Herman and Rosie - Notes on the book's themes and inspirations (Parts of this essay featured in CBCA Reading Time magazine, 2013)

I was a huge reader as a kid. I read Enid Blyton madly, I loved Kenneth Graham’s Wind in The Willows and I devoured Jules Verne’s 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea. I still regard those books highly. I read ahead of my age but I never lost sight of picture books. As a child who drew constantly, it was always the pictures that attracted me initially, however I think I understood, though couldn’t articulate it at the time, that there was much more going on beyond what I could see in the pictures and the words. There was a kind of magic there, secretly happening in between the visual and textual that made the whole book more interesting. The picture books that I enjoyed the most were those that seemed to have many layers of this magic – many layers of story. Even Richard Scarry, who was never truly appreciated amongst the children’s literature community, wrote (and illustrated) stories with lots of layers. His books weren’t just Raccoon-driving-cement-truck-action, there was often an underlying sweetness within and messages that were subtly woven in. You could never see it all on first reading.

Herman and Rosie is a layered picture book. There’s quite a bit going on and rather than spell out all the details to the reader (which I detest), I hope that they are able to connect the dots and come to their own conclusions, even if this is only on a level that they are able to understand.

Herman and Rosie is the end result of an idea that I had been playing with for a while. That idea is the notion that we as humans need to coexist, but by the very nature of the way this happens, we can often feel separated from those around us to a point where we feel cut off, isolated. The concept of feeling alone, surrounded by millions fascinates me. It's a universal theme. I am also constantly intrigued with the way that we all find each other. By that I mean, how we, self consciously or otherwise, are drawn to other like-minded people and how the smallest connection can often turn out to be the most valuable. In this story it is music that connect Herman and Rosie at first, and later loss, although the reader sees that there are other, slightly quirky, interests that bind them. A story about two characters who felt lonely living in a big city and the possible connections that they may have without their knowledge was the driving motivation for me to write Herman and Rosie. The intrinsic question being, ‘will they ever meet or will they, like ships in the night, silently pass each other?’

I’ve wanted to write an urban tale for some time. Something to do with growing up in the country, I suppose. I love the whole ‘city mouse, country mouse’ theme where the city can seem so alien. I also wanted to write a story where music was a key component so bringing these things together was very satisfying. I’m surprised music isn’t used in picture books more often as it’s such a powerful connector.

New York was always going to be the city where the book was set. I love the place. I feel so alive there. It’s the perfect setting for two characters trying to make their way in a modern, albeit retro looking, world. New York also has that ‘film noir’ cinematic feel that I was looking for.

Visually I knew that collage was going to be the most important medium used. It’s such a potent medium and it adds depth to the layers of story but it has to be used cautiously as it can just as easily distract the reader if it jumps from the page too much. The tricky part is trying to marry all the collage elements together. Other than collage I used pencil, crayon, watercolour and acrylics. Crayon is particularly liberating. It makes me feel like a child again and I like that.

Writing Herman and Rosie was equal parts challenging and fun. I learnt a great deal that I didn’t know before I began. I used to think that the process of writing picture books was going to get easier but I have a feeling they’re all going to be hard work. Thankfully I find the same process enormously rewarding.

At the moment I am writing my next book while working on (illustrating) another picture book. Although I am not especially good at dividing my brain between two projects, I do like to have something else on the go. It’s a primal ‘hope for the future’ kind of thing. My sketchbooks are filled with story shrapnel – ideas that are going nowhere, some that will travel a little way and perhaps some, if I’m lucky, that may even make it down the road. I can never tell which of these is which. I only know that until I believe in it, I can’t expect anyone else to do so.