In my writing place: creating fine literature for the young is not all child's play.

When I was a child, I had no thought of becoming a writer. I loved to read, but didn't like to write. I think now, though, that I was, perhaps, a writer-in-training. I was drawn by the sounds and textures and meanings of words, and I was a people-watcher. I learned early that no two people are exactly alike. There is always this interesting mixture of traits. Watching people taught me about the complexity of human beings and has made creating characters a fascinating pursuit.

I began writing for fun when I was in my early twenties. Unexpectedly, I found it deeply satisfying and decided to become a writer. In the beginning, I believed that writing was dependent on talent alone, and so I gave myself a test to see whether I had talent. Three strikes--three rejections--and I would be out. I very quickly acquired my three rejections and was convinced I could never be a writer.

A few years later, I read somewhere that writing was not just a talent, but also a craft. And so, along with continuing to read fiction and other books for pleasure, I studied book after book on the craft of writing.

I learned much that has carried me through the years, not the least of which is that rejections are a normal part of the process, not to be feared; and thank goodness for that information because I have certainly garnered my share.

Studying also gave me the confidence to judge my own work and to understand that, beyond the basic craft, the judgment of a manuscript is based on personal taste. (That's why critics, experts in the field, can have opposing opinions.)

The Place Inside Myself

Sometimes a person tells me they would hate to be a writer, and I understand what they mean. They mean they would be bored stiff, sitting in one spot, hour after hour, changing words around. Because they are who they are, and I am who I am, they would hate doing the very thing I love to do.

When I write, I sit in a quiet place, partly planning, partly daydreaming. But there is an additional place, a place inside my head, that I have to get to, and no one can accompany me. Whenever someone wants to help with the planning, with ideas or characters, I have a panic attack. Then I force myself to relax, and explain that the words won't come unless I'm alone.

In my writing place, I "see" people. I watch them go about their lives, and I try to capture them on paper. I see their facial expressions, their gestures and the ways they walk. I hear their voices; I know their surroundings. I know what they feel and think and want. I know their past and present. I don't yet know their future, but it will unfold before my eyes.

Simultaneously, on a conscious level, whether the words come like magic, or I have to struggle for them, I think about the craft. Am I developing the plot according to the rules or in defiance of them? Will readers get to know these characters? Is this poem poetic? Am I using language that is lyrical or harsh or matter-of-fact--there are so many choices--as the work demands? I am hard to please, and I write many drafts.

A Sense of Purpose

I keep in mind my mission to contribute to the building of a large body of African American literature for children. It's important to me that I avoid stereotyping and show African Americans in a variety of lifestyles. In Grandpa's Face (Philomel, 1988), Grandpa is an actor; in Me & Neesie (Amistad/HarperCollins, 2004), Janell has an imaginary friend; in How They Got Over: African Americans and the Call of the Sea (Amistad/HarperCollins, 2002), short biographies show how significant the sea has been in African American life.

The Friendly Four (Amistad/HarperCollins, June 2006) is a collection of multivoiced poems about friendship; and When the Horses Ride By: Children in the Times of War (Lee & Low Books, June 2006), my most recent book, is composed of poems about children around the world, throughout history.

I am inspired by many things. Music is one of them. When I listen to music, I feel myself inhaling its strength: Thad Jones's "A Child Is Born," Joe Williams singing "Here's to Life," Max Roach and Clifford Brown, Leontyne Price, Sarah Vaughan, Dianne Reeves, Cyrus Chestnut ... I could go on and on.

I am inspired by the courage of human beings who struggle for better lives. As an African American, I am especially inspired by survivors of the Middle Passage and their descendants.

I am inspired by the love that people have for one another; by people who devote much of their lives to humane causes; and by parents, teachers, librarians and others who are working in various ways to benefit children.

I am inspired by the work of other writers and artists, especially the art of Jan Spivey Gilchrist, who has sensitively and powerfully brought my characters to life for almost two decades.

Children: Handle With Care

I am encouraged by knowing that my efforts have been beneficial to some people. Every writer has received letters of gratitude and met people who tell them, sometimes with tears in their eyes, how their books have helped them, or someone they care about, learn to read, accept the death of a loved one or find hope at a critical time.

During my visits to schools and libraries, I experience one of my greatest inspirations--the children. Sometimes, I tour (the "Three Legends, Three Friends Tour") with Jan Spivey Gilchrist and author/illustrator Ashley Bryan, who is the United States' 2006 nominee for the international Hans Christian Andersen Award. In our programs, we read from our work, show art and talk about some of the challenges we have faced. We let the children know they are wonderful and must keep persevering in spite of the individuals they'll meet who won't want them to succeed.

We don't know the children's fives--we are with them for such a short time--but we do know that we have to handle them with care. Some of them are already facing difficult problems: a parent in the hospital, ridicule, bullying, loneliness.

Later, we hear that the children have been inspired by us. But they also inspire us. When I leave them, I carry home with me their beautiful faces, their laughter, their intelligence and their strength. I have seen their love for literature, and I am inspired to continue my work.

My joke is that I am in "showbiz." I have to laugh because I remember well the little girl who was too shy to raise her hand in class and the young writer who dreaded public appearances.

Looking back over those and other periods of my fife, I know that, along with being a mother and grandmother, I was meant to write. No one gets through fife without pain and disappointment, and I've had my share; but now, at the age of 77, after more than 40 years as a writer, I can truly say that I have been happy, and I am grateful that I was able to find the path that was right for me.

Eloise Greenfield has won numerous awards for her work and lives in Washington, D.C.