Children’s and Young Adult Literature Can Also Have Very Young Authors

Babies know exactly what to do: breathe, eat, cry, and, hopefully, sleep. For everything else, they need support. Gradually, however, they learn to dress themselves, wash up, build things, and formulate theories. Independence also grows with books: first, they listen to stories; then they read alone. They choose their own books in stores at their height. However, the starting point is always determined: whatever the little one chooses, it will be written by someone grown-up.

“A staggering amount of children’s and young adult literature is published. It’s striking that none of it involves the children themselves. They are supposedly discussing the future of the world and their own, yet they cannot express their opinions,” reflects Vicente Ferrer Azcoiti, editor of Media Vaca. That’s why he has been asking them for years. And helping them create their own works, just like a handful of editors from different countries who share the same conviction: the best authors of children’s books are the children themselves.

This belief is supported by the Portuguese Fábrica de Histórias and the German Buchkinder, as well as the Irish Kids’ Own Publishing and their Australian branch. The location, nuances, and legal framework (publishers or non-profit organizations) may differ, but they all subvert the usual chain of command: leading the plots, drawings, and sometimes even the layout, are the kids. Meanwhile, adults work behind the scenes, coordinating and contributing as they can.

Thanks to their workshops, thousands of children around the globe have already fulfilled the dream that many adults chase their entire lives: seeing their own book on a shelf. Some even have two. Adrián E., Iona, or Iriana published their first work at just six years old: along with a few classmates, they illustrated ¡Que vuelvan los estorninos!, published by Media Vaca. Now that they are eight, they are preparing their second editorial venture in another workshop: a story written and illustrated by 25 students from the Municipal School of Benimaclet (Valencia), each contributing a piece.

“All children have the right to contribute to the culture around them; their voices should be valued and celebrated. They are innately creative, yet we do not provide enough space, opportunities, or recognition to help them see that their imagination knows no bounds. Being part of a real project that remains, like a book, supports this idea,” notes Anna Dollard, creative director of the Australian parent organization of Kids’ Own Publishing. She explains their workshops, similar to those of Media Vaca or Fábrica de Histórias: usually lasting several weeks, with artists who serve their tiny professional peers to foster and ground their ideas. Once consensus is reached, they move to production; children create, adjust, refine, monitor, and analyze the progress, and their final approval must, of course, be theirs. “The level of respect must be the same as with professionals,” Ferrer asserts. Finally, the results are showcased in print for creators, families, educators, and, if possible, libraries or bookstores.

The spark can come from the organizations themselves, schools, museums, libraries, or other entities that request their services. Rui Andrade, who, along with Raquel Salgueiro, leads Fábrica de Histórias, sets just a couple of conditions: that the workshop is held during school hours and relates to the local community or what is being addressed in school. “It doesn’t have to rank above other tasks, but it must have soul,” he insists.

From there, the variety of situations skyrockets: there are projects with dozens, hundreds, or even thousands of young authors. Andrade previously spoke with each of the 2,500 participants in one of their recent publications. Ages range from almost newborns to full adolescence. Along the way, parents, mothers, and even grandparents can become involved. The Portuguese organization has also expanded the process to theater and film: they also nurture young directors, animators, and soundtrack composers. In the end, everything culminates in what Dollard summarizes: “Texts and illustrations come to life through an emerging, iterative, and community-driven artistic process, where ideas converge, agreements are reached, commitments are made, and a meticulously unique story is born.” And it is childlike in all the best senses.

Because an adult mind would hardly have conceived De la mosca y su utilidad, created by Media Vaca with seven-year-old creators from the Benimaclet school. Or Brincar a sério (Jumping Seriously), written and illustrated by students from Casa da Criança de Tires, along with Fábrica de Histórias. Or The Cheeky Rabbit, one of the projects Dollard is most proud of: every Saturday, for five weeks, a Hazara community (an Afghan ethnic group speaking Persian) in the outskirts of Melbourne shared their stories and customs. The grandmothers also taught the rest of the group their traditional embroidery. Together, they discussed what book to create, but the decisive vote fell to the children: they established that they would take charge, with family support.

Thus, the saga of a young rabbit began, leaving his happy home in search of adventures but ultimately returning relieved after dodging several dangers. The work includes collages with fabrics and images of typical community objects, and it is read from right to left. When it was published, John Gulzari, the expert who advised the process, celebrated it as one of the first opportunities to share narratives in the Hazaragi language, mostly oral and repressed by the Taliban. The director of Kids’ Own Publishing considers it a cornerstone of her organization, especially in a multicultural country like Australia. After all, its mission is to tell the stories of those who are not heard. Children’s literature sometimes defines its audience with the formula “for everyone.” Here, it aims to make that true.

These publications, from the start, are by many. “Collective works,” Ferrer calls them. “They reflect a moment of teamwork and the real interests of the children. No matter how much an adult tries to imitate them, the original will always be more authentic,” Dollard adds. It turns out, in passing, that young authors even teach their supposed teachers: the Australian expert emphasizes that children’s creations often contain fewer “messages” and moral lessons than most books directed at them and, against the “growing homogenization of the sector,” offer stories and voices that are as unique as they are unexpected. Furthermore, Dollard highlights: “They do not stem from strategic plans or sales imperatives.”

A reason for joy, of course. But also for difficulty, as Rui Andrade clarifies: their model is as commendable and inclusive as it is costly, and nearly impossible to sustain with market revenues. The Portuguese editor has known this since 2012 through Fábrica de Histórias, but two years earlier, he opened Cabeçudos, the first bookstore specialized in children’s and youth literature in Lisbon. He understands that the limited profitability explains why not many more experiences like these arise worldwide. “Working with children and publishing their works requires an ethical framework that contrasts with the commercial publishing model. Sales income cannot sustain, nor should it, this community activity. This brings us back to taking seriously the creativity and ideas of the little ones,” argues Dollard. “We should consider what kind of publishing market we want and what books are for,” Ferrer adds.

At the moment, economic accounts often do not add up. They must rely on voluntary efforts or public funding. The balance of satisfaction, however, remains more than active. One teacher shared with Rui Andrade what a young creator confided to her: “He no longer feared drawing.” And one of the young authors of The Cheeky Rabbit video-called her grandmother in Afghanistan to show her the work. The slogan of Kids’ Own Publishing reads: “Changing the world, one book at a time.” In very small steps, but very big. Just like its artists.