WHY MY PICTURE BOOK WON'T SELL

A few years ago I wrote this darling little picture book called Happy 100! I thought it was just adorable. 

Then my critique group read it... 

Yeow! 

And my agent...

Ugh. 

And a couple of conference editors... 

Uh-oh. 

I quickly learned that my adorable picture book wasn't so adorable. And it wouldn't sell. 

Why?

First, here’s the 500-word manuscript:

HAPPY 100!

by Dotti Enderle

 

            Today is Grand-Gran’s one-hundredth birthday. One hundred! Even the TV weatherman knows that’s a big deal!

            Everyone is giving her gifts of one hundred.

            “What should I give her?” I ask my dog, Ringo.

            “Erf!” Ringo says.

            I think that means one hundred doggie treats. “Don’t be silly,” I tell him.

            Mom is giving Grand-Gran one hundred dollars in a birthday card. But she’s cheating. It’s just one bill with one hundred printed on it. Of course if it was one hundred individual dollars she wouldn’t be able to seal the envelope!

            But what can I give her? One hundred buttons? One hundred peppermints? A book with one hundred pages? One hundred is a lot!

            How about one hundred new sets of teeth? Yeah! One set for smiling. One for munching. One that glows in the dark in case the lights go out.

            Oooh…that sounds awfully expensive.

            “What can I give her?” I ask Ringo again.

            Ringo drums his tail on the floor. “Erf!”

            I think that means one hundred fleas. “Don’t be silly, Ringo. If Grand-Gran had one hundred fleas, we’d have to bathe her outside in smelly dog soap.”

            Oops! I shouldn’t have said dog soap. “Come out from under the bed, Ringo. We have to think of a gift for Grand-Gran.”

            I know. Since Grand-Gran loves to laugh,  I’ll make one hundred silly faces.

            Like this…

            And this…

            And this…

            And this…

            Wait. That last one looked too much like the first one. I could never think up one hundred different silly faces.

            But what can I give her? One hundred bottle caps? Trading cards? Pieces of spaghetti? And where would I get any of those things so quickly?

            Hey, how about one hundred shiny stickers for her scooter? Then she’d be the flashiest granny on bingo night.

            (Art note: she digs through a drawer or box)

            Here’s a raspberry sticker. And a purple-slurple. And here’s a blue one that’s the same color as Grand-Gran’s hair.

            Wait a second. I don’t have one hundred stickers. I don’t even have ten! I’ll have to think of something else.

            Ringo and I go outside so the fresh air can restart my brain. There’s a large pile of raked leaves, waiting for me. “KER-PLOP!” I shout, diving in. The leaves are soft and crisp and…

            That’s it! I’ll give Grand-Gran one hundred leaves to play in.

            I count them out in stacks of ten.

            Uh-oh. Suddenly, one hundred doesn’t seem like a lot. It’s not nearly enough leaves for jumping around.

            “Help me out, Ringo. What can I give her?”

            Ringo says, “Erf!”

            I think that means, “I give up!”

            “One hundred,” I say, looking around.

            One hundred acorns? One hundred feathers? One hundred mud pies? No. Grand-Gran would probably have more fun making her own mud pies.

            I think hard. It has to be more than just one hundred of something. It has to be super special. Super-duper special.

            Ringo curls next to me and licks my hand.

            That’s it!

            After Grand-Gran blows out the one hundred candles on her cake, I’ll give her my present.

            “63…64…65…”

            (Art note: Character is on one side giving Grand-Gran kisses on the cheek, while Ringo is on the other side, licking her face)

Okay, so here are the reasons I assumed it would sell.

1. Voice. I really thought I’d nailed the thoughts and speech of a little girl. So playful. So innocent.

2. Concept. Most every kindergarten class celebrates 100 Days of School. So I naturally assumed most every kindergarten teacher would want it for their classroom.

3. Ringo. Kids love dogs, right? And the MC’s relationship with Ringo is sweet and cute. A real selling point…uh...right?

Now here are the hard facts. The reason this book will never sell.

1. First person point of view. Yes, there are some first person picture books out there, but not many. Unless you’ve nailed a surefire kid-pleaser, be prepared. Agents and editors don’t like first person PBs. People in the biz will agree that PBs should be third person.

2. Concept. There’s nothing wrong with writing a book with 100 as the subject matter. That's great. But it was pointed out to me that the percentage of kids with great-grandmothers turning 100-years-old is miniscule. Small children can’t relate.

3. Nameless. What’s the MC’s name? Yeah, I don’t know either. It’s my understanding that little ones do want to know. It’s part of connecting to the story.

4. Ringo. I genuinely thought he was an asset, but a few people felt he was a gimmick. It was never my intention, but I can see their point.

5. Of all the reasons for rejection, this is the BIGGIE. The story's ending. Let’s all say it in unison, “Predictable!” Most everyone who critiqued or considered this manuscript pointed that out. I have wondered if a 3-year-old would guess it, but 3-year-olds aren't buying books, editors are. And editors have tons more experience in bookselling than I do. Believe me, I've banged my head against the wall repeatedly, trying to shake out a new ending. It’s just not there.

There are probably a lot more reasons for rejection than what I've listed. Feel free to point them out. We’re all here to learn and grow.

Another huge reason this book won’t sell? I just published it on my blog.  :)

So what’s been your picture book experiences? Successes? Failures? If you have little ones at home, I’d love to know what you’re reading to them and why they want to hear it over and over.

Spotlight on Flashlight

This is not an ad...it's a shout out.

I’ve published with a lot of great houses, each one offering a different experience. But one of those publishers stands out as unique. Flashlight Press – the smallest house I’ve worked with. In 2007 they published Grandpa for Sale, a collaborative work between my good friend, Vicki Sansum and myself. (Writing it together is another blog post for another day.)

Unique? If you’ve ever worked with Flashlight’s founder and editor, Shari Dash Greenspan, you’d understand. Shari saw more in our little PB than Vicki and I ever envisioned – word choices…plotting…illustrations. And it didn’t stop there. Because of her dedication “Grandpa” went on to win three awards, became a nominee of both the Arizona and Indiana State Reading lists, and was named a Borders Original Voices selection.

There were numerous reviews, interviews and articles connected to it. And it was even featured on the Dr. Laura show. That’s more accolades than all of my other books combined. (I wish I had someone like Shari behind those too!)

And “Grandpa” is not alone. All of Flashlight’s books have won numerous honors. Check out I Need MyMonster by Amanda Noll, illustrated by Howard McWilliam. 

 

There’s barely room on their webpage for all the kudos that fabulous PB has raked in…deservedly so. 

  

What’s Flashlight’s secret? Quality over quantity. Two to four books a year allows for a lot of nurturing. That’s something Shari and her crew do well.

If you’d like to submit to Flashlight, PLEASE read their guidelines first. And if you get an acceptance, you’ll have a whole lot to shout about.

  

Now What?

On January 4^th, I told you I’d done something I hadn’t done in 12 years. Submit to an agent. Today I had a first. A rejection from an agent.

I didn’t submit to her with a sense of euphoria. I’m not upset, depressed or feeling worthless. No bubble was burst. But since receiving the “I didn’t love it” reject, I’m pondering the ever frustrating question:

Now what?

I could query another agent, but what if the manuscript really isn’t all that lovable? I certainly don’t want to burn bridges with anyone I might want to rep me in the future.

I could pay hundreds of dollars to a freelance editor to help me whip it into shape. But that’s a risky step. All that money for one editor’s opinion?

Then there’s the option that has crossed my mind a gazillion times. Design some cool covers, hire a copyeditor and throw it all up on Amazon. That would be the easy route. And I could man the helm – a major perk for a control freak like me. But then again, I’m no more a Joe Konrath or Amanda Hocking than I am a Stephen King or Janet Evanovich. To be successful on Kindle, you have to be consistent, a quick writer, and offer 2 or more books a year. Quick and consistent, I'm not.

And then there’s the practical choice. Put it in a drawer and go to the next project. Distance has always been my friend. But that drawer is already overstuffed.

So help me out here, guys. What would you do?

Resisting Change

So last week I sent a submission to an agent. Along with the attachment, I gave her some basic info – short blurb, editor interest (yes, it has some), and I threw in a little bit about another YA of mine that is currently with an editor I had queried and sent to on my own. I concluded with, “I am open to any and all revisions.”

I am.

But that wasn’t always the case. For me, revising is a struggle. Once my words are on paper, changing them is like rearranging Stonehenge (forget it Feng Shui folks). Since they seemed so perfect the first time, my brain would freeze and I just couldn’t think of anything to replace them. And putting the manuscript in a drawer didn’t help either. I’d pull it out a year later and think, “Wow, I wrote this? It’s good!”

But I learned a neat trick. Stop thinking of myself and look at it through my agent’s or editor’s eyes. What are they seeing that I’m not? And what about the reader? What do I want them to take away from this? My books should be a shared experience, not I love this, so should you.

I’ve learned over the years that it’s not just your writing, voice and plot that sells. It’s your revisions. If you’re not willing play well with others, you can kiss those contracts goodbye.

And those beautiful pieces of prose that I just can’t part with? They’re in a folder called “Outtakes.”