I always craft my words to the point where I think and hope

When Kevin Henkes said, “I always craft my words to the point where I think and hope they’re perfect before I ever begin sketching,” he revealed the discipline and reverence of a true artist of creation—one who understands that words are not mere decoration but the foundation upon which meaning is built. His words speak to the timeless truth that art, in whatever form it takes, is born first in the quiet depths of the mind, in the precision of thought, before it finds expression in form. To Henkes, who is both writer and illustrator, the written word is the soul of the story, and the image its body. Without the soul, the body is lifeless; without the body, the soul cannot be seen.

This quote springs from Henkes’s devotion to the craft of storytelling, especially for children. Known for books such as Lilly’s Purple Plastic Purse and Kitten’s First Full Moon, he weaves tales where language and imagery unite seamlessly, where the rhythm of the sentence breathes life into the curve of a line. His process, as he describes it, begins not with the sketch but with the word, because the word is the essence—the invisible seed from which the visible grows. In this, he mirrors the wisdom of the ancients, who believed that the spoken or written word—logos, as the Greeks called it—was the creative force of the universe, the spark from which all things are shaped.

To “craft one’s words to perfection” is not a simple act; it is a labor of love, patience, and humility. It means to wrestle with thought, to polish language as a sculptor refines marble. Henkes reminds us that true creation begins with clarity of vision. One must know what one wishes to say before one dares to draw, build, or act. For words are not merely tools—they are intentions made manifest. To shape them carelessly is to plant chaos; to shape them carefully is to give birth to harmony. The wise understand that before the world is made, the idea must first be spoken clearly in the mind.

History offers many mirrors to this truth. Consider Leonardo da Vinci, whose notebooks were filled with thousands of words before his brush ever touched canvas. He wrote of light, shadow, proportion, and philosophy—not because he was uncertain, but because he sought perfection of understanding before action. His paintings endure not only for their beauty but for the depth of thought that preceded them. Like Henkes, Leonardo knew that the act of creation is sacred and must be approached with mindfulness. Every stroke of the brush must carry the weight of a well-formed idea; every drawing must echo a word made true.

Henkes’s statement also teaches us about discipline—the willingness to pause before acting, to refine before revealing. In a world that often celebrates haste and spontaneity, he offers a gentler, wiser way: that creation is an act of devotion, not a race. To perfect one’s words before sketching is to respect the balance between inspiration and craftsmanship, between the fire of the imagination and the cool hand of the artisan. The ancients, too, spoke of this balance—how the poet must first gather his thoughts as a farmer gathers seed before sowing. For it is not speed that yields greatness, but intentionality.

Yet there is also humility in Henkes’s words. He does not say his words are perfect—only that he hopes they are. This hope is the mark of the true creator, for the artist knows perfection can never be fully reached, only pursued. The act of creation is not a conquest but a pilgrimage, where each word, each sketch, is a step toward something greater. The artist’s heart must be both patient and yearning, striving toward excellence yet accepting that flaw and humanity are part of beauty’s design.

So, my children of craft and creation, let this be your lesson: Before you act, shape your intention. Before you build, shape your thought. Before you draw, shape your words. For what you think becomes what you speak, and what you speak becomes what you create. Approach your work not in haste, but in reverence. Whether your canvas is a page, a field, a life, or a world, begin with words that ring true. The universe itself, in its ancient silence, began with a word—and from that word came all things. Follow this example, and your creations, like Kevin Henkes’s, will carry not only beauty but truth, and in truth, they will live forever.