📌 On "Inviting" Readers
And why I always think about that word while creating for the youngest
A couple of years ago, Mac Barnett and Christian Robinson came through Seattle to promote one of their picture books together, Twenty Questions. Not only did that book look like my jam, it would also be a prime opportunity to selfishly get one of my very favorite picture books, Leo: A Ghost Story, signed by them both in a rare “one, two” Sharpie-weilding punch.
One easy thing to underestimate is how nervous the human condition is. Perhaps we now call it “low-grade anxiety” to distance ourselves from it, but the truth is, as kids, we learn to view meeting new people, and indeed, doing most anything we haven’t done a million times already, with a certain dose of suspicion. Sometimes the unknown/‘something new’ is the genuine reason for our stomach-flutter, but more often than not (and maybe I’m speaking only for myself1), it’s because we aren’t sure how WE will react to the ‘something new’ we are about to tumble into. Anyhow, I was nervous of going, because I respect both of their work—but mostly because I didn’t want to make a total ass out of myself.
Important note: though I like to think I know their work well, I don’t know either of these gentlemen. I am telling this story as a fan, not of (alas) a “buddy.” But I had thought of what I might say to both ahead of time with my precious few seconds, and while, in the end, while I still had no pithy idea of what to say to wordsmith Mac, I *did* know what I wanted to say to Christian, because I knew exactly what I felt when I entered his visual worlds.
“Your art is so INVITING,” I told him.
“Oh, thank you,” Christian said, and looked down to sign my books, smiling his lovely, enigmatic smile—exactly the best response I could have hoped for. That is, the best until, next to him, Mac unexpectedly piped up. “THAT is the perfect word.”
Reader, when I say I was speechless with delight, that only covers so much of it. To have conveyed exactly what I meant to one of my all-time favorite creators, and in a way that one of my OTHER all-time favorites thought was word-perfect (or at least said so), well, it meant a lot. But why I’m sharing the story now is NOT just because of my pride in a single “hey, I didn’t make that terrible for everyone!” encounter between myself and two creative heroes, but also because the pride stems from articulating exactly what I believe:
As children’s literature creators, our primary job is to invite young readers.
And what a thing we are inviting them into! READING!
“Why inviting? Why not “accessible?” — you didn’t ask, but I’m pretending you did
Here’s the thing about accessible: I wish it didn’t have just a leeeeetle bit of judgey edge to it. A word whose whole ethos I couldn’t agree with more, “accessible” suffers from being used derisively by those who also derisively use should-be-positive terms like “lowest common denominator.” (You know the type.) I sincerely wish it weren’t so: when I think about accessibility, I think of our lowly friend, the curb cut-out2.
Thanks to my industrial design friends in college, a long time ago I learned the their fascinating history; how they were initially put in to satisfy the accessibility (there’s that word again!) standards—and how the grumble, grumble of retrofitting them for wheelchairs led to a host of unintended consequences: namely, making streets infinitely more walkable, and inviting, for buggy-pushers, delivery people, short-legged dogs—in short, everyone.
So, while I *love* the word accessible, when I deliberately chose inviting as my one-word touchpoint, it was essential that it was exactly the right word. “Inviting” leaves no room for doubt about its intent; I dare you to try to use it derisively3.
Like the Supreme Court’s famous definition of something on the opposite side of the spectrum, we may not know how to perfectly define what is “inviting” to us—but we know it when we see feel it.
I think, and I’m somewhat spitballing here, for me, “inviting” boils down to nailing two key aspects: 1) extending a genuine invitation, and 2) meeting (ideally, EXCEEDING) the expectations you have set through that process.
These are not two small things, dearest reader (and fellow creative). They are the whole befuddling, rewarding, exquisite game.
Your “inviting” friend,
Elayne
My posts are always free, but my focus isn't; if you found this post interesting or useful, please consider ♡’ing it so I know. Thank you!
In my defense, it’s all I know, and all I *can* know.
Lowly, literally. Also, as a translation for my Aussie friends, the “kerb cut-out.” I mention this because adding the k here really does make the word much, much funnier.
Please don’t.