Be Yourself

And Other Misleading Lessons

I always hated the preschool TV lesson of “be yourself.”

Like… what? What I actually hear is, “Hey kid, I know you’re a brand-new human overflowing with possibility, but you better stay in your lane. Cool?”

Ew! No! Real people don’t fit into neat trope boxes. I cannot be summed up with three quirky adjectives and a catchphrase.

Shouldn’t we be telling kids that figuring out who you are is a lifelong adventure? I don’t know about you, but I keep becoming someone new. Who I thought I was five years ago — or even last month — is not who I am now. This shizz is evolving, y’all.

But then, through this whole Poodle Lagoon journey… I kind of get it.
Darn it.

A big part of the mountain I had to climb to make this show was becoming a producer. I had decided, I can do this! I MUST do this.

The only problem? I’m not organized. I’m not great with numbers or money. I’m terrible at thinking ahead or anticipating problems.

And… ahem… that’s what a producer is.

I wanted to believe that my passion for this project could magically transform me into the flawless version of me I’ve always fantasized about — the version without the flaws I’m so deeply ashamed of.

But my drive to become a “producer-type” wasn’t coming from a plucky confidence that I can be anything I put my mind to. It was coming from doubt in the gifts I already have.

It came from thinking I wasn’t enough. That something in me needed to be fixed.

But what saved me from that was writing these Poodle Lagoon manuscripts.

As I dig into these stories, these characters, this world, I feel deeply proud.

For the first time, I see the compassionate, wildly creative storyteller I am. I believe in the things I want to say — and I have the ability to say them.

For the first time in my life, I see that that is enough.

And the truth is, the only way to make Poodle Lagoon as good as it can be is to lean into my strengths and then gather the team of brilliant humans who have the skills I don’t.

So in short… be myself. Ugh. Annoying.

I probably should have realized sooner, because I basically went through this whole thing already with Jen (the artist behind Poodle Lagoon and the illustrator of the book).

When we were planning the series, we decided to make the characters as felt puppets. That’s what people usually do. We’d seen it work. Plus Jen was excited to expand her puppet-making skills.

Here is the first version.

The puppet was gorgeous, but something wasn’t landing.

We both felt it, but neither of us knew how to say it.

Then one day I was perusing her incredible papercraft — the style that made me fall in love with her work in the first place — and I knew immediately: this is what Poodle Lagoon is meant to be.

Jen’s incredible papercraft.

So I pushed past my people-pleasing tendencies and emailed her: I think the characters should be paper, not felt.

Thank all the goodnesses, she not only agreed, she was relieved. I mean, when she first designed the poodles, she instinctively made a paper version. Here it is.

This is the look, this is the series. It’s so right it hurts.

Because THIS is the art Jen’s compelled to create, it’s where her creativity shines.

Why not just let her be herself?

So now that we have this current version of ourselves all snug and nicely realized, let’s tell some stories.

Next week, I really will talk about what I’ve learned about picture book writing, I promise!