Behind the Scenes of Self Publishing a Children’s Picture Book, When You Don’t Exactly Fit the Mold
If you’re a children’s book author and you’ve ever told someone you’re publishing a children’s book, I’m sure you can relate to what I’m about to say.
There’s a very specific look people give you.
A side eye.
It’s subtle. Almost polite. Not rude. Not openly dismissive. Just deflating.
Like, oh… okay. That.
As if children’s stories are some kind of starter project. A hobby. Something you do before you write “real” books. Or something you do quickly, just to say you did it.
As if the stories we give children don’t shape how they learn to sit with their feelings long before they learn how to argue a point or read a headline.
I didn’t expect that reaction the first few times. But after a while, I started to recognize it easily.
And yes, sometimes I think I might be in my head.
But the way I keep getting those side eyes, I don’t think so anymore.
Once you see it, you can’t unsee it.
The Myths Nobody Warns You About
Let me tell you a few things I’ve learned very quickly on this journey.
Not from books.
Not from YouTube tutorials.
But from conversations, emails, and the silent reactions people give you when you say you’re self publishing a children’s book.
Apparently, children’s books are easy.
“They’re all AI now.”
“Anyone can write one.”
“They don’t really count as literature.”
And if you self publish, well, that definitely doesn’t count.
What people don’t understand is this.
Children’s books require restraint.
They require succinctness.
You don’t get to hide behind long explanations.
You don’t get to over explain your way out of confusion.
You don’t get to say everything you want to say.
You have to know what to leave unsaid and trust the reader to feel it anyway.
That isn’t easy.
That’s discipline.
That’s precision.
Children’s books ask you to be emotionally honest without being overwhelming. Gentle without being shallow. Respectful of a child’s intelligence without demanding adult processing or “dumbing it down.”
If it were easy, more people would do it well.
I Didn’t Have a Strategy, I Had a Pull
I didn’t have a five year plan for becoming an author.
At first, I jumped in the deep end with no floaties.
No market analysis.
No carefully envisioned publishing strategy.
I wish I could tell you I did.
But I didn’t.
What I had was a pull. A gravitational one.
A dream God gave me in the shower.
A story that wouldn’t leave me alone.
An image. A rocking chair.
It kept showing up. Carrying different emotions and meanings I recognized from my childhood and my growing adulthood.
It was heavy with meaning, but soft in intention.
Something unrecognized, but essential, wanted to be honored.
Once I started writing it, I couldn’t unknow it.
Everywhere I went, I kept seeing rocking chairs. Seriously. Everywhere.
That’s the part people don’t talk about enough.
Once you see a story clearly, walking away from it feels like a betrayal.
Not to the market.
To yourself.
Now that the writing stage is finished. The editing phase is complete (thank God). The illustrations are hand drawn and painted. The art direction is almost wrapped up. The behind-the-scenes (BTS) business setup is progressing.
My next stages can begin.
It’s about time I get my plan together. Late is better than never.
I would rather stumble and make it, instead of stumble and quit.
The Industry Numbers That Change the Conversation
At some point, passion isn’t enough. You need context.
So let’s talk about the part of the industry that doesn’t come up casually.
The numbers. The meat and sweet potatoes.
The part that speaks on my ancestral heritage.
In children’s publishing, roughly 12% of books feature Black characters or are written by Black authors.
Black authors make up less than 2% of New York Times bestselling authors.
Those aren’t just statistics.
They’re structural barriers.
They shape who is seen as marketable.
Who gets second chances.
Who is taken seriously early.
And who has to prove themselves over and over again.
So when people say, “it’s just really hard to break in,” I want to ask, hard for whom?
Because difficulty isn’t evenly distributed.
Traditional Publishing Isn’t Neutral, and Self Publishing Isn’t a Shortcut
Here’s something I wish more people would say plainly.
Traditional publishing isn’t neutral.
Gatekeepers have preferences.
They follow trends.
They prioritize certain audiences and chase trendy marketing opportunities.
That doesn’t make them villains.
But it does make the system selective in ways that aren’t aligned with intention, or representation.
Self publishing removes those gatekeepers.
But it also removes the safety net.
No one catches beginner mistakes.
No one funds your learning curve.
No one quietly arranges things behind the scenes.
No widespread industry brand to hide behind.
You pay in money, time, energy, and in my case, emotional labor.
The Jobs Nobody Mentions
When you self publish, you don’t just write the book.
That’s just the beginning.
You become the writer.
The editor.
The art director.
The project manager.
The illustrator assistant.
The logistics coordinator.
The researcher.
The distributor.
The marketing department.
The social media manager.
The HR department.
The email strategist.
The bookkeeper.
The advocate.
The accountant.
The bank.
The BRAND.
And the main person who believes in the book when no one else has seen it yet!
Every decision is yours.
And so is every consequence.
That level of responsibility can be empowering.
And exhausting.
Especially when your body, energy, or circumstances don’t allow you to move at industry speed.
What Actually Helped Me, and What Didn’t
I’m still in this process. I’m not at the finish line.
I didn’t get here by grinding harder.
That is my biggest mistake.
I survived by listening to people who told the truth.
Organizations, creators, and family members who didn’t sell false hope.
My Maba for consistent support both financially and emotionally.
My Aunt Thia for helping me to think about things differently.
AALBC for championing Black resources and literature.
The Alliance of Independent Authors for transparency.
IBPA for indie accessibility and standards.
Julie, The Book Broad, for honest conversations and education.
Eevi Jones for children’s writing craft clarity and expert precision.
April Cox for breaking children’s publishing systems down clearly.
Author Media for author strategy and maximum effectiveness.
99designs for visual collaboration of all sorts.
And then there were voices that didn’t teach tactics at all.
They reminded me why I started.
Because doubt shows up often in this process.
Let’s Talk About the Money
Children’s books cost money.
Yes, there are cheaper routes.
But if you want to show up looking comparable to traditionally published books, you have to hire professionals.
Illustration.
Design.
Printing.
Distribution.
ISBNs.
Copyrights.
Marketing.
Systems.
Timelines.
Customer service.
You can cut corners.
But the book will show it.
When people say, “just put it out there,” they usually aren’t talking about children’s books.
Quality here isn’t optional.
Children notice when something is missing, and they will articulate that.
So when I ask for support, I’m not asking for charity.
I’m asking for participation.
If this resonates.
If you believe children’s stories like mine matter.
If you want more care, more representation, more respect, more intention on shelves, that belief has to be backed by resources.
Support the work.
Sharing.
Reading.
Donating.
Following.
Reviewing.
Supporting.
Commenting.
Collaborating.
Are all ways you can back this dream, and help it come to life.
Not because it’s trendy.
But because stories shape who belongs and who we become long before we realize it.
Download freebies.
Join the Newsletter.
Join the launch team.
Donate to this project.
Why I Choose This Anyway
I didn’t choose children’s publishing because it is “easy”.
Or for “quick” money.
Yes, I need to pay my bills.
But the value children receive from stories that respect them matters more to me.
I chose this because it felt true to who I am and who I’m becoming.
Because inclusive, diverse, small moment centered stories matter.
Because representation isn’t a trend or marketing buzzword.
It’s a responsibility.
Children deserve books that don’t rush them or underestimate them.
And sometimes, the most radical thing you can do is insist that gentleness belongs in the world too.
If You’re Thinking About Doing This Too
Let me tell you something I wish someone had told me early on.
You’re not behind because you’re tired.
You’re not failing because you’re moving slowly.
You’re not naive for caring about quality.
You’re not slacking because you’re learning as you go.
This work asks a lot.
And if you’re still here, still learning, still showing up, still trying to tell that story, that says something about you.
Key Takeaways (for the 1 minute readers)
Children’s books are not a lesser form of storytelling. They require precision, restraint, and emotional honesty.
Self publishing is not a shortcut. It removes gatekeepers but adds responsibility, cost, and emotional labor.
Traditional publishing is not neutral, and access is not evenly distributed across authors.
Quality in children’s books matters because children notice when care is missing.
Moving slowly does not mean you are failing. It often means you are building something sustainable.
Gentleness, representation, and intention in storytelling are not trends. They are responsibilities.
Thanks for sitting with me awhile.
Until next time my friend,
Tybre’ana