On my days off, I am, among other things, a writer of novelty booklets with illustrations that look 3-D. On my days on, I am a veterinary assistant at a premier animal shelter in Boulder, Colorado. That’s perfect, because many of my booklets are about pets. My target audience for these booklets is pet-loving, fun-loving women of educated, open-minded nature: exactly the type you’d find in the vet exam rooms in The Republic of Boulder.

Yet, there I was a few days ago peering into the exam room at my vet clinic, suited up in my blue scrubs, watching two young children tossing around the booklet I had placed in the room to gain exposure, called How to Entertain Your Cat. It made me think about Lesli, the head vet at the clinic, whose daughter adored the book after her mother had bought it for her at the local charity auction last year. The 8-year-old girl even decided to create her own small picture booklet, having been so inspired.

That thought drew me back to my co-worker Carla, telling me her 8-year-old daughter Alex was so in love with that same booklet of mine, she had opened her first email account using my name in the handle, Alexa, instead of Alex. Her mother warned me, “When she meets you, don’t expect her to talk much. She’ll be much too nervous.” 

Carla made me think of Audrey, a spunky, Boulder-fit lady who moonlights as our clinic volunteer and works for the local school system as a literary coach for children. “The fact that the pages flip up instead of over,” she told me, “means that many kids with reading difficulties are more likely to pick them up and try them out, because they don’t feel like they’re looking at a traditional book, with all their usual anxiety attached.” She took several copies to show her connections at the school.

This was not my plan. I mean, I recognize that my illustrations are cartoons, and the fact of having illustrations to begin with automatically slots the booklets into an instinctive, childlike category. My style of writing for the books is influenced by one of my great idols, Dr. Suess, so why am I surprised when kids seem to love the books?

Now, the fun-loving, youthful women I meant to target also like my books…my “grown-up picture books.” I have a couple collectors who must have every booklet regardless of topic. But this audience, thus far in my limited experience, has been harder to find and tap into. The kids, on the other hand, see what looks like their normal fare. And they love it zealously.

This issue is particularly troublesome at present because my husband and I have just begun enjoying our recently vasectomized decision to have children. That is to say, we permanently aren’t having them. We know that having kids is probably the most important thing most people ever do. We appreciate that the love for one’s child is absolutely, unconditionally unlike any other love one will ever feel. I could say that we have decided not to have children because we know our finances won’t support them (hey, I’m an aspiring writer.) I could add that we believe the world is overpopulated and that we shouldn’t add to it. I could also note that at 34, I’m still young enough to produce a healthy child, but time is running out. But the real reason we decided not to have them is because…we don’ wanna.

My husband and I imagine a life of adult conversation. Adult company. Adult activities. Adult opinions being expressed in adult fashion, without any filters or limitations. No screaming in the background. And a nice dirty martini in hand.

I don’t feel an inclination to write for children, and yet, my brain sees the world like a kid when it comes to my illustrated writings. I love the fact that kids have been so happily influenced by my books, but I don’t want to drop talking about the topics of the other books; saucily—how to have sex while hiking. Cheekily—an amateur’s guide to being a cult leader. Thoughtfully, of course—to have or not to have…children?

So what do I do? Do I drop the topics kids are drawn to? Do I drop the topics my adult audience is piqued by? Or can I do them both, somehow?