Short Doesn’t Mean Simple: What Makes a Picture Book Truly Work
The KidLit Creator’s Chronicle #48
I did a quick count today, and over the last four years, I have critiqued over 200 manuscripts and encountered many more from the authors I come into contact with along the way.
While it’s been a pleasure to read many wonderful stories (some made me laugh out loud, and some even made me cry!), quite often I also encounter a manuscript that’s simply not working. Sometimes it’s easy to see why, and sometimes it’s not so easy to see why. Sometimes the story just feels flat or disconnected, or like it’s trying to do too much but not really doing any of it well.
In my experience, the manuscripts that aren’t working almost always come from authors who haven’t yet studied the craft. That’s not a criticism – writing a picture book looks deceptively easy from the outside. Most people assume that short and simple to read means simple to write. It doesn’t.
The problem is almost never the idea. It’s almost always the execution that is missing something.
It always comes back to the same thing: most aspiring authors know they love picture books, but they haven’t yet studied what makes them actually work. There’s a difference between reading as a reader and reading as a writer, and until you make that shift, it’s very hard to diagnose what’s missing in your own work.
So let’s talk about what makes a picture book truly work.
A Picture Book Is Its Own Art Form
Before we get into the elements, it’s worth saying this clearly. A picture book is not a short story with pictures added. It’s not a poem with illustrations. It’s its own distinct art form, with its own rules and its own magic, and when all the elements are working together, the result feels almost effortless. The best ones look simple. But simple is deceptive. Simple is actually very hard.
When the elements aren’t working together, readers feel it, even if they can’t name it. Children feel it too. They just put the book down and ask for a different one.
So what are those elements?
What Makes a Picture Book Work
A character worth caring about
Your main character needs to be relatable, childlike, and likeable, someone a child can see themselves in, or someone whose problem they immediately understand. The character doesn’t have to be a child, but they need to feel like one in spirit. And they need a problem worth solving. Not a vague wish or a general situation, but a real, specific problem that drives the story forward from the very first page.
Words and illustrations that work together
This is one of the most important and most misunderstood aspects of picture books. The words and illustrations don’t just sit alongside each other. They tell the story together. The words don’t describe what the illustrations show, and the illustrations don’t simply decorate the words. Each one adds something the other doesn’t. When this relationship is working well, you get a kind of storytelling that is only possible in this format. That’s what makes picture books so special.
This spread from I Want My Hat Back by Jon Klassen is a beautiful example of text and the illustration working together.
A story arc that builds and pays off
Even in 500 words, your story needs an arc with a clear beginning, a middle, and an ending that feels earned. There needs to be a problem, building action or tension, and a satisfying resolution. Children are surprisingly sensitive to this. If the ending feels unearned or rushed, or if the middle doesn’t build enough tension, they feel it even if they can’t articulate it. A strong story arc (and a relatable character) is what makes a child want to hear the book again and again.
Word economy
In a picture book, every single word matters. There’s no room for fluff, over-explaining, or telling the reader what the illustration is already showing. This is one of the hardest skills to develop, because most of us are used to writing more rather than less. But learning to trust the illustrations, to let white space do its work, and to say in five words what you might otherwise say in fifteen, is what separates a magical manuscript from a “meh” one.
A spread from The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle, showing word economy.
Read-aloud quality
Picture books are almost always read aloud. That means your words need to sound good said aloud, flow naturally, and carry a rhythm that makes reading them a pleasure rather than a chore. Read your manuscript aloud as you write it. If you stumble over a sentence, rewrite it. If a page feels breathless or flat, listen to why. Your ear will catch things your eye misses.
An ending that resonates
The ending is what the child takes with them after the book is closed. It needs to resolve the story satisfyingly, but it also needs to leave something behind – an emotion, a thought, a smile, a question. Some endings circle back to the beginning in a way that feels complete and whole. Others end on a single image or line that stays with you. What they all have in common is that they feel earned. The story built toward something, and when it arrives, it feels right.
But What About the Idea?
Something I’ve heard too often (from aspiring authors) is that a great picture book starts with a groundbreaking or completely original idea. That if their concept isn’t fresh and unique, the book won’t work.
But look at some of the most beloved picture books ever written. Goodnight Moon is a child saying goodnight to the objects in their room. The Very Hungry Caterpillar is a caterpillar eating his way through food before becoming a butterfly. I Want My Hat Back is a bear looking for his hat. None of these are complicated concepts. None of them would stop you in your tracks if someone described the idea at a dinner party.
What makes them extraordinary is not the idea. It’s the execution.
The character is perfectly drawn. The words do exactly what they need to do and nothing more. The illustrations and the text work in harmony. The rhythm is irresistible. The ending works.
So if you’ve been sitting on your idea because you’re worried it isn’t original enough, I want to encourage you to let that go. Your idea is probably fine. What matters now is learning how to execute it well.
And that is absolutely a learnable skill!
Over To You!
Reading Like a Writer
One of the best things you can do right now, before you write a single word of your manuscript, is to start reading picture books like a writer rather than like a reader.
Pick up one of your favourites this week. Read it slowly. And as you read, look for the elements we’ve covered here, ask yourself:
- What is the character’s problem, and when does it become clear?
- Look for a moment where the illustration shows something the words don’t say (a character’s expression, a detail in the background, something funny or surprising happening off to the side). That’s where the words and illustrations are telling the story together.
- How does the tension build through the middle?
- What does the ending leave you with?
- How does it feel to read aloud?
You’ll start to see things you’ve never noticed before, even in books you’ve read dozens of times. That’s the shift from reader to writer, and it will change how you look at every picture book you pick up from here on out.
I’d love to know what you discover.
Comment and tell me one specific thing you noticed when you read like a writer this week. It can be something that impressed you, something that surprised you, or even something you felt wasn’t quite working. All of it is useful.
And if something in this issue raised a question, or if you want to go deeper into any of these elements, hit reply and let me know!
Your picture book deserves to be the best it can be, and that starts with understanding what that looks like.
