Check These Out: Picture Books by Eric Pinder

Greetings from the frozen north! (Yes, we had a snow visitation recently.)


’Tis the season to be jolly as the well-known Christmas carol goes. And I can guarantee some jolliness when you check out the following picture books by the erudite and extraordinary Eric Pinder.


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Both books were illustrated by Stephanie Graegin and published by Farrar, Straus Giroux. Eric is represented by Ammi-Joan Paquette. Stick around till the end of the interview to learn about the giveaway. Ho-ho-ho!


Kitty dressed as Santa? Perhaps she has something to do with this giveaway?

El Space: Four quick facts about yourself?
Eric: (1) Once upon a time, I worked at an observatory on top of a mountain and commuted home—well, partway home—by sled. As job perks go, it’s hard to beat an eight-mile sled ride.
(2) The last time I bought a new vehicle, it was a unicycle.
(3) My summer job in high school was working on a dairy farm. But the cows there couldn’t type.
(4) I still want to be an astronaut when I grow up.

The author reading one of his picture books to a library lion

The author reading one of his picture books to a library lion

El Space: You’ve written two books in the sharing with a bear series. They are utterly delightful! What inspired this series?
Eric: Thank you! Building blanket forts and blanket caves with nephews inspired the setting of the first book. Usually character or plot comes to me first, but this time the first thing the Muses gave me was a clear image of the setting for the opening scene. I could picture the room, and the cave, and someone reading inside it by flashlight.

For a long time, the working title of what became How to Share with a Bear was just “Cave.” I didn’t have any idea yet how the story would end or even who all the characters were. But I knew right away it would start with a blanket cave. And what lives in caves? A bear!

After reading How to Share with a Bear, students at Polaris Charter School made blanket caves.—Polaris Charter School, Manchester, NH

After reading How to Share with a Bear, students at Polaris Charter School made blanket caves.—Polaris Charter School, Manchester, NH

The themes about sharing and siblings developed from there.

El Space: Picture books have had a resurgence in publishing lately. Why do you suppose that is the case?
Eric: Picture books are such amazing works of art that adults often appreciate them too. At craft fairs and book signings, sometimes adults will wistfully browse the picture books and confide, sounding almost embarrassed, “I wish I had grandkids, because I still love picture books.”

Of course, the elaborate pictures and design also make them expensive to print, which probably makes publishers and readers alike choosier when budgets are tight. I don’t know, but I’d guess the resurgence is a combination of the economy improving and the Millennial generation starting to have children and looking for good books.

White Birch Books made bear-shaped cookies for a recent How to Build a Snow Bear book signing. The kids approved.

White Birch Books made bear-shaped cookies for a recent How to Build a Snow Bear book signing. The kids approved.

El Space: What drew you to picture books?
Eric: Until almost age 30, I had no inkling that I’d someday write books for children. In high school, I wanted to write science fiction like Ray Bradbury. In college, a class about nature writing introduced me to writers like Annie Dillard and Barry Lopez, and since I’d always liked the outdoors, that became my focus. Then a funny thing happened: everyone in my circle of friends started having kids. Suddenly, their houses were full of books by Seuss and Boynton.


There’s a poetry to picture books—a kind of music. While hiking with two friends and their six-month-old on the Imp Trail in the White Mountains one day, I heard them recite from memory the entire text of a Dr. Seuss book. The humor and the rhythm of the words, and the obvious delight of the audience—their toddler—gave me a real appreciation for the work and lyricism that go into picture books.


I just wish I had the talent to illustrate them, too. I admire and envy those who do. At the end of one book signing, when things were slow, I was absentmindedly doodling on a scrap paper. A customer across the room noticed the book cover on display, and her eyes lit up. “Ooh!” she said excitedly. “Are you the illustrator?” Then, walking closer, she noticed my drawing, frowned, and said, “Oh. No, you’re not.

El Space: Oh my goodness! I guess she didn’t realize how rude that sounded. . . . In an interview awhile back with CNN, famed picture book author Mo Willems was asked how to create a timeless tale. Is that something you think about when you write a picture book? Why or why not?
Eric: I like that quote by Mo Willems, “Always think of your audience, but never think for your audience.” I think there are certain universal emotions or experiences, like sharing or anxiety or trying new things, that can help keep a story timeless even if it’s presented in a topical way. A century or two from now, I’m sure, there will be kids who want to drive the family spaceship instead of the bus. But I’d bet Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus would still resonate with them, because it’s not so much the topical vehicle that matters—it’s the underlying idea of imagining a pigeon or a child driving something big and bulky and thus capable of fun mayhem, which usually only the adults get to drive, that’s amusing and timeless.


El Space: What advice do you have for budding picture book authors?
Eric: Because picture books are real aloud, performed in a sense by the parent or teacher or babysitter, the cadence of every sentence and the sound of every syllable is important. I recommend reading poetry, as well as picture books, to get a feel for the sounds of words and the moods and nuances they can convey. I like to think of poetry as “using the language as a musical instrument, to convey emotion or meaning.” Stephen Fry’s The Ode Less Travelled is a funny, informative book about poetic meter. It’s helped me a lot with writing picture books. But the biggest help was taking the picture book semester at VCFA.


El Space: What will you work on next?
Eric: New ideas for picture books spring up all the time. Sometimes just witnessing a silly pet pratfall, or hearing a heartwarming anecdote, or noticing a strange word combination or phrase on a billboard can start the wheels in motion on a new story. Recently I’ve been revising a picture book about a little girl on Mars. I’m also finishing up a narrative nonfiction book about the joys and challenges of teaching in the era of standardized tests and student loans. When I teach nature writing at our college, we go on a lot of class field trips in the woods, so there’s a bear in that book, too.

My next picture book, The Perfect Pillow, is forthcoming in 2018. Surprisingly, that one does not include a bear, but there’s still a lot of sharing. And a dragon.

Thank you, Eric, for being my guest!

Looking for Eric? You can find him on Facebook, Twitter, and his website.

You can find How to Share with a Bear, How to Build a Snow Bear, and other picture books by Eric Pinder at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Wal-Mart, Powells, and possibly on your own front doorstep. One of you will win How to Share with a Bear and How to Build a Snow Bear. Simply comment below, giving the title of a favorite picture book you had as a child (or now), to be entered into the drawing. The winner will be announced on December 15. Stayed tuned for more book giveaways and information on Kitty Santa!

Author photo by Jenn Pinder. Cookie photo by Eric Pinder. Book covers from Goodreads. Dr. Seuss image from Snow and Kitty photos by L. Marie.

Silence and Space


Space Series

The incomparable (and extremely gracious) Sandra Nickel, another friend from VCFA, returns to the blog with the fifth installment of the Space Series. (The first post in the series can be found here, the second here, the third here, and the fourth here.) Feel free to check out her awesome blog. Sandra is currently researching her next novel and in her spare time attempting to unlock her inner poet with Stephen Fry’s The Ode Less Travelled.


I was in Morocco’s Draa Valley, approaching the Sahara, when I received L. Marie’s invitation to write on the theme of space. Thinking of her, I opened my mind to ideas and watched as our guide drove us past the last village and into the world’s largest desert. Scrub turned to rocks, rocks to rubble. And then, sand—fine and bleached. And sky—flawlessly azure, with not even a wisp of white intruding.


Photo of the Sahara by Olivia Schlaepfer

This was expanse as we rarely see it. The world without interruption. The sort of openness that brings on thoughts of creativity at its most fundamental. After all, the genesis of all creation, no matter who tells the story, is the void. The thing that comes before and in between. Space, in other words.

I watched this expanse from my window and was soon thinking of a smaller kind of creation. Mine.

When I was just starting to write, a good friend, who is also a creative being—a singer and songwriter—took my agenda and marked out an entire month’s worth of mornings and afternoons. She said: Even if you don’t look like you are working, even if you don’t think you are working, you are. You need to be bored before you can create. By bored, I believe she meant quiet, without interruption, in the void.


Writers often talk about feeding the muse, creative dates, setting aside an entire month to speed write a novel. But equally important is the inspiration of space and silence. How would we solve our problems without the quiet of a walk or the solitude of a run? Without the pause between first draft and revision? Silence and space are often keys to creativity.

After I arrived in the Sahara, and my family and I trekked on camels and struggled to the top of the highest dune, I awoke in the night. As the others slept in their tents, I padded through the cold, dry sand, away from the camp, to take in the immense firmament that was above. I stood, ready to be awed, but it wasn’t the magnificence of the night sky that struck me, although the sky was magnificent. What awed me was the quiet. No stir of the camels, no airplane far in the sky, no wind. Silence.

Silence as I have never heard it.

483px-Emily_Dickinson_daguerreotypeI listened, and this time I thought of Emily Dickinson and her “Tell all the truth but tell it slant”—and how the quiet of space is needed for slant. To form the gorgeous metaphor, to set up the objective correlative, to deepen and curl meaning around itself. I gazed again at the sky; I listened again to the Sahara.

When I arrived in Marrakech and visited its souk, I stepped into the opposite of silence and space. Every inch is crowded and full of potential missteps. Wanting to buy something only makes it worse. Intense negotiations begin. Taunts and happy insults are thrown fast furious, until—and this is the important part—the owner, at least the person you thought was the owner, turns to a man in the corner. It is this man, the one who has silently watched everything, who is judged to have enough distance (read: space) to make the final decision.

As an analogy to writing, I love this. The writer spies an attractive idea and haggles with the muse. The exchange is heated and intense, and not always a lot of fun, although the writer may pretend to the outside world that it is. When the negotiations draw to a close, the muse turns to a person in the corner. It takes a bit of time to recognize just who that person is—perhaps two weeks, perhaps a month—but, then, it all becomes clear. It is the writer herself, now with enough distance, to make the decision of whether the creative exchange can come to an end, or another round is needed.

And so, you see, Morocco repeatedly told of the importance of silence and space. Absolutely join in the chaos of the souk and the rush to write a novel in 30 days. But remember: whether beginning, or searching out the slant, or revising to the end, the quiet and void will always be essential to creativity.


Emily Dickinson and Marrakech photos from Wikipedia. Book cover from Goodreads. Calendar from