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Spotlight image: Author Candice Ransom with a few of her 180 published books at a library event.
There was no doubt I was going to be a writer of children’s books. Never mind I couldn’t go to college. Never mind I was the only reader in my house (my folks must have thought I’d fallen from an asteroid). Never mind I had no idea how to be one. I was fifteen. I’d figure it out.
Two years later, just before graduating from high school, I sat alone in the living room with the special children’s edition of the Washington Post Book World. On the back cover was an ad for Lothrop, Lee & Shepard’s spring 1970 books. They would be my publisher, I told myself. I’d already written my first middle grade novel and sent it off. I was just beginning to figure it out.
Breaking into the field of children’s books is as hard as it sounds. I was working as a secretary after high school, writing during lunch hours and weekends, poring over Writer’s Digest for market news. Back then, there were no MFA programs, no classes, no conferences, no books on writing for children, only two magazines for freelance writers. I pictured the industry as a big building with a front door that said Children’s Writers Welcome Here.
After years of knocking, I went around back and crawled through a basement window. My first contract was for Scholastic, a paperback YA suspense novel, acquired on three chapters and an outline. I was in.
After my first book, The Silvery Past (Scholastic, 1983), was published, I folded my hands, waiting for someone to knock on my door, preferably Lothrop, Lee & Shepard. Nothing happened. I realized that subsequent book contracts were going to be just as hard as the first.
I was lucky. My Scholastic editor asked me to write the launch titles for a new YA historical romance series, each 400 pages long (gulp!). She chose me because I showed an affinity for research in my suspense book. This was eons before the internet, but there were libraries. Years as a secretary gave me skills. Not only could I type like lightning, I also knew how to contact historical societies for books and other materials. I wrote six of the Sunfire books (Scholastic, 1984-1986). Each one landed on the B. Dalton and Waldenbooks bestseller lists. I had made it! (But only for a while.)
I grew bored writing for one publisher and wrote for others. I grew bored writing YA paperback originals (avidly bought by kids who had pocket money and haunted malls) and switched to middle grade fiction. After writing middle grade novels, I wanted to try picture books. I did them all, for multiple publishers. It was a lot of juggling.
While I was churning out books, the world was changing. Mall bookstores closed. Those wonderful children’s only bookstores from the ’80s and ’90s shut down. I didn’t notice at first because I was busy jumping between publishing houses and genres. After producing between four and six books a year for several years, business slowed down. I hit my first bump.
I began writing the Boxcar Children mysteries as a ghost writer while also writing nonfiction for an educational publisher. Stuck in a rut of Boxcars and Biographies, I lost the ability to write picture books, chapter books, and middle grade fiction. The well was dry. I needed help.
I had no undergraduate degree or any higher education whatsoever, yet I was accepted into Vermont College’s (VCFA) MFA in Writing for Children and Young Adults program by rolling in a wheelbarrow of published books (not really, though 80 books counted as life experience). I was so excited to be there!
I planned to keep quiet about my work—I was there to learn. Yet on the first morning as we posed for our residency group photo, someone said to me, “I looked you up. Why are you here?” as if I intended to rob people of their oxygen. A long-term career is a journey, with different stages and plateaus. You do what you must to keep going.
At Vermont, I spent hours in the library reading previous students’ graduate theses and critical papers. We were required to read books during the term. Over five semesters, I logged in 1000 books. From my graduate thesis, I sold a middle grade novel, a chapter book, a picture book, an easy reader, and poetry. Armed with new tools and renewed energy, I was back on track.
I followed my VCFA degree with an MA in children’s literature from Hollins University’s Graduate Program in Children’s Literature. From 2002 to 2007, I didn’t stop writing contract books; school projects and assignments were tackled on weekends. I don’t recommend going to school for the first time at the age of 50. Dorm life isn’t compatible with women in menopause!
Then came the recession, a much bigger bump. I was teaching at Hollins, the same program where I’d earned my degree. My editors disappeared, and so did my contracts.
Panic made me ill. I couldn’t write. I couldn’t read. I couldn’t sleep in our bedroom. For six months, I slept in my office on an Aerobed with a senile cat.
The only book I could understand was a 1936 basal reader, The Friendly Village: I know a village where you would like to live. I would like to live there, too. The streets run up and down hill like this. All the trees are big and beautiful.
Then one morning a voice came into my head. She announced herself as Iva Honeysuckle, and I was going to write her story. Iva got me out of that Aerobed each morning, and I happily wrote her story. This from-the-heart chapter book sold, along with its sequel, and a middle grade novel. I was okay, but mindful that bumps were still out there.
People ask how have I written so many books when they’ve never heard of me. That’s okay, I’ve never heard of them either.
For me, success and longevity are attributed to two things:
- one, I taught myself to write and in different formats and genres,
- and two, I never give up.
At 72, I suspect I should be quietly exiting the stage. I’m not going. I’ve earned my place in this field. I have 42 years of valuable experience. Plus, I’ve seen every industry change from the 70s on.
I pass my experience on to my graduate students and to participants in my retreats, workshops, and classes. Teaching allows me to work with other writers, and the courses I design remind me of what I’ve forgotten over the years. My students give me energy and a fresh outlook. I learn as much from my students as they do from me.
My advice to writers is to say “yes” to every opportunity—it worked for me. New genres, subjects, and ways of working offered challenges and pushed me to the edge of my abilities. As I enter my fourth decade as a children’s book writer, I’m now mindful of time and how I will spend it. That said, if I’m passionate about an idea—even one that will keep me engaged for years—I’ll jump in with both feet, regardless of markets or trends.
I try to stay apprised of changes in our industry. The last few years have brought major shifts. Remember that Lothrop, Lee & Shepard ad I studied in 1970? Their spring launch listed five books.
Now publishers crank out thousands of kids’ books a year. There’s room for everyone, and that’s great. What is not so great, to my way of thinking, is the insistence that authors take on roles they may not be suited for. Increasingly, we are tasked with giving school visits and library talks, traveling, maintaining a website, sending and answering emails, and promoting our books on social media platforms. Although I do many of those things, it’s more important to write.
My work day is six-to-eight hours. I developed that stamina as a seventeen-year-old, realizing the shape of a normal work day. When I was able to quit and write full-time, I could concentrate for uninterrupted blocks of time (no children, only cats) and life moved at a steady, measured pace.
In 1981, my husband brought home what looked like a sewing machine in a case. He flipped the lid back to reveal a personal computer. Poof! went my measured writing life. In 1996, I leaped into the World Wide Web, but only on a separate computer. My work computer would stay “clean.” I still employ this system of using two desktop computers, rather than toggle back and forth between windows.
Jump to 2024. We are all buried in emails. Everyone carries a phone. Most are on social media platforms. In grad school, when time was as precious as gold bullion, I shut off our cable, and it’s been off ever since. My husband and I watch DVDs (I don’t stream either). I fought against getting a smartphone until 2019. I was already on a computer eight hours a day; I didn’t want one in my pocket.
People can’t believe I only use my phone for calls and texting two people. Nothing else. How do you live? they say. On my own terms, I reply.
When writers ask me how did you do it—meaning how can I do it, too—I ask them in return, how much do you want it? It’s wonderful being a children’s writer, but are you willing to make some sacrifices? Life will throw up numerous roadblocks: child care, elder care, illness, the economy. Distractions will only grow worse as we face more tech advances. Can you stay the course?
When I decided at age fifteen to be a writer of children’s books, it felt almost as if I didn’t have a choice. I had this drive, and I don’t know where it came from. My family were blue-collar workers. I was the first person to graduate from high school. It was enough to have a good job, a car, maybe own a house. I wasn’t expected to step beyond those boundaries. My road wasn’t easy, but I never gave up because I loved children’s books and because I did figure it out.
I knew in high school I’d spend my life making books for children (but not, alas, for Lothrop, Lee & Shepard). I didn’t know I’d be so prolific. That I would write book after book after book, years on end. It was a good thing because I didn’t know how to do anything else, like cook!
Don’t worry if you’ll have a long-term career. Just keep doing what you love. You’ll figure out the rest.
Cynsational Notes
Candice Ransom has published more then 180 books. Her latest title is Juneberry Blue (Peachtree, 2024). Her award-winning titles include Rebel McKenzie, Bones in the White House: Thomas Jefferson’s Mammoth, Apple Picking Day, Tooth Fairy’s Night, and the classic The Big Green Pocketbook.
She has an MFA in writing from Vermont College of Fine Arts and an MA in children’s literature from Hollins University. She currently teaches at Hollins University in their graduate program in children’s literature. She lives in Fredericksburg, Virginia, with her husband and two bossy cats.