At Storymix, we’re no strangers to challenging the status quo. Recently, Jasmine Richards, our founder, took to the stage at the 2024 Children's Bookseller Conference to share her thoughts on what bravery truly means in children’s publishing.
In a keynote that was both personal and provocative, Jasmine discussed the importance of centring children of colour in narratives filled with joy and adventure, not just trauma, and underscored the need for systemic change in an industry that often favours familiarity over innovation. Her message was clear: true bravery in publishing doesn’t come from a single season; it’s about a sustained commitment to storytelling that reflects the richness of all our communities.
Read on for Jasmine’s full keynote, where she shares her journey, her regrets, and her vision for a braver, more inclusive future in publishing.
Keynote:
I’m Jasmine Richards, founder of Storymix, the multi-award-winning inclusive fiction studio. Now, that’s just a fancy way of saying we’re a book packager, but I like the term “inclusive fiction studio” because it captures what we’re really about: telling stories that put kids of colour at the centre of joyful, adventurous narratives. And I emphasise “joy” and “adventure” because, far too often, the only place you’ll find children of colour in stories is as characters in narratives full of trauma, or in historical tales that still revolve around trauma.
At Storymix, we create pathways to publication for writers and illustrators from racially minoritised backgrounds. We’re called Storymix because stories built me. Stories took me from social housing in North London – big up Haringey! – on to Oxford University, then Penguin, which, funnily enough, was excellent training for entering Penguin in the early 2000s.
So, I joined Penguin, then worked at Working Partners, a fantastic book packager, and Oxford University Press. I’ve also written for Disney and the BBC. Basically, I’ve spent the last 20 years either editing stories for children or writing them. I’m also a mother, and in 2018, I went to a bookshop with my son, Zach, who was five years old at the time. We stood there, looking at the chapter books, and I couldn’t find a single one that featured a child who looked like my son. And the real kicker? I had edited many of those books. I had written many of those books. I am, in fact, one of the Adam Blades of Beast Quest, by the way. And yet, I couldn’t find anything that represented him. So I decided to do something about it. I founded Storymix, with the aim of using a book-packaging model to increase the number of books on shelves that authentically represent children of colour.
People often say how brave or courageous I was to start Storymix, to dedicate my time, energy, and resources to building something with the goal of making a real difference. But what many don’t realise is that Storymix was actually my response to all the times I wasn’t brave. More on that in a moment – but first, I’d like to ask you a question: What does being brave at work mean to you? Perhaps your idea of bravery is shaped by the books we edit, design, market, or sell. But does bravery always need to be a grand gesture? Or can it sometimes be an everyday action? Can it show up in the moments when we choose our values over creating added value for publishing corporations making record profits for their shareholders?
Today, I want to talk about how, as a children’s publishing industry, we need to be braver in facing the situation we’re in. Everyone here loves stories – it’s our business to tell them, to sell them. But children’s storytelling is about more than who ends up on the page; it’s about the decisions we make along the way. It’s about who gets to write or illustrate those stories.
For years, our industry has acquired and sold the same types of books because they felt “safe.” And by “safe,” I mean stories that fit neatly into categories publishers are familiar with, books with a clear route to market, ones where publishers believe they can visualise the purchaser and know who the end reader is. Kids’ publishing is like a comfortable coat that you can shrug on with ease. Sometimes, we produce phenomenons. But this coat – it fits best an avatar who is white, middle-class, able-bodied, and southern. It’s an avatar that resembles this room. And of course, it feels comfortable. But here’s the problem with comfort: it keeps us stuck. Comfort silences voices. Comfort means we’re not making books that resonate with kids the way we used to. Do we even know who our reader is? Data shows that well over half of 8- to 10-year-olds aren’t reading frequently. Could it be that we’re missing out on readers because we stay within our comfort zones, even though all the paradigms have shifted for Gen Alpha?
So I ask you: What voices are we silencing because they don’t fit into our comfort zones? What ideas are we stifling because they don’t align with our notion of “proper” books? And what stories could we tell if we were a little braver and took steps toward the unfamiliar, whether that’s through new themes, identities, or formats?
“Be brave.” We say that to kids when something big is on the horizon, but brave can feel heavy. When people call me brave or courageous for starting Storymix, I wince a little because I know the truth: I spent a lot of my career not being brave. Sometimes I didn’t feel safe enough to challenge the status quo or the micro and macro aggressions that come with it. But other times, I just chose the easier path. And the thing about not being brave? It leads to regret – and regret is worse than the discomfort of speaking up, even when the world around you tells you it’s safer to stay quiet.
I often think back to when I was a junior editor and a manuscript by a young Black woman crossed my desk. It was a debut novel, the story of a child and her mother who struggled with a personality disorder. It definitely needed work, but I loved it. Did I take it to acquisitions? No, I did not. I was afraid. Afraid that it wouldn’t “fit the market” or “mould.” Afraid of the scrutiny it would face in an acquisitions meeting. So, I held that book to a higher standard than others. And I regret not championing that book and that story that deserved to be told.
Another time, I worked on developing a series with a young Black boy as the hero. Concerns about its “international appeal” arose, and we ended up changing his ethnicity. I didn’t speak up. I rationalised it as being pragmatic, “thinking like a publisher.” We’re here to sell books, right? But deep down, I knew I was compromising my values.
The benefits of regret, though, are that it can catalyse growth. My regret became a push to be braver in my future decisions. But here’s the thing: I wasn’t taught how to be brave at work. And many of us aren’t. We’re told to “pipe down” at school, to follow the rules. I expected courage from myself without ever learning how to be brave in the workplace. So over the years, I figured some things out for myself that I want to share.
First, know your “why” and keep it front and centre. My “why” is to serve the reader. Yes, I have an ambition to make money doing so, but the “why” always comes first. That’s why at Storymix, we spend time with our readers. Recently, we ran Storymix Academy in Tower Hamlets, where kids set up their own book packager from scratch, then pitched it to me. And their ideas were rooted in their lived experience. They wanted stories about rival schools, because that’s what resonates with them. Sometimes, I think we make it far more complicated than it needs to be.
The other lesson I’ve learned is to try new things. There’s a concept in nature called the “edge of chaos,” where two ecosystems collide and find balance in turbulence. That’s where we need to be in creativity. It’s here we have the courage to live, to grow, to adapt, to push boundaries. That’s where we need to take chances on new ideas and voices, even if they don’t fit into a neat box.
We’re experimenting with this at Storymix. We’re launching a micro-publishing endeavour with UCLan, the wonderful disruptors in publishing, to release a standalone middle-grade book for Christmas 2025. We’re exploring high-end formats, Kickstarter, and collaborating with indie booksellers to create immersive experiences. Never in my life did I want to be a publisher, to deal with the cost of paper or KPIs. But we’re going to be brave and try new things, because bravery isn’t about knowing the outcome – it’s about trying anyway.
Let’s talk about the summer of 2020. After George Floyd’s murder, the industry rushed to spotlight Black voices, stories, and creators. At Storymix, we leaned into that momentum, selling books and launching careers. But over time, those doors that had seemed so wide open started closing. This isn’t just in publishing; it’s happening in TV, theatre, and even venture capital funding for Black and female founders. The moment of opportunity is slipping away.
But bravery isn’t about seizing a moment when it’s easy; it’s about sustaining momentum long after the hashtags and headlines fade. It’s about holding the door open and ensuring the opportunities we create today don’t disappear tomorrow. Bravery isn’t a trend or a single summer – it’s a long-term commitment.
This whole keynote has been about being brave. And so, today, I’m going to be brave and say it: we are regressing. Publishing houses are clinging to what feels safe, and the rollback is swift. But remember, we have a choice about what we publish and who we publish for. We don’t work in publishing for the money, do we? So, ask yourselves: What stories are you willing to fight for? What risks will you take?
Be brave.
Comments