I got an email and a voicemail from my favorite young author yesterday, Katrina Martin Davenport (aka Feisty), announcing very good news. I am almost hesitant to mention it for fear that putting it out there will somehow jinx my luck. But since Kat has already plastered it all over her websites, I might as well chime in on the celebration–
I’ve been chosen to illustrate Katrina’s second children’s book, Chanda’s House! *pause for applause*
Katrina asked me to submit sketches for her manuscript way back in, oh, May I think? Or was it March? No matter, it feels like excrutiating ages ago. As soon as I read the manuscript I knew I had to illustrate it, or at least try. Kat’s writing style is so natural and dear. The story comes from Katrina’s childhood which made it even more dear in my eyes. I drew pencil sketches for two full spreads and did two character sketches and sent them to the publisher for consideration. Then I waited. In that waiting time I went from extreme fits of excitement and anticipation, to high anxiety over what might go wrong, to my most recent feelings of resolution and acceptance that it just might not happen–all the while keeping very quiet about it so as to avoid any negative or overly positive influences of outside opinion. Premature congratulations can be as painful as an immediate rejection. (Say that sentence 5 times fast and see if it comes out sounding more like a men’s bedroom issue).
And even now, with Katrina’s word that I’ve been accepted, I have taken the news with a grain of salt. I’ve had deals fall through on me too many times before. Just this week even, with that failed photo shoot. There, there’s the anxiety again, like a pinprick. There’s my Poopynannyhead inner critic pointing out all the possibilities of failure that I face. “Oh no! It’s a risk! A risk! You know what that means. I hate risks. I’m going to do everything in my power to prevent this one.”
Snowbird curls up in a ball and rocks to and fro. Poopynannyhead chants louder. Snowbird cups her hands over her ears.
Meanwhile, Katrina’s characters have been floating around in my head, beckoning Snowbird to come out and play. She can’t hear them with those fingers pressed so tight her cheeks squish together. She can’t see them because Poopynannyhead is jumping up and down in front of her, stomping her feet in a tantrum. Will someone please take that horrid child by the pigtails and put her in her place… preferably down for a long, long nap?
