Mom Friend: Author Kate Hoefler
Thoughts on tenderness in motherhood, creativity and life
If you’re a mom and/or love children’s books, Kate Hoefler likely needs no introduction. Her books include several I’ve mentioned here before, like Courage Hats, Rabbit and the Motorbike and Nothing in Common; her latest book, The Couch in the Yard, comes out this month.
Kate’s warmth and empathy comes through on every page of her books; her words have taught me as much about love and kindness as they have my kids. Being able to ask Kate about her work was a dream come true, and I’m so grateful to have had a chance to get to know her. Kate’s wisdom is such a gift—I hope you like this interview as much as I did. 💛
CM: Kate, thank you so much for taking the time to be a part of this newsletter, I’m so thrilled to have you! Let’s dive in…
Your books have this magical way of bridging the gap between child and adult—the emotions that unfurl throughout the story bring forth a resonance for both readers. Is that intentional in the way you build your storylines? Or does it come about organically as you write due to the inherent universality of human feeling, despite age?
KH: Some of it comes about inherently, I think. I’m always wanting to bring forth wonder and deeply honest feelings about life, and these emotions happen to be something that can resonate in both children and adults. But I also always think about the way that picture books are often shared—together—and usually between someone with very little life experience and someone with a lot of life experience. I want them both to have a vicarious, wondrous experience together, even if they engage with the story differently. I am a huge fan of Jim Henson, and oh(!) how I love how he did that. He did not condescend children (he gave them all of his wit) and he also didn’t condescend adults (in thinking they were “beyond” wonder and imagination and play). That approach and art fostered a beautiful “togetherness.” If any of my books can do even a small fraction of that, I’m happy.
CM: What’s your favorite way to court creativity—to call in the deep and meaningful ideas that are the foundations of your books?
KH: Definitely a combination of music, solitude, and having some “tree time.” Those things take me to the inner place where I need to be. I just feel my feelings and get completely relaxed. I call it “going quiet” with something (when I have an idea for a book). I need to feel like I’m alone with it. I usually tell no one what the book is even about until it’s complete. That’s how alone I stay with it. I also try to stay “alone” with it while writing in the sense that I stay in an inner place outside of the “noise” of the industry: outside of reviews and imagined reception, outside of the pressure to be trendy, outside of social media algorithms, outside of comparison. That is the death of creativity for me. I’ve really come to treasure that time with a story. It’s my own little world for awhile where it’s okay to be me.
CM: I heard you talk about the importance of noticing: intentionally taking note of the world around us in an effort to expand our empathy and engagement. Do you have any tips on how to begin that practice? And how can we cultivate this in our kids?
KH: I do want to start by saying that I constantly need reminders to do this myself. Some days it comes more naturally than others—like when you’re in a new place so you just take it all in (without needing to be deliberate about it). But let’s face it—we can’t travel or go to a new shop or place each day to feel engaged with our surroundings. We often go to the same places and our brains begin to think we “know” an area and don’t need to pay attention.
You really do have to tell yourself you’re going to do it. Today, for instance, I went to the dentist to get my teeth cleaned. I could have looked away from the illustration on the ceiling of a turtle saying “you’re turtle-ly awesome!” after reading it once, but I was reclined, and it was the main art I had to look at. I started noticing the font of the letters (how they matched the flowers beneath the turtle) and I also noted how the artist gave the turtle eyelashes. I liked that. I wondered who had made that art. There was also a window directly in front of me with a bird feeder outside. It was a happenin’ place! I started watching the birds (small sparrows and a cardinal) swoop in and negotiate their place. The hygienist saw me watching them and said, “they love that feeder because there are small bits of dried fruit in it—cut-up dates.” I could have left with only the thought “that’s done—teeth clean” but instead I left thinking about a turtle’s eyelashes (do they really have them?) and how some birds might have been watching ME while eating dried fruit. It made life richer.
I think you can do this as a game—with yourself and with your children. It can be as simple as “Today, I want you to notice two things about ____ and tell me about it.” It could be something with the weather, or people’s shoes, or what the birds are up to near a park (or wherever people will be). The joyous thing is that you can really pick anything. There’s a real richness to our world if we decide to simply pay attention to it.
A classic game of “I Spy” works well too!
CM: On an un-book-related note (or maybe it is related!): I think a lot about identity in motherhood—the reckoning of who we were before kids, who we are as mothers, and how those two converge, shift, and morph. Now that your kids are older and you have a wider view of motherhood, how do you feel your identity changed through that experience?
KH: Wow, what a great question.
Motherhood made me more tender. (And tenderness is a huge part of creativity for me). Motherhood actually kind of heightened my need to show up in life as honestly as I can. As loving as I can. As empathetic as I can. And that particular “showing up” is also what writing requires.
Motherhood has also helped me live more deliberately. Suddenly, I have profound audience members in my life. It’s crucial that I don’t hide my human experience from them. In terms of creating, my children have seen my writing get rejected, have seen me get awards, have seen me get nervous to talk in front of people, have seen me get the random mean comment online—the full spectrum—and then they get to see what happens next. They get to see me keep going. I think it’s good for children to know their parents have the same feelings they do. We all try our hand at something, we all have to figure out our value system, we all can’t control bigger systems in life and find ourselves negotiating that.
I guess overall, motherhood reminds me how I want to be alive and what I want to show my children about living—and by “show,” I don’t mean “teaching” a lesson. It’s more “this is what we share.” I have nothing to teach. It’s my first time living too. And I just want them to know they’re not alone. I want them to know there’s light. I suppose the same things I want for my children are what I want for my readers. Motherhood heightened that yearning I have for readers.
CM: During the pandemic, you wrote “secret author notes” in copies of your books and scattered them throughout the little libraries in your community—small, heartfelt reminders to keep going. If you could share one “secret author note” with the world today, what would it be?
KH: I loved doing that!
I have needed pick-me-ups lately myself. But I think I would just say this—because it’s something I’ve found true lately. It’s going to sound odd, and I don’t know how I would frame it in a note, so I’ll just put it here since it’s helped me keep going of late:
Recently, I started calling the parts of me that get anxious or sad ‘lil buddy.’ (I get anxious and sad a lot!). It sounds so simple and silly, but OH, I recommend it. I’ll get a sad, nervous, down feeling, and I just say it’s okay, lil’ buddy to myself.
I can’t explain it, but it almost immediately puts me back in a place of tenderness—both for myself and for others. We all have to be our own lil buddies sometimes, and then we begin to feel such tenderness for those sad and anxious parts.
Any note I could write—or book I could write—would really boil down to those four words we need to say to ourselves: It’s okay, lil buddy.
CM: Your new book, The Couch in the Yard, comes out this month—hailed as “a love letter to Appalachia, crackling with wonder and warmth.” I’m so excited to read it and share it with my kids. Can you tell me more about it? How did this idea make its way to you? What do you want readers to take away from the story?
KH: Yes! Yes! It will be released on March 25th with Holiday House/Neil Porter books!
The Couch in the Yard is a bedtime story about one family’s nightly ritual—involving a couch and an old car—of taking a drive (and maybe…maybe flying to the moon and back). Dena Seiferling has created such lush, dusky landscapes, skies, and shine in it. She’s such a conscientious artist.
The story came to me quite organically. As my children were growing up, we loved taking drives around our Ohio-Appalachian region. (I still love taking drives here!). While on those drives, my children invented a game they called “Peaceful World!” where they’d exclaim those words when they saw something beautiful. I so loved that. And I especially loved that they would still shout “Peaceful World!” when passing yards with cars and old bikes in them, and goats next to school buses—things that adults, in particular, called “junk” or “shameful.” My children taught me to see something else. Suddenly this story began emerging, with all of the things that we regularly saw (scrap heaps, etc) as things deserving of wonder (as deserving as other geographical places and details we typically see in children’s literature). It was so soothing to write, and its connection to my own children made the creation of this book deeply moving for me—and for them. My hope is that readers also note how wonder can be a part of anything.
CM: I have to ask you for a few book recs! What are three of your favorite children’s books? And what are three of your favorite grown-up books (fiction, nonfiction, poetry, etc!)?
KH: These are always changing depending on the day, time, and life moment, but in this moment, off the top of my head:
Children’s: 1) Tar Beach (Faith Ringgold) – always, actually – no matter the day, time, or life moment 2) The Way Home in the Night (Akiko Miyakoshi) 3) We Go To the Park (Sara Stridsberg, Beatrice Alemagna / translated from Swedish by B.J. Woodstein)
Adult: 1) Pema Chodron’s When Things Fall Apart 2) Robert Olmstead’s Stay Here With Me (I’ve been reading a ton of memoirs lately!) 3) Joy Sullivan’s Instructions for Traveling West
CM: Would you share a picture of your writing/creative space, highlighting a few of the things that are most useful and/or inspiring for doing your work?
KH: Just this summer, I blended families. (I’ve gone from two kids to four, and one dog to three!). My writing desk is in the living room, so I haven’t been writing there as much. Space is still being renegotiated, and I’ve been creating new small spaces where I can find alone time to write. Lately, this chair has been my sanctuary (perhaps because it’s in one of the only rooms I can have to myself!) along with a table I made with my dad – upcycled from an old soda crate. It’s a sweet corner that I’ve already done a lot of writing in! I’ve been reminded lately that creative space really is a space we create inside of ourselves. It’s portable. It can sit in new corners and chairs.
Thank you, Kate. Your writing will be treasured for centuries to come—this world is better with you in it. —CM
Be sure to preorder The Couch in the Yard, available March 25th (Bookshop.org, Books-a-Million, Barnes & Noble, Amazon, from your local bookseller or request it from your library!)—these sales are so important to a book’s success!! You can also follow Kate over on Instagram @katehoefler.
Thank you for reading—see you Sunday! ✨
Loved both the question and response on motherhood ♥️ I’m not a mother, but it made me think of how it rings true for my mom!