Biography:

            When I was a child, my favorite game was Authors. I memorized the portraits of the authors on the playing card so that even before I could read, I could identify Louisa May Alcott and Charles Dickens by their portraits. I hoped that one day I would be an author and would see my name in gold print beneath the title of my books. By the grace of God, this wish has come true.

            I began writing in first grade as soon as I clutched my fat red pencil. I composed a short poem and set it to a tune that I composed at my child-size piano. My teachers and parents encouraged my passion for words. I read constantly and memorized many of Robert Louis Stevenson’s poems from A Child’s Garden of Verses. One of my favorites:

                                   “The friendly cow all red and white,
                                   I love with all my heart:
                                   She gives me cream with all her might
                                   To eat with apple tart.”

I quoted later on in life when milking our cow, Lottie.

            Because I spent many hours in the library, I became good friends with the children’s librarian, Mrs. Borosco who told me about the Hunt Club, a section for young writers in the Horn Book Magazine. Mrs. Borosco encouraged me to send my stories and poems to the Hunt Club with the hope that they might publish them. Though none of my writings were ever published, I saved my rejection letters and felt like a real author. One kind young editor even wrote me with editorial suggestions and complimented me on how she had watched my writing improve over the past two years. Enthused by her affirmation, I organized my writings, illustrated them, and bound them in a book that I still have today, a testimony to my determination to be published and my awful spelling.

            When I was about ten and moping around during a dreary winter day, my mother suggested that I write Rumer Godden a letter and tell her how much I loved her books about dolls. I did so, and one March day brilliant with daffodils, I skipped home from school and discovered a letter bearing an English stamp. Holding that letter from Rumer Godden impressed upon me that real people wrote the books I cherished, and my wish to become an author could happen.

            I wrote stories through high school and college. After I married my fruit farmer husband, John Van Voorhees, my time was devoted to establishing our organic farm, home schooling our sons, and maintaining our homestead. But from those rich experiences, I draw ideas and details for my stories. Writing is a way of looking at life and through words; I examine the details, the challenges and the joys that surround us.

 So you want to write:

            Stories sprout from people having problems. As the people resolve the problems, they discover more about themselves, about others, and about life. If you want to write, read as many books as your arms can carry home from the library. Watch people, and see how they react in your classrooms and family life.

            And write. Carry paper in your pocket or backpack. When I teach writing, I tell students that writing is talk written down. Don’t worry too much about spelling and punctuation as you spill out those words and thoughts. (I am a hopeless speller) When you rewrite that story or poem, you will clean up those mistakes. Dig deep in your heart. The characters in your story must feel so real to you that you could hold their hands and help them with their problems.

            Ask a friend, a parent, or a teacher, to read what you write. Always thank them for taking the time to read your writings. Their comments might sting, but let them simmer in the back of your brain. I have found that sometimes their advice makes more sense after a week or so.

            If you are an older person, join the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators. This organization offers workshops, conferences, critique groups, and many new friends who love children’s books. My good friend, Karmen Kooyers, and I started a critique group, and in the beginning we were the only two members. Now six of us meet to comment on each other’s writing, to comfort one another when a manuscript is rejected, and we celebrate when one of us publishes. I cannot imagine surviving as a writer without the fellowship of these fellow writers. I thank God for them, and for blessing me with two published books.

            “Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desire of your heart.” Psalm 37:4.