I think most children’s authors would tell you that one of the most rewarding parts of being a children’s author is getting letters from children; and the letters are so rich and so funny.
Last week I got a little package — it looked really like a child had put it together. In a little plastic bag was an apple and four marshmallows. A little note came with it that said, “From a six-year-old” — because his mother attached a note trying to explain what was going on — and she said, “He did this all on his own.”
He had brought this to her and said, “I want her to have this to eat when she’s writing.” And then he put in his note — this is so funny — “I want you to write these books ‘til you die.” He sent me an apple and four marshmallows. I got another letter about a month ago that I saved that said, “I am the best friend you will ever have.”
Which I
you know, it’s a little anonymous person out there, and I think, “yeah, probably they are.” The letters can be so heartbreaking and wonderful; and sometimes a child tells you problems and sometimes a teacher writes about a child’s problem. Not long ago I met a child who had no parents who had written his own story — he was eight — and this story was about a monkey who had a baby and how she took care of the baby.
It just made me cry because it was a child’s wish through this storytelling; but I thought at least he could put that into a story. You have these amazing little inspirational encounters with children that keep feeding the muse and make you want to keep that connection going. Children at that age — especially at 7 and 8 — are still so fresh and so unimpaired by peer pressure that they will tell you what’s in their hearts and minds.
They’ll also treat you like an equal — like a colleague. I had a child come up once in a group of children — he sort of stood off to the side — and finally he leaned over and whispered in my ear and said, “Mrs. Osborne, you may not realize this, but I’m an author, too.”
You have that kind of sharing that’s not like you’re a grownup and they’re a child; and they just see you as another creator like themselves. Once after I finished a school assembly this little boy stayed behind and he came up and the boy and I were the only ones left in the auditorium — I don’t think his teacher noticed he hadn’t gone back with the class.
He looked at me and he said, “Hey, are you a kid or a grownup?” — because I had just finished this whole thing about The Magic Tree House, and, you know, Jack and Annie, and I think he really got confused about my identity because of this make-believe world. You have these magical encounters, and then the children are gone.
That child you thought was your best friend is 10 years old and is reading Harry Potter and is just gone. But then there’s another one who’s popped up in their place. You lose them — they just slip through your fingers. All the old letters you have — that person is not there anymore, but then you have these new letters.
It’s different from adult book-writing where you would have a fan base that would pretty much stay as it is. But this is just these little spirits that keep coming through and coming through. It’s shocking to think that the ones I’m talking to now weren’t even alive 10 years into the series; and they’re like mushrooms after rain — they’re sprouting up again.
