Let’s start with the myth: writing fiction for children is easy.
Because kids aren’t fussy, right? They’ll read any old tosh so long as there’s a fart joke and a talking dog.
Except they are.
And they won’t.
Writing fiction for children—good fiction for children—is one of the toughest assignments a writer can take on. Not because children are less sophisticated readers than adults, but because they are more honest ones.
Unapologetically so.
If a child is bored by a story, they won’t plough on out of politeness or in the hope the twist will be worth it by chapter nine. They’ll close the book and go and build a spaceship out of cereal boxes instead.
Harsh?
Maybe. But refreshingly so. Children have no time for flab, filler, or anything that feels false. If your characters don’t ring true, if your story doesn’t grab them from the start, they’ll be off.
And they’ll take their imaginations with them.
Then there’s the balance to strike.
Children’s fiction needs to do it all.
It must entertain, educate, amuse, maybe even comfort—all while using language that’s accessible, but never patronising. A younger reader doesn’t want to be talked down to. They want to be trusted to feel big things and understand difficult ideas, even if they don't yet have all the words for them. And if you don’t trust them?
They’ll spot that too.
So yes, it’s hard to write well for children. But here’s the real kicker—it’s even harder to get that writing published.
Why?
Because children’s fiction is a saturated, competitive market. Publishers receive mountains of manuscripts claiming to be “…the next Harry Potter” (spoiler alert: a ‘next Harry Potter’ isn’t needed) or “…perfect for fans of David Walliams.”
Many are submitted with little understanding of what children actually read, or what teachers, parents, guardians, librarians et al) look for when choosing books. And because children’s publishing is also a business, there’s a preference—understandable, perhaps—for authors with a platform, or for stories that fit tried-and-tested moulds.
Something new, fresh, different?
Brilliant—if it still sells.
And that’s another truth: children's fiction must appeal to at least two audiences. The child who reads it, and the adult who buys it. It’s a fine line.
Too zany or subversive and parents might say no.
Too bland and you lose the kids.
Somewhere in between is the magic—and that’s not easy to find.
So no, writing fiction for children isn’t an easy route to literary glory. It’s a challenge that demands skill, empathy, and a deep respect for your reader. It’s about storytelling stripped to its purest form. And when it works—when a child clutches your book to their chest and says “…again!”—there’s no better reward.
But easy?
Never.
