If you’ve been following along on my journey to writing a children’s book, you know it all started with a whisper—a quiet nudge I couldn’t ignore. What began as a creative flicker turned into something much bigger: a deeply personal story with a little character named Clarence at its center.

But once the story took shape, another part of the process started calling: bringing that world to life through illustration. And whew… that part was its own adventure.

So if you’re wondering how to illustrate a children’s book, whether for your own story or someone else’s, I want to share what it’s really been like—from the joyful surprises to the creative blocks, and everything in between.

Illustrating a Book That Matters

The heart of this book started in a sketchbook (and honestly, in my son’s imagination). When you’re figuring out how to illustrate a children’s book, characters often come from the most unexpected places. Clarence came from a quick rectangle-with-eyeballs doodle that he drew one day. But somehow, even in that silly, simple shape, something clicked. I could feel a story beginning.

From the very start, I knew watercolor would be the medium to carry that emotion. (Honestly, could it be anything else?) There’s a softness to it—a humanity—that felt like the perfect match for this story about emotional expression and finding your voice.

But illustrating a children’s book was unlike anything I’d done before. It wasn’t just about making beautiful art. It was about serving the story. And that shifted everything for me.

The Wins That Kept Me Going

Finding a Style That Felt Like “Us”

When I started sketching Clarence, I tried everything. He was a rectangle, a gumdrop, a blob with legs. I sketched him with big eyes, no eyes, arms, no arms. I probably drew a hundred versions before one finally made me say—yes. That’s him.

The breakthrough wasn’t just about what he looked like. It was about how he felt. I needed him to show joy, worry, pride, fear—all with just a few lines and brushstrokes. That process helped me refine a style that felt both playful and emotionally honest.

Building a World from Scratch

One of the most important parts of how to illustrate a children’s book is creating a world that reflects the emotional tone of the story. Once Clarence had a shape, I started building his world. Trees, houses, skies, textures—each piece needed to reflect his emotional journey, not just fill a background. (This was so different from painting a floral bouquet or a landscape where beauty is the focus. Here, feeling was everything.)

And little by little, it all came together. Those watercolor textures and gentle palettes started to shape the mood of each page.

That First “Yes” Moment

There’s a moment every illustrator chases—the one where things finally start to click. It might not come with fanfare, but something shifts. A character expression lands just right. A color palette feels aligned. A spread quietly says what you've been trying to say for weeks.

It’s a subtle kind of win, but a powerful one. And honestly, those are the moments that keep you going through the rough drafts, the revisions, and the creative hiccups along the way.

Curious how writing a children’s book has helped me grow as an artist? I’m sharing the unexpected ways storytelling is shaping my art and creative process. It’s honest, personal, and full of insight—read it here!

The Struggles That Surprised Me

Creative Block (Hello, Old Friend)

Even when you know the story inside and out, learning how to illustrate a children’s book brings its own set of creative hurdles. Even when the story was crystal clear in my head, the illustrations didn’t always flow. Some days I’d paint for hours and toss every page. I second-guessed colors. I redrew poses. I overthought everything. (Watercolor isn’t the most forgiving medium, after all.)

What helped the most? Letting go. Switching mediums. Taking a walk. Letting myself sketch with pencils in a messy journal without the pressure to “get it right.” That freedom brought the fun back.

Balancing Art and Emotion

There’s a sweet spot between art that’s beautiful and art that moves the story forward. Finding that took work. I had to resist the urge to over-design. Every brushstroke had to support the emotional tone of the page—not distract from it.

That’s where my experience as a storyteller and educator really helped. I leaned into everything I teach about restraint, intentionality, and letting the paint do what it does best—flow, surprise, and speak.

The Self-Doubt Spiral

Let’s just say: yes, it came up. Often. I’d catch myself comparing my work to others’, wondering if my illustrations were strong enough, or if I was even qualified to take on a full book project like this.

But then something would ground me—a small reminder of why I started. A moment of connection to the story. A burst of joy in the process. And I’d remember—this isn’t about perfection. It’s about connection. And I already had that.

What I’ve Learned Along the Way

If you’ve ever wondered how to illustrate a children’s book, know this: the process is just as much about personal growth as it is about putting paint on paper. You learn things you didn’t expect—about creativity, about patience, and about trusting your instincts when everything feels unclear.

Here are a few lessons that stuck with me:

• The Process Teaches You: Even the “bad” paintings, the discarded sketches, the pages that didn’t make the cut—they all taught me something. I learned to observe more carefully, to revise with love, and to trust that the right solution would come (usually when I stopped forcing it).
• Inspiration Doesn’t Always Look How You Expect: Some of my favorite spreads came in quick, unexpected bursts. Thirty minutes of painting after a day of nothing. One sketch in a coffee shop that opened the floodgates. (Creativity is weird like that. But wonderful, too.)
• It’s Okay to Take Your Time: This is something I remind my students and myself: you don’t need to rush your art. Even when deadlines whisper, even when the pressure creeps in. Passion projects—like this one—deserve space. They grow best when we let them unfold.

If you're on your own journey—whether you're just dreaming or deep in the work—know that these lessons aren't one-time things. They circle back. They show up again and again as gentle reminders that illustrating a children’s book is about more than just the final product. It’s about the artist you’re becoming along the way.

So, Want to Illustrate a Children’s Book?

If you're feeling that tug—maybe you’ve written a story of your own, or you’re dreaming of illustrating one—here’s what I’ll say: start sketching. You don’t need the whole plan. You don’t need a publisher or even a full manuscript. You just need one character. One scene. One idea that sparks something in you.

Let it be messy. Let it be weird. And above all, let it be yours.

It’s easy to overthink how to illustrate a children’s book, but truthfully? It starts with play. Sketch in journals. Use crayons if you have to. Carry a pencil case in your bag. (That’s how so many Clarence ideas came to me—sitting on the floor with my son, just drawing for fun.)

And if you’re looking for structure or support along the way, The Art Within (my course) is where I teach the exact process I’ve followed here. From building confidence in your voice, to developing a visual language that feels like you, it’s the path I’ve walked—and one I’d love to walk with you.

Learn more about The Art Within here!

One Brushstroke at a Time

Illustrating a children’s book has stretched me more than I expected—in the best way. It’s pulled from all corners of my creativity: my storytelling heart, my emotional depth, my love of texture and color.

If you’ve been following along on my journey to writing a children’s book (you can watch updates here), you know this wasn’t something I set out to do. But it’s become one of the most meaningful projects of my life. And now, seeing Clarence’s world come to life through both words and watercolor? It’s magic.

So if you’re standing at the edge of your own idea—wondering how to illustrate a children’s book, or whether you even can—I hope this reminds you that you absolutely can.

One sketch. One idea. One brushstroke at a time.