Author/illustrator Moira Munro gives an insight into how she has worked with In The Picture and why she is so motivated...

Once upon a time I met with a group of youngsters who stayed apart from everybody else. They sat in their wheelchairs and expected me to play cards with them. None of them had any intention of ever getting a job. They hated me asking why not. I was sorely tempted to blame them: they were lazy adolescents and they used their disabilities as an excuse to avoid learning algebra.

Of course they were part of a generation that wasn’t included in anything. Certainly not in story books. The vision they’d grown up with was skewed, and so was everyone else’s. Books reflected and perpetuated divisions.

For an illustrator or writer, disability can be a minefield. Even with the best of intentions, there are surely 101 ways to offend, as I probably have right here. So I was delighted to discover “In the Picture”: its website full of resources, and its team of helpful people to talk to.

I included a teddy in a wheelchair in the first two books I wrote and illustrated. It seemed natural: I needed a great number of characterful teddy friends for my main bear, Hamish. I’ve been told of kids with disabilities who love my wheelchair teddy. On the other hand, I’ve met thousands of school children on author visits, and none of them comment on him – he’s just one of the bears. They’re more likely to notice his pal in the cool red sports car. Come to think of it, why do we never see his legs?

Now that “In the Picture” has come on the scene, I’ve learned that wheelchairs aren’t the whole picture. I even get the impression they might be a bit of cliché. So, what else can we include, and how do we draw it or write about it? At what age do kids use particular equipment? The “In the Picture” website answers these questions. And when I still don’t feel sure of myself I ask the kind people on the end of the phone to help me.

For instance, I asked the team to check a story draft in which the main character wears an eye patch. I didn’t want this to dominate the story or the illustrations, just to be there. I pushed aside the worry that when it came to the illustrations, my eye-patching girl might have ‘PIRATE’ written all over her. Because illustration is so much about symbols. The brainy kid wears glasses; the bully is fat and has greasy hair – and it’s bad luck for all the lovely people out there who happen to fit that description. The “In the Picture” team pointed out that my heroine was past the typical patching age, and suggested a strawberry mark instead. Great! They also kindly checked the dialogue in which I make another child comment on the mark. Because kids will comment, won’t they?

Later, I asked the team about a piece in which an evil publicist comes across a kid with a leg-splint. She cynically exploits what she sees as a PR opportunity. The kid will help her look right-on and caring. It only took a paragraph, but I worried it could be misinterpreted. Answer: yes, it jolly well could. I cut it out.

Those youngsters I met all those years ago still haunt me. Perhaps they were just typical adolescents and they’ve grown out of their apathy. I hope they’re living life to the full now. If they’re reading books to their children right now, I’d like to think they don’t feel left out all over again.

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