There was encouraging news recently when the National Literacy Trust reported that children’s enjoyment of reading has risen for the first time in five years. At a time when screens increasingly compete for children’s attention and concerns around literacy remain part of the national conversation, this should be a reminder that children need stories more than ever. But if we genuinely want to nurture that enthusiasm, we also need to make space for writers to create books that reflect the many different ways families actually read together, rather than expecting every story to fit the same narrow commercial formula.
One of the hardest things for any writer to discover is that being a good writer is rarely enough. That sounds pessimistic but, in reality, publishing is a business like any other. Publishers have costs to manage, markets to understand and want products they know how to sell. As a result, most books are expected to fit fairly specific formats.
Children’s publishing is a perfect example.
Traditional picture books for younger children are often expected to sit at around 500 words. Move beyond that and publishers often begin looking instead at chapter books aimed at independent readers. The difficulty, of course, is that real stories do not always fit neatly into those categories.
Over the last few years I have been writing the Kiwi the Cockerpoo series, inspired by my own dog and designed around slightly longer, more immersive stories for younger children. These are stories that families can enjoy reading together at bedtime, on car journeys or simply when one short picture book is not quite enough. And I think there is something often overlooked in the reading experience itself.
Anyone who has spent time reading with young children knows that moving rapidly from one short picture book to another can become surprisingly fragmented. One moment you are with Gerald the Giraffe, the next with Kipper, then suddenly Mog, each bringing entirely new worlds, characters and rhythms that constantly interrupt the flow of shared reading time.
By contrast, a longer story built around a familiar character creates continuity. Often one story is enough for the occasion, and because the child already knows the central character, they settle immediately into a world they recognise rather than repeatedly starting again from scratch.
The feedback I have received from industry professionals about the Kiwi the Cockerpoo stories has always been positive regarding the ideas, humour and writing itself. The challenge has consistently been structure. The stories do not quite fit the traditional 500-word publishing framework.
And that raises an interesting question: how many original ideas never make it into the world simply because they do not fit a predetermined format? At some point, there is a danger that creativity starts being shaped by spreadsheets rather than imagination. If every story has to fit the same safe structure, carry an obvious moral, teach a clearly defined lesson and follow a format that has already proved commercially successful, we risk losing the wonderfully unpredictable voices that make storytelling so powerful in the first place.
I found myself faced with the prospect of waiting for somebody else to decide whether Kiwi deserved a place on their list or I could head out and build my own road. That decision has taught me far more than simply how to write books.
I have learned how to build and manage websites, optimise content and create structured data for search engines, manage Amazon publishing, produce social media campaigns, edit video content and navigate the frequently baffling world of digital marketing.
In short, I have discovered that in today’s world, creators no longer need to wait for permission in the way they once did. The traditional gatekeepers still exist, and they serve an important purpose. But technology now allows people to create their own audience if they are prepared to learn the skills needed to reach it.
For me, that journey has grown far beyond simply writing children’s books. Alongside running family businesses focused on military heritage and veterans’ gifts, I now spend much of my time combining writing, design, search engine optimisation, e-commerce and social media strategy – skills I had never imagined needing when I first sat down to write some funny stories a chaotic little black cockerpoo who has an extraordinary talent for turning perfectly ordinary situations into complete mayhem.
There is a lesson in that for anyone trying to build something creative. Sometimes the door you are knocking on never opens. That does not necessarily mean the idea wasn’t good enough. Sometimes it simply means the road has not been built yet. And sometimes, if you believe strongly enough in what you are creating, you have to be willing to build it yourself.
From Consett, armed with a laptop, a dog called Kiwi and what my family would definitely describe as an entirely unreasonable level of determination, I have discovered that creating your own opportunities can be every bit as rewarding as waiting for someone else to hand them to you.
