The Creation of Cowboy Up, Peanut

I live on a farm just outside the limits of a small town. In other words: no neighbors, little noise, and even less traffic—until hunting season rolls around, and then it’s like an interstate out here!

Living this far out comes with many perks: wide-open skies, quiet evenings on the porch listening to the birds settle in, and long walks with the dogs down dusty country roads. But one thing I’ve missed is being part of a creative community.

Now, don’t get me wrong—there are plenty of resourceful and creative people out here. You have to be, living this far from the store! 

A single visit to the county fair is all it takes to see the skills being kept alive: quilting, knitting, sewing, gardening—you name it. These folks know how to do things, and do them well. They amaze me! But I hadn’t found a group of people who wanted to talk about the craft of writing.

For a long time, I accepted that. It was fine. I found online communities of children’s book writers from around the world, many of whom I now call friends. But there’s nothing quite like that in-person connection.

So imagine my surprise when, just a short fifteen-minute drive into town, I found it—in a local artist named Don Nutt.

If I were to describe Don, I’d call him a gentle soul with a strong internal compass. He’s got a quiet nature, but catch him on the right topic and he comes alive with stories and insight. He’s kind, but also clear about what he will and won’t spend his time on. 

I think that comes from going all in on his dream decades ago—opening a tiny studio in an even tinier town, and somehow carving out a niche that brought him success. People come from all over to buy a Don Nutt original—and one look at his work will tell you why.

He’s got a bit of an old cowboy feel to him, and his art studio reflects that. While he mostly paints western landscapes, he’s also created some moody pieces and limited-edition woodcut prints he's tucked into corners and drawers—works that, in my humble opinion, are on a whole other level.

That’s why I knew he’d be the perfect person to illustrate Cowboy Up, Peanut.

Although I'd been writing for years, this was my first children’s picture book. It came to me after watching our own cattle horse struggle with his fear of cows. I wrote it never knowing if it would be published—but knowing if it was, Don was the only illustrator I wanted.

Now, Don will tell you that while he's technically illustrated children's books before—decades ago—it wasn't something he planned to revisit. Ever the optimist, I handed him the story anyway. I mean—it had horses in it! How could he say no?

I’d considered trying the traditional publishing route. But sometime in my late 40s, with two-thirds of the kids out of the nest, and an uptick in both free time and anxiety (thank you perimenopause), I decided to start my own independent publishing company, Gallop Books, with an “if not now, when?” kind of spirit.

So off I went to cajole (persuade, wheedle, coax… oh, who am I kidding—talk Don into) illustrating Peanut’s story.

Even though I had zero experience creating a children’s book—and even less of a budget to do it—Don (did I mention he’s kind?) still said yes. Maybe Peanut’s story tugged at him the same way it tugged at me. Or maybe it was the idea of one day reading a children’s book he illustrated to his grandkids. (I certainly pitched that angle more than once.)

Whatever the reason, he agreed. And that’s how the next two years of shop talk began.

I’d pop into Cariboo Trail Studio and, no matter what Don was working on, he’d always pause to chat about Peanut. As the months went by, those check-ins turned into longer talks about the creative process—and sometimes even longer ones about parenting, grandkids, and the ever-evolving adventure of raising the next generation. (Thank you, Don, for the great advice.)

Some of my favorite visits were when Don spoke about the highs and lows of painting. I was surprised how similar it was to writing—how it starts out fun (who doesn’t love a new idea?), then inevitably hits a messy middle, and requires pure “butt in chair” persistence to see it through. Don often had two or three paintings in various stages scattered around the studio—much like the stack of half-finished stories I always seem to have going. Of course, he had the better excuse: “The paint’s gotta dry!”

Don was often busy with commissioned paintings—projects that paid the bills—so I probably checked in on Peanut more than was polite. But my favorite visits were when he’d link together folding tables and lay out the entire book. We’d spend hours reviewing dialogue, debating page turns, and asking: Does this page move the story? Is the emotion coming through? Should this line go here?

It wasn’t easy. Peanut’s anxieties were on the page, but much of the story happened in his head. His rider was present but secondary. We wrestled with big questions—what does anxiety look like? How should it feel on the page? How do we keep the pace fast enough to match Peanut’s whirlwind thoughts, while still landing the humor and heart?

It took time.

But I loved every single second of it.

Those long discussions about craft, about Peanut, about art and storytelling—those will go down as some of the most fun I’ve ever had creating a book with someone. Thank you, Don, for being part of my creative community and for making the ride so memorable. I can’t wait to see Cowboy Up, Peanut out in the world (Coming 2026).

Ready to illustrate Book 2 yet? 😉