Yiting Lee is the author and illustrator of the new children's picture book The Quiet One. Her other books include Le Jardin de Jean. She is based in England.
Q: What inspired you to create The Quiet One, and how did you create your character Milly?
A: You won’t believe how the story took on a life of its own!
It all started with a completely different character—a young adult named Faye who lived in a warehouse where she could fix anything. The story revolved around the themes of reuse, repair, and recreation. However, something felt missing. The story just wasn’t quite sparking the way I had hoped.
That’s when I took a step back and decided to shift the perspective. I lowered the protagonist’s age from a young adult to a child and asked myself: Why would she be drawn to STEAM in the first place? Maybe she was a shy girl who found comfort in making things, turning her secret space into a world of her own. From there, the story naturally evolved, and so did the character.
Eventually, I gave her a new name—Milly—even though, in a way, she and Faye might still be the same girl at heart.
As Milly’s character took shape, I began to think more deeply about her challenges. What obstacles would she face, and as an author, how could I help her overcome them? While I wasn’t particularly shy as a child, I still struggle with speaking in front of crowds as an adult. And I know that many quiet kids can relate to that feeling. Being quiet doesn’t mean having nothing to say—it’s the fear that stops you from speaking.
So, I imagined myself as the adult comforting my younger self: People might actually be interested in what you have to say—give them a chance to listen. That’s when I created Arnold, the robot, to play that role in Milly’s journey. Arnold is the friend who reassures her, nudges her forward, and helps her find her voice in her own way.
Through Milly’s story, I hope quiet kids see that their thoughts, ideas, and creativity matter—even if they don’t always say them out loud. And maybe, just maybe, they’ll discover their own way of expressing themselves, just like Milly did.
Q: Did you work on the text first or the illustrations first--or both simultaneously?
A: Normally, when I have an idea for a book, I like to start by doodling what the character might look like. Gradually, I build out the background, setting, environments, plot, and other elements on paper, and then I try to put everything into words. This is the very beginning stage of the story.
From there, I go back and forth between the text and illustrations, making sure both are working together harmoniously. In some cases, I write the text first—usually when a lyrical passage pops into my head. I’m drawn to its rhythm and the way it’s depicted, so I’ll focus on the text, fine-tuning it to capture the precise feeling I want. My book Le Jardin de Jean (John’s Garden) is an example of this approach.
For The Quiet One, the character came to me first. I couldn’t help but draw her again and again—a girl passionate about making and fixing things. As I doodled, her personality began to evolve, and the world she created expanded on my paper. When she was Faye, the adult version, she lived isolated from the hustle and bustle of the city, content in her solitude and creativity.
But when I decided to change her age and make her a child, I wondered: What kind of personality and struggles would this girl face in childhood? She might have trouble expressing herself, and I wanted to help her learn to trust in herself. Gradually, the story came together. I kept her love for making inventions but shifted the focus to her inner growth. The result turned out just the way I wanted it to be—fun, relatable, and meaningful.
Being able to tell a story through both words and pictures is such a beautiful gift, and I’m incredibly grateful for it. The challenge of using these two tools to create a balanced harmony is something I find exciting with every new project. For me, words help construct the story, while illustrations open the world and create emotional connections with the characters and plot. Together, they bring the story to life.
Q: Did you know how the story would end before you started writing it, or did you make many changes along the way?
A: I had absolutely no idea how the story would end when I first started! In the beginning, I enjoyed playing with the idea of Faye (the adult version of Milly) creating all sorts of quirky inventions—a breakfast machine, a wake-up bed, a mouse-powered music box, and more. She also had a friendship with a robot named Arnold. But for a long time, I struggled to find the right direction for the story. I wasn’t sure why Faye didn’t have human friends, and the conflicts in the plot weren’t strong enough.
At first, I focused on how Arnold helped Faye with her inventions. But then I realized—Faye was already capable of making things on her own. She had an entire warehouse filled with her creations and had been living this way from the start of the story. That meant Arnold’s presence wasn’t essential, and the story lacked a real transformation or resolution.
Then, I had an idea: what if Arnold wasn’t just helping Faye build inventions, but was actually offering her something she had never made before—a friendship? I tried an ending where Faye, who had been alone, finally built a meaningful connection with Arnold. It was a sweet concept, but it still didn’t feel quite right—after all, Faye wasn’t truly lonely to begin with, so the ending didn’t feel like a real breakthrough.
Everything changed when I transformed Faye into Milly, the child version of the character. Suddenly, I discovered her struggle: she wasn’t just someone who liked making things—she was a quiet child who found it hard to express herself. That’s when I knew where the story was meant to go. I sent Arnold into her world not just as a helper, but as a companion who would guide her toward opening up. The story finally made sense and felt complete.
The final ending worked because it reflected Milly’s inner journey—her fear of speaking no longer prevented her from making friends, and her voice could finally be heard. It’s a reassurance to all the quiet ones out there that they don’t have to rush; they can take their time to speak and express themselves, and there will always be someone who listens and wants to be their friend.
Q: The Kirkus review of the book called it a "reminder that there’s a spark inside every one of us." What do you think of that description?
A: I love it! The Kirkus review perfectly captures the heart of the story. My intention was simple—to reassure every quiet child that their voice will be heard by the right person, as long as they find the courage to speak up. We can’t control how others will respond, but we can take the first step in expressing ourselves.
The idea of a “spark inside every one of us” resonates deeply with me. In Milly’s case, her spark is her creativity, curiosity, and the way she sees the world through making and fixing things. But more importantly, it’s also her quiet strength—the part of her that wants to connect with others, even if she doesn’t always know how. This story is a reminder that every child, no matter how shy or reserved, carries something special inside them.
Children often take the reactions of adults as a reflection of their own value in the world. If they are repeatedly told they are “too quiet” in a way that makes it seem like a flaw, they may start to believe it is something wrong with them. But if we reframe it—acknowledge their quietness while also showing them how it can be a strength, and provide support when they need it—they won’t internalize it as a limitation. Instead, they will learn to embrace their own spark.
What I love most about this description is that it encourages us to cherish the spark within ourselves. We all have something unique and valuable inside us, and we should be the keepers of our own light. If this book can remind readers—especially the quiet ones—that their spark is worth protecting and nurturing, then I feel I’ve achieved what I set out to do.
Q: What are you working on now?
A: I’m currently working on a story about a spider with endless energy. To be honest, I’ve reached that familiar stage where I feel a little lost in the direction of the story! But over time, I’ve learned to trust both myself and the creative process. So for now, I’m stepping back from it, letting the ideas settle, and hoping that when I return to it, I’ll find the breakthrough I need.
I really love this spider character—I feel there’s something special about it, but I’m still searching for the right story to tell. What does this spider want? What challenges does it face? How can its energy be something children relate to? These are the questions I’m exploring, and I know the answers will come with time.
In the meantime, I’m also juggling other projects, whether it’s sketching, brainstorming new ideas, or simply observing the little moments in life that might inspire the next story. Writing and illustrating are never straightforward processes, but that’s part of what makes them so exciting. Fingers crossed—I’m looking forward to seeing where this story goes!
Q: Anything else we should know?
A: I just realized why I resonate with Milly so much! I wasn’t exactly a quiet child growing up, but when I first moved to England, my experience changed. Speaking in English, which wasn’t my first language, made me feel hesitant to speak and self-conscious.
Whenever I had to share my thoughts in class, I often felt so much pressure—not because I had nothing to say, but because putting my thoughts into English, with the right tone, the right phrasing, plus trying not to feel nervous and remembering to breathe. Because of that, I naturally became the “quiet one.”
In a way, I probably still am. If this interview were spoken instead of written, I wouldn’t be able to give such a well-organized response on the spot! I think many non-native speakers can relate to this feeling—the frustration of having so much to say but not always being able to express it smoothly. That’s exactly how Milly feels in the story. And if anyone has ever felt the same, I hope they find comfort in knowing they’re not alone.
--Interview with Deborah Kalb
No comments:
Post a Comment