Randy Ribay and Zeke Peña: An Author's Creative Exchange

The Authentic Pull: How New Fatherhood Shaped a Powerhouse Picture Book Collaboration

When two highly decorated names in children’s literature, Randy Ribay and Zeke Peña, converge on a project, the industry takes notice. But their new picture book, *Hold*, isn’t just another high-profile collaboration. It’s a strikingly personal statement, born directly from the fresh, often chaotic, experience of new fatherhood. This isn't merely a tale for kids; it’s a reflection on the universal parental tightrope walk: the relentless pressure of a schedule versus the profound, unscripted joy of a child’s present moment. Ribay, a two-time National Book Award nominee and Michael L. Printz Medal co-winner, has carved out a niche with impactful YA novels like *Patron Saints of Nothing*. Peña, a Caldecott Honor-winning author-illustrator, is celebrated for works like *Sundust* and his illustrations for *My Papi Has a Motorcycle*, earning him Ezra Jack Keats and Pura Belpré Honors. Their individual pedigrees alone would make any joint venture significant, but the real story here is the deeply authentic, almost fated, alignment of their creative and personal lives.

A Meeting of Minds and Experiences

The groundwork for their partnership was laid long before *Hold* was conceived. Ribay’s son, as it happens, was a fervent fan of Peña's illustrations in *My Papi Has a Motorcycle*, a book they read on repeat. And Peña, in turn, found himself deeply moved by Ribay’s *Patron Saints of Nothing*, a work that, as he puts it, "made me cry." This mutual admiration, steeped in personal connection to each other's work, set a powerful stage. Peña has a straightforward, almost intuitive, method for choosing projects: a "vibe test." If a manuscript conjures immediate mental images, it resonates, and he knows he has something genuine to offer. *Hold* wasn’t just a pass; it gave him "all the mental images" and, crucially, made him laugh. As a new father himself, the story offered him a canvas to explore his own "joy and worry." It's a sentiment many creators in this space can appreciate: the best work often emerges from a place of deep, personal resonance. Ribay's inspiration for *Hold* was similarly rooted in an everyday, yet profound, parental observation. One day, his son grasped the meaning of "hold" and began asking to hold everything he loved, including abstract concepts. This idea, Ribay notes, stuck. Most fleeting thoughts fade, but the ones that his subconscious keeps pulling him back to are the ones he trusts are worth developing. After that initial spark, he spent months meticulously considering how it might unfold as a picture book.

Crafting a Shared Vision: Words, Images, and Pacing

The picture book form demands a unique collaboration, and their process illuminates how two distinct artistic voices can merge. While *Hold* features sparse text, Ribay’s manuscript included "excellent art direction and scene descriptions." He essentially provided a strong visual foundation, a framework for Peña to build upon. Peña, for his part, saw his role as deciding "where the camera was," blending Ribay's vision with his own "experience as a dad." This iterative back-and-forth, where an author provides visual cues and an illustrator brings their lived perspective, is foundational to truly great picture book making. What makes *Hold* particularly resonant, though, is its central emotional arc. Ribay found the child’s story flowed easily, but the dad’s perspective required more reflection. He eventually realized the narrative needed to depict a father’s journey: setting aside the incessant pressure to "get out the door on time" in favor of leaning into the fleeting joy of the present moment. It’s a hard-won lesson, one that Ribay admits parenting continues to teach him daily. Those moments when you feel an absolute obligation to "do the thing" are often the very times a child’s boundless curiosity pulls you to "stop and smell the flowers or chase the butterfly."

The Unwilling Path to Patience

Peña echoed this sentiment powerfully. He candidly admitted to struggling with the "stress of doing the thing" during his first year of fatherhood, placing immense pressure on himself for everything to go perfectly. Children, however, operate without that "sense of obligation." Parenting, for Peña, became an unwilling, yet essential, lesson in patience. The book’s opening scene perfectly captures this dynamic: the frantic scramble to pack, the inability to find anything, followed by an entirely unexpected, child-led distraction. It's a visceral, relatable snapshot of modern parenthood. We, as adults, often lose touch with the simple delight of throwing rocks in a creek or chasing a butterfly. *Hold*, then, isn’t just a story; it’s a gentle reminder. It suggests that there’s always another choice in those special moments, a chance to pause and embrace a connection that might otherwise be missed amidst the rush. Ultimately, *Hold* feels less like a manufactured story and more like a distillation of genuine parental experience. From Ribay’s son asking to hold intangible things to Peña’s realization that a book could capture his own "joy and worry" as a new dad, the book is steeped in authentic emotion. The insights offered by both creators underscore a deeper truth for anyone working in children's media: the most impactful stories often emerge when creators tap into their own most intimate, often challenging, human experiences. The casual conversation about what random things parents carry – from Peña's stale veggie straws to Ribay's "approximately one million" scattered stuffies – only solidifies this connection to the messy, beautiful reality of raising little ones.

Hold by Randy Ribay, illus. by Zeke Peña. Kokila, $18.99 Apr. 21; ISBN 978-0-5938-5698-7