The WordSmith’s Workshop

When I think of the books I loved growing up, I can see as an adult how they shaped who I am, and how I think.

From Pam Muñoz Ryan’s Esperanza Rising, I learned never to be afraid to start over — advice Esperanza’s treasured grandmother gives her time and again — and I learned how difficult starting over can be, without ever having to start over myself. Frances Hodgson Burnett’s timeless The Secret Garden taught me something similar, as well as the importance of learning from people different to yourself, and finding peace in hardship. From Georgia Byng’s Molly Moon series (which my Dad bought me because the author’s name was Georgia), I learned about the importance of daring to escape unhappy situations, and of believing in who you are and what you can do, but not at the expense of your friendships. It’s hard to pinpoint exactly what The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster taught me, but I can tell you I think of it at least once a week with a smile. Perhaps the value of finding adventure in life, which is exactly what the booth wants to teach Milo.

But, perhaps with the exception of The Phantom Tollbooth in which Milo is quite definitively informed that he needs to change his perspective, none of these books want you to pick them up because they’re trying to teach you anything. They want you to pick them up because they are wonderful stories, with characters that feel like they’re breathing next to you, and writing that is still with you decades later.

Most of that magic is conjured by the writer. But those kind of lasting impressions are the kind of spell that can only be cast by working with an editor who cares that every sentence adds to your book, and who can’t wait to help it on its journey to becoming a tattered fixture on a child’s shelf.