Is there a right way to buy a book these days? I say nope, because every book matters. But if you're wondering how your purchase matters to moi, the author, read on.

Authors and illustrators get an equal percentage of every book sold. Since printing costs of picture books are high, that percentage is usually about 10% of the list price, split between them 50/50. Which means for every $10 book sold, I would get $.50 for the hardback, or $.30 for the board book. As you can imagine, the goal is quantity, and any way you buy is good for me in the long run. For example:

• Buy from your local, independent bookstores. This supports authors and local business at the same time, and you definitely do you civic duty going this route. Check Indiebound.org to find out who's carrying in your zip code. If your favorite store isn't listed, please go and request the book --  chances are they'll order more than one.
• Borrow from the library. The author and publisher are only paid once for a library sale (not every time the book is borrowed). But considering that there are 120,000 libraries in the U.S. (compared to about 11,000 bookstores), and that librarians are an author's best friend, getting into libraries is very important to us. Our books stay on library shelves a long time and entice readers who don't have the money for new books; I personally get 95% of my books at the library. So if your library doesn't have a copy, please request they carry it.
• Buy straight from the publisher: In this case Penguin RandomHouse distributes for my publisher Little Bigfoot. Buying here gives the publisher a larger percentage of each sale -- and they will apply their profits to produce more good books -- and hopefully 'hire' the author again.
• Buy from Amazon (or BarnesandNoble.com): I always check customer reviews and comments on Amazon before I buy anything, and these sites add legitimacy and ease for lots of book-buyers. As a giant, they are able to set rates that can hurt the creators, so beware buying anything that's been marked down, and avoid buying "used" unless something is out of print.
• Buy from the author: Authors can buy their own books at wholesale price and sell them in ways that don't compete with these other sellers. The author gets a larger percentage of the book this way ($5 vs. $.50) though the sales don't apply towards royalties and there is the added hassle/cost of shipping. If you'd like to buy a bulk amount for a good cause, live in the neighborhood, or want an autographed copy, this is a good option. (Just email me, but note: there isn't space for inscriptions on Go, Bikes, Go! because it is chock full on every page.)

What about e-books?
These generally function the same way as paper books do, though authors and publishers have been arguing about e-book royalty rates. (Creators believe that the lack of printing costs should translate to larger portions for them -- the standard split is currently 12-20%, which would be halved with the illustrator.) Since board books like Go, Bikes, Go! are made for toddlers, they are not usually offered as e-books, and e-book sales for picture books still make up a small percentage of all sales.

When I moved to Portland fifteen years ago, I owned only a trunk-full of essentials, and the next few years were one of the most creative and expansive times of my life. Now I have a house, a career, a family, and a stability that still surprises me. (Am I now part of the establishment?)

I also have a growing collection of stuff, and am having to learn a different lesson. In short: Don't take it because its free and might have a use someday. (I found these two books pretty motivating in that direction.) So I've been purging my broken furniture and unfinished projects. And I cut down my scrap wood pile to make this headboard (with integrated side tables) and this coffee table inspired by Pinterest. Here's hoping I can pass up the next free box...

This is the cover for my newest board book (to be released to the public in Spring 2019!) Illustrated by Alexander Mostov, published by Little Bigfoot, Go, Bikes, Go! celebrates the variety of bikes and bikers I have seen in my rides around Portland --where an estimated 3.5% of our citizens commute by bike.  (Which seems low, until you compare it to the national average of .4%.) But don't mistake me for a hard-core, lifelong biker. I grew up on a gravel road miles from pavement. No, I didn't really ride a bike until I was twenty-five. Here's the story.

When I moved across the country -- from Washington, DC to Portland, OR, at age twenty-four -- my one and only aim was to "be an artist." Thus starts my fifteen years of teaching jobs and art shows, public projects, rejections, and picture books, the building of my current life. On that fated journey West, I made the very bad decision to buy a new car -- a silver Honda Civic whose interior I can still almost smell. In my second year of "being an artist" and all the part-time, low-paying jobs it entails, I couldn't pay my debts. My student loans got deferred, my credit cards got cut up, and my cute little car got... repossessed. (A relief, by that point.) A friend gave me a bike. 

I remember my first ride, guided by my friend Beth through Portland's streets. I remember her saying, "don't weave in and out of cars, stay straight and in the view of drivers." I remember wavering when I turned corners, sweating profusely, and generally hating it. That was before the rainy season. I don't remember if it took weeks or months to really enjoy biking. But I spent the next three years commuting solely by bike (and bus and borrowed friend.) Those rides are some of my great moments in Portland. Once I found a free drawing table that I balanced all the way home. Once I felt like I was riding straight into the moon (the basis for the painting below) and it was magic. Many times I felt connected to my fellow riders, strong in my own skin, and just happier to be alive. (Something I've never felt in a car.)

I am on my third bike now, and the first one I actually paid for  -- $150 on Craigslist. These days, I share a car with my husband and turn out to be naturally lazy. I bike less than I should and gripe about how busy Portland has gotten. But sometimes still, I feel the magic. Go, Bikes, Go!

Its taken five years to create a completely functional studio. Starting with the blank box of an attached garage, I enclosed the narrow ends with floor-to-ceiling storage. Then came the fun stuff, like these efficient design projects.

Easiest to Make: These picture ledges hold canvases and work in progress, and were made with 1x3s and 1x4s.   

​Most Trial-and-Error:  This large magnet board. Metal sheets were too small to hold much, and magnetic paint was too weak. But lots of recycled jar caps glued to a piece of free shower vinyl --and spray-painted white -- is both strong and cheap. Plus I'm really impressed with myself every time I look at it.

This month, my kid-inspired art was featured on the Community Gallery of Family Heirloom Arts.

What age does drawing start? I have always admired the art of young children, and consider age 5 the creative peak of life. This is when kids start drawing people with big alien eyes and stick arms coming out of their cheeks. But while watching my daughter grow up, I've found that creativity starts even earlier than I imagined. Since she tried painting at 18 months or started scribbling around age two, I have watched quietly as she learns and invents --without censor or fear. Her "loose" style of drawing gets harder to create the older and more experienced I get -- though Picasso and Seuss retained the ability. For myself, I am stealing lines from my daughter and turning her scribbles into large full-color paintings, which remind me of a child's reality-- abstracted, joyful, unbounded.

Please join us at this public art show! My adult students have been channeling modern artists like Picasso, Matisse, Kahlo, and Rothko to make their own renditions of portraits and still-lives. Enjoy art, activities, and snacks with fellow art lovers!