An obvious advantage of self-publication is a quick turnaround time: a writer can respond to rapidly shifting social currents faster than with a trade publisher, who may be reluctant to move quickly on a subject whose relevance may wilt within weeks or months. A full-service self-publishing outfit like Zuri Book Pros, for example, offers an author plenty of options for the book’s look and feel. Depending upon the desired illustration style, the $40-60 per page charge includes layout, unlimited changes, and no royalty fees. A flurry of picture books explaining the concept and practice of social distancing, the necessity of wearing masks, and the challenges of on-line learning entered the marketplace of ideas in May via self-publication and they can be identified on the final page with the colophon “Made in the U.S.A.” with the date of printing in Middletown, Delaware (most often), which may indicate printing on demand at an Amazon facility.
Another reason many authors like self-publication is greater control of self-promotion on an Amazon store, YouTube channel, and social media accounts, on top of the more traditional methods of an illustrated series list or author bio prominently placed within the book. Several of these timely titles are the latest additions to well-established series featuring signature characters like Little Spot, who helpfully reminds little distance learners about one of the most important things to do before an on-line class in the pamphlet on dos and don’ts of distance learning. 
The early childhood educator, Shondra M. Quarles (@eyeheartteaching), lists her award from the National Celebrity Educators and being selected as a finalist in the 2017 and 2018 Indie Author Award competition. Artist and proud mom of two, Diane Albers tries to increase the instructional value of her “Inspire to Create a Better You” series by offering free “printables” and worksheets on her website on the final page of advertisements. The slickest of the three is the MyDragonBooks.com. The creator Steve Herman reveals nothing about himself beyond a self-characterization as “passionate about teaching children valuable social and emotional life lessons through his cute, fun, and relatable dragon children’s books.” The merch has been thought through carefully: stickers, soft toys, audio and activity books, and art prints (no artists credited) plus bulk shipping for orders over $25. Any visitor to the site can download for free a high-res coloring sheet, which the author encourages customers to return to him filled in with crayons.
The two most successful of this group of pandemic picture books—and by “successful” I mean are good reads and have a fair chance of influencing children’s behavior for the better–are the most lively and life-affirming. Shondra M. Quarles’ No, Calvin! could only have been written by a teacher. The twenty-five word text is brought to life by the Turkish illustrator Hatice Bayramogul ‘s pictures of Calvin forgetting all the rules his teacher is trying to drill into him. He’s an energetic, exasperating little sweetie and when the mask finally goes on the right way, Calvin and his teacher flash heart-hands and she tells him that she loves him. Katie Sedmak recognizes the difficulty of teaching children to push down their natural desire to express affection by squeezing, kissing, and bouncing. Her If You Can’t Bear Hug, Air Hug! is an adorable illustrated poem that models how to communicate friendship through laughter, listening, gift-giving, and smiling acted out by jolly, even boisterous, animals. The lion recommends, “If you can’t share snoring / Share roars,/ Chests puffed, manes fluffed, / We see who growls the loudest.” The tough reality of social distancing is acknowledged with a light touch, while presenting the alternatives as proof of people’s capacity to adapt and to enjoy it.
School is Different this Year and That’s Okay co-authored by Susan Leininger and Julie Bair tries hard to normalize the extraordinary with reassurances that different solutions for different families and different reactions by different kids to the same circumstances is perfectly normal, which is true. The happy community of birds and beasts are quick to see the upside of a year that promises to be anything but business-as-usual. On-line shopping sure beats dragging the kids from store to the store for non-existent packs of toilet paper. The mice mask, the giraffes do not, and it’s all cool. Unfortunately, the authors’ depiction of a complete and easy-going tolerance within the community hits a false note when over the summer we have all learned how quickly the act of mask-wearing could be politicized and used as a divisive symbol of political affiliation. 
Steve Herman, the creator of the My Dragon Books series, takes a stricter approach to training children the way they should go, as demonstrated by his young dragon whisperer Drew. His hapless pet Diggory Doo looks like a cross between a rhinoceros and some species of dinosaur, not a miniature menacing Smaug sleeping on a mountain of glittering ill-gotten gains. Diggory is a creature to whom Drew can quite sharply order not to torch his mask accidentally, finger sternly raised.. (Herman failed to take it into consideration that Diggory’s compliance with Drew’s prohibition would require the fire-breathing pet to hold its breath the entire time it was masked.) 
Poor old Diggory gets in more trouble for coveting his friend’s smart face-covering so much that he suggests a swop (a complete non-starter) and for giving Drew a mighty snap in the face with a mask cum sling-shot. Eventually the miserable beast confesses how much he hates wearing a mask and tearfully concedes that he will try to be a good sport and wear it because Drew tells him to, but he still doesn’t understand why. After Drew patiently explains it all to Diggory. he realizes that by wearing the mask, he is nothing less than a public health superpower and is inspired to contribute to the cause of containing COVID-19.
Lucy’s Mask by Lisa Sirkis Thompson builds to the same realization, but tries to engage the little reader’s moral sense through the main character’s imaginative flight about all the exciting things she can be as soon as her mother finishes making her a mask. It takes just a few words from her mother to convince Lucy that she will be playing a much more important role than an ordinary superhero when she wears a mask that covers her mouth instead of her eyes. Off they go in their masks to visit Grandmother while keeping them all safe. That is a kind of everyday heroism we can all emulate…
This worldly little chapter book could have only been written by an elementary school teacher with a great deal of experience blocking children’s underhanded exercise of agency. Florence Parry Heide (1919-2011) had the requisite qualifications to describe supposedly perfect little girls, being the mother of five, grandmother of eight, and great grandmother of four.
Gloria knows how to shirk without flouting Mother’s orders by taking advantage of her dutiful and careful sister Gertrude. Asked to clear the table, wash, dry, and put away the dinner dishes, Gloria drops the plates and puts the survivors away in the wrong places. By doing such a miserable job in comparison to Gertrude, Gloria is excused from helping with this daily chore. “Good for Gertrude,” comments Heide.
Dawdling is Bertha’s preferred strategy. On a beautiful day her mother tries to tear her away from the television and schoo her outside to play in the fresh air. Bertha continues to watch cartoons while getting dressed, which means misplacing necessary garments to slow down the process of getting ready. Her mother succeeds in finding the shoes and jacket in their hiding places, but by that time the rain has started up, leaving Bertha in repose on a cushion in front of the tube.
Harriet has learned that whining loud and long for something will eventually fray her mother’s nerves and result in victory. To get a slice of blueberry pie before the company comes, she just has to follow her mother around the kitchen, tug at her apron, and keep on message.
“Sneaky” describes perfect Ethel once her parents forbid her to chew bubble gum in their sight. Had they specified “in their presence” it would not have been so easy for Ethel to feign compliance and continue indulging in the prohibited substance.
Heide’s wry and dry humor is heightened by the quirky, slightly macabre illustrations of Victoria Chess, whose thick, squatty, catty creatures with perfectly round staring eyes and sharp little fangs are more menacing than adorable. They act as sly as they look, perfect representations of girls who maintain a façade of goodness through passive aggression.
