There’s a folder on my computer with a very rough draft of a children’s chapter book in it. It’s been sitting there for almost a year. I open it every once in a while. I skim a chapter or two. I close it again.

And yet, here I am, still thinking about it. This book won’t leave me alone. Maybe it’s pride, but I don’t like the idea of beginning a project and not finishing it. Also, this is a book I want to exist for my children, at the ages they are.

I’ve written and illustrated three picture books already. Picture books are familiar territory for me: fewer words, more space to breathe, a beginning and an ending that fit neatly between two covers. I know how they work. I know how to finish them. But, this book is different because it’s an early chapter book. The chapters are short and simple, meant for kids who are just beginning to feel brave enough to read on their own. The content is science-y. and it’s the kind of book my kids reach for when they want something steady and kind and familiar.

The kind of book I’ve been thinking about for over a year.

Let’s go back: I started it quickly, almost accidentally. The idea came easily. The characters showed up fully formed. I wrote a very messy draft in stolen moments: between homeschool, while dinner simmered, late at night when the house finally went quiet.

And then I stopped.

I could list lots of reasons why I stopped, but let’s focus on moving forward: This is my first chapter book, and I want to do it well.

That’s a heavier thing to carry than it sounds.

So the draft no longer sits waiting. It’s asking for attention and courage. I’m coming back to it with purpose and direction and I feel really excited about it. I want to tell the truth here, even if it’s messy or disapointing, about what it looks like to build a small book carefully, to make a big impact.

Mostly, it’s about listening to a story that refuses to be ignored.

So here’s what I’m doing this week:

I’m opening the rough draft again and turning it into a better rough draft.

I’m printing it out, because everything feels clearer on paper, and going at it with a colorful felt-tip pen like it owes me money.

I’m sketching a few things to go along with it. Enter: spaceship. I said what I said.

I’m tweaking the storyline where it feels wobbly and leaving alone what feels solid.

Mostly, I’m trying not to overthink it, just touching the story again and letting it remember me.