On Composing a Children's Book for My Niece

It starts with a little girl, of course. Her name is Jezebel... no.

Bells are nice, though. Ringabel? Tinklebell? Bella. A little girl named Bella, and there's a conflict, right? I mean, there must be. Something she wants. He hates her. He hates the expressions she makes with her face. Hate is too much, of course. An active dislike. Annoyance. We can teach a lesson about being annoyed. Keep it about the girl. Annabel's Annoyed. Her toes feel tickled. Her eyes are too blinky. Her elbows ache. The Boy Who Annoys. His name is Gerald. Why must he carry on so? How does he ever get anythng done? How does he get that stain on his pants every single day? Gerald is of course a content creature. He's really from Mars. No, we don't want to confirm the girl's prejudice. Is this about prejudice? What is the lesson here? What do I know about handling hateful people? What are the strategies I can teach? Does a children's book have to teach?

He hisses. Did you know Gerald hisses through his teeth? And for no particular reason. He has lost the capacity to be loved. Something essential is missing, as with sociopaths. We simply cannot love him. Even the Blue Fairy turns her back on him. Will Annabel save him? Will I teach my niece to rescue miserable men by falling in love with them? I think not.

No, Gerald should not be so pitiful. We only glimpse him. His silhouette in the window is drowning a kitten in the sink. Or is it? How can Annabel be sure? No one will believe her.

No. Don't bring up such doubts. She keeps it in her world, organizes a rescue party from among her friends. The home invasion, the boost to the sink. The terrible screams. Only Annabel dares to resuscitate the beast. The Kiss of Babes. The triumphant meow. Merely bathing a kitten, of course. Not drowning. We don't drown kittens in our children's books. We merely make you think that kittens are being drowned. We just present the idea long enough to haunt your dreams. Perhaps this is not a good idea.

Gerald is a migrant worker. No, I'll save that story for a migrant worker to tell. I should be a literacy volunteer, help the oppressed to tell their own stories. Gerald is a child just like any other child. We don't understand why he annoys. The quality is Annabel's, not Gerald's. It is as though she is allergic. She tries to have him deported. She has a seizure and accuses him of witchcraft. These antics only serve to intrigue him.

She collects newspapers from around the country, looking for his picture. She becomes obsessed with obituaries. She writes her own life story, in which her greatest accomplishment is the destruction of Gerald. Everybody wants to save the world. Where does a six-year-old get newspapers? I don't know. She's resourceful.

But the obituaries have to go. My niece is easily scared. I suppose there should be some reconciliation with Gerald. They become childhood sweethearts. After ten years of marriage, he still annoys the fuck out of her. She turns to poetry for solace.

Hey! This is supposed to be about children. I liked dinosaurs when I was a child. The town is invaded by a brontosaurus. He's eating their chimney! Only Gerald can save her.

That is so wrong. She of course saves herself. She slays the dinosaur with a can of whipped cream and a match. Hmmm... I bet we don't want to encourage experimentation of that ilk.

A dinosaur is maybe too big. But kids like big. And a brontosaurus isn't as scary as other dinosaurs. But what does he have to do with the themes, particularly the main theme of Annoyance? I could see how something that big could be annoying. His name is Gerald? No, I think ultimately a kid is not going to relate to that, unless perhaps the brontosaurus is a child himself. The brontosaurus comes from a world in which he himself is small, and it is this realization that allows Annabel to overcome her resentment.

But must she overcome? Must there always be overcoming? Show her never overcoming. Expose the trap of her prejudice. Leave her lonely and despairing. How else will these children learn? How better to keep them from forgetting?

But maybe a book should be forgotten. My niece will learn and not remember where she learned it. I have seen her learning, growing. It happens regardless of me, in spite of me. For all my efforts I might as well be trying to keep the brontosaurus from eating my begonias.

Or rather, she is trying to force the brontosaurus to eat her begonias. Really all she can do is plant the begonias. The rest is up to the brontosaurus. This is what she must learn... over and over again. She worries too much, really. Everyone else is really impressed that the brontosaurus showed up at all. She's already had her miracle. But no, she's mad at the brontosaurus, mad at the begonias. She is terribly, terribly annoyed. She won't even look into those big, dreamy eyes.