From Cloudy Days to Storytime: What If We Told Kids the Truth About Sadness?

Embracing writing…

“Helping children understand emotions through honest stories and heartfelt conversations.”

I’ve used the analogy of “feeling a wave” to personify my depression more times than I wish I had to. I’d say, one day I should write a book about it, and then, very slowly, I began to think about what that book would actually say.

As I developed the story, the wave turned into a cloud. It followed me throughout the day. And it became easier to tell my husband, “I feel like I have a cloud with me,” when depression suddenly hit or I felt a panic attack creeping in.

The easier it became to talk about, the easier the words flowed.

(fun fact, they flowed into a rhyming tale, maybe one day I’ll post the early draft)

From Cloud to Manuscript

Then came a season of constant health setbacks, a storm cloud I couldn’t shake. Everything was heavy. I’d scroll through Reddit threads late at night, sometimes looking for answers, sometimes just hoping to feel less alone.

Eventually, I realized I needed something more than scrolling. I needed something to focus on. Something to pull me out instead of under.

So I returned to writing.

The rhymes came first again. Then I expanded, because I had more to say. Reading it aloud to Alma, she’d drop these incredible one-liners that felt like magic. Somehow, a first draft came together.

But then… I did everything wrong.

Rejection, Feedback, and the Turning Point

The planner in me is still a little ashamed. I rushed to queries, I sent manuscripts out. And while it was all wrong, I kept going, because even without knowing what I was doing, I needed to do it. 

I told myself I had until September. After all, the average query takes six months. But the rejections came quicker than I expected.

None of them criticized the writing directly. They just said, “I don’t connect with this.”
And honestly? I get it. I don’t want to connect with depression either. But that’s the weight I carry—and the story I chose to tell.

Then, one traditional publisher replied. They weren’t going to accept me either, but this time, they offered something different: honesty.

Real feedback.

1. They said I was too wordy. At around 1,100 words, my manuscript ran longer than the industry standard of 800 to 1,000. If they took it on, they’d have to cut it down. That meant gutting the story, taking out either Alma or Max’s shining moments. They’d also simplify the language, strip it back, maybe even “dumb it down.”

Did you know:  Curious George is 1,807, Dr. Seuss books hit over 1,200

Not that I can’t handle edits, but those moments are the heart. The language was intentional. Every word carried weight, mine, Alma’s, Max’s. To cut them would be to erase something real. And also because I don’t think we should talk down to our children. 

2. They said they’d change the names to be more mass marketplace.

Okay. After many beta reads, I finally cut the word booty that Alma had managed to sneak in there. But she named our snowman. She named our mermaid. She named our adventures.

And she’s three years old. She is the market.

So no, I wasn’t willing to take her real words out just to make it more “sellable.” 

Choosing the Independent Route

I turned to self-publishing. Honestly, after a year of wildly successful foodie influencing, I knew I was up for this kind of passionate hustle. I’d built something from scratch before. I knew how to chase a vision. This time, the product isn’t a product, it’s a story. 

One I believed in with my whole heart.

This time, I did everything right. I researched the market. I reached out to a la carte resources. I created a spreadsheet to map out my options. I felt ready to say, “This conversation, this organization, makes me feel comfortable, let’s see the package.” 

If you’ve ever felt like your story didn’t fit the mold, this book is for you. You can follow along or support the project https://gofund.me/af3ec8eb

Now you’re caught up. The story is just getting started.

Final Encouragement

One bright day, a traditional publisher told me they couldn’t manage the illustration side, but they’d buy the book once it was published.

That’s proof that my story matters, even if the path isn’t traditional.

And yours does too.