story while these changes are still cheap. Proofreading is valuable later, but it cannot make a lifeless plot interesting or rescue a book designed for the wrong reader. If you are considering a publisher, describe the intended readership and whether the art is finished, planned or still to be commissioned. Sotrane's publishing process begins with those kinds of questions in its consultation and proposal stages.

A good children's book respects the child enough to be clear without being dull, and the adult enough to survive another reading tomorrow. What is a children's book you have seen a child ask for twice—and what made them ask again?