Guest Post: Jamilah Thompkins-Bigelow, Picture Books and the Playfulness of Children
Photo courtesy of the author. Photo Credit: Michael E. Gray
Jamilah Thompkins-Bigelow knew she wanted to be a writer at the age of seven when she wrote a story called “Little Ballerina” and wasn’t satisfied with it when she finished it. She added a sequel and then more, until she had “an impossibly long series.” More from her web site:
I wrote stories and poetry all through grade school and even college, but as an adult, I suppressed my dreams of pursuing professional writing.
This pathway so closely mirrors my own childhood writing experiences and my own reluctance to honor them as an adult that I thought I’d reach out to Jamilah for a guest post. I meant to, but got sidetracked by the daily shuffle.
Then I came across a picture book, Your Name is a Song, that weaves a child’s experience on her first day of school into a tapestry about origins and sounds and imaginings. The titular name isn’t revealed until the very end. The child’s walk with her mother loops in not only the beauty of African, Asian, Black-American, Latinx, and Middle Eastern names but also the street car, musicians, buildings, streets and the inventive beauty of creative naming. The book is by Jamilah Thompkins-Bigelow, illustrated by Luisa Uribe.
You know how when you’re interested in something, it begins to show up everywhere? The morning I received an email from Highlights about a class on writing quiet books, being offered by—who else?—Jamilah Thompkins-Bigelow, I knew I had to invite her to write a guest post.
When You Need to Play: A Drafting Strategy
by Jamilah Thompkins-Bigelow
I firmly believe that a writer’s needs should drive the writing process of their books.
As I sat down to draft Together We Are Sunshine, I needed to feel something different. I needed to explore. I needed to play.
The world can be a decidedly unplayful place. The politics of the world and, at times, of my personal life don’t “spark joy” as Marie Kondo would say. There’s so much to process. And so, as Kondo would suggest, I stripped everything bare to draft Together We Are Sunshine. I threw out everything I knew about writing a PB. I focused only on what brought me joy.
Many months before I sat down to draft this book, I came across a stock photo of a little girl smiling so hard she was squinting. I was searching for images to help me with the brainstorming for another book. While this photo wouldn’t work for that book, I couldn’t scroll past her image. Her glowy-ness made me smile and reminded me of my childhood. I instantly knew she should be in a PB. I decided to save her in my “Random Ideas” file. Under her picture, I wrote, “Squint at the sun. It kisses your nose.” I promised myself that when I had time, I would put her sunshine in some book.
“Life was life-ing. The world was world-ing. I needed the photo, a blank page, and no clear direction. ”
I’d forgotten about the photo by the time I sat down to draft what would become her PB. I read through my random ideas and saw her. That same feeling returned. What is her story? Strangely, I couldn’t brainstorm or gather my ideas for this story – my normal practice. I couldn’t structure or organize. I had finished some long, difficult projects. Life was life-ing. The world was world-ing. I needed the photo, a blank page, and no clear direction. This simplicity sparked joy. I began.
If you squint at the sun, it kisses your nose and turns your skin into brown shimmer sunshine.
I asked myself, who says that? I imagined an older sister. I asked, who gets in the way of the sun (even if they don’t mean to)? I pictured a younger sister. I continued this back-and-forth, letting the girls play aimlessly (and letting myself do the same) while asking questions, as they journeyed towards the sun.
Together, our play was my sunshine.
