So You Want To Be A Toy Designer takes young readers inside the process of making the toys they love, from product testing to the teamwork and problem-solving required. What inspired you to write this nonfiction book for children?

Toys are the first objects in a child’s life designed entirely with them in mind, and I wanted to crack the magic open. Children deserve to see the hundred sketches behind the one toy, the prototypes that ended up in a drawer, the grown adults sitting around a table arguing about whether a teddy bear’s eyes might come loose. There is also something irresistibly humbling about a profession where one of the recurring occupational hazards is watching a child push aside the toy you spent six months on to play with the box it came in. A job that funny and that earnest deserved its own book.

A deeper reason is that kids are the actual experts on toys. They have spent every year of their lives studying the subject with total attention. They have opinions about which toys feel right in the hand and which feel cheap. They know exactly the moment a toy gets boring, and why. They have wished a hundred times that a particular toy did one specific thing differently. Those instincts are not preliminary versions of grown-up opinions — they are the real thing, and toy designers spend their careers trying to listen to children that closely. I wanted a book that handed that recognition back to the reader: you already know more about this than you think you do. The questions you ask about your own toys are exactly the questions designers ask. You are not preparing to enter the conversation. You are already in it.

I also wanted to dispense with the assumption that growing up means leaving toys (and fun) behind. The adults inside this profession are, in the most enviable sense, people who never stopped playing with toys. They build, sketch, prototype, play, and study play, and they get paid to do it. That isn’t a betrayal of adulthood; it is one of its better versions. Toy designers do work children take seriously, even when adults forget how to — and I wanted to take it seriously too.

The book is honest about the challenges of toy design, including failed ideas and redesign. Why was it important to show children that creativity involves trial and error?

Because the lie that good ideas arrive wholly formed and instantaneously quietly damages the children who can’t produce them on demand, which is all of us. The truth is, the thirtieth sketch is usually the good one. Toy designers fail in front of seven-year-olds for a living, and that isn’t a setback. That’s the job.

When a child learns that the toy they love was version fourteen, not version one, something loosens in them. They get permission to be on version three of their own thing and not feel behind. I wanted children to meet adults whose entire profession depends on being wrong, often, and in public — and to see that those adults love what they do. Iteration is not the obstacle to creativity. Iteration is creativity.

What kind of research did you do to show the day-to-day reality of toy designers?

I worked in three layers, because no single source could give me everything I needed.

The first was the historical record, which turns out to be one of the most charming bodies of biography in any industry. Ruth Handler watched her daughter give paper dolls adult roles and realized no toy let girls imagine themselves as adults. Barbie was the answer, named for her daughter Barbara. A navy engineer in 1943 knocked a tension spring off his workbench and watched it walk end-over-end across the floor; his wife named it Slinky. Eddy Goldfarb is 104, holds nearly 300 patents, and still walks out to his garage every morning to prototype on a 3D printer. These stories aren’t decoration. They are evidence of who toy designers actually are: curious, unembarrassed about play, often working at the edge of accident and intention.

The second layer was the present-day craft. I drew on industry reporting, accounts from designers at the major houses, the play-research literature, and — more interesting than it sounds — the ASTM F963 safety standard, which specifies the exact force a part must withstand before a small child can pull it loose. What struck me there was that constraint is not the enemy of creativity in this field; it is the medium designers actually work in.

The third layer was the texture of an actual working day, which neither history nor industry publication will give you. For that, I triangulated until I could build a composite that felt true: the morning safety lab report, the hour of fast sketching where forty-seven drawings get discarded, and three get pinned to the wall, the midday session behind one-way glass watching seven-year-olds pick up a prototype or — worst of all — get more interested in the box.

What I was reaching for, across all three layers, is what I reach for in every title: a portrait a working practitioner would recognize as their own.

What is the next book you are working on, and when will it be available?

The list is long — and continuing to grow! I tend to work on several titles at once and only release them when they feel finished, so the order is always evolving. Most recently, I was thrilled to publish So You Want To Be A Waterslide Tester and So You Want To Be An Astronomer & Exoplanet Hunter, which brings the series to thirty-seven published titles, and I am nowhere near slowing down.

The near-term lineup is one of the most fun stretches I’ve worked on. Several of the upcoming titles have what I think of as the “is that a real job?” factor — ice cream flavor inventor, candy scientist, professional taste tester — careers that delight children before they have even opened the book. I’ve also begun work on a fashion design title for near-term release, and my son is lobbying hard for me to move cryptographer and esports athlete (pro gamer) up the queue. He may well succeed. What I love about this stretch of the series is how wide it is reaching: from the timeless callings to the ones that reflect just how strange and wonderful the working world has become.

If I had to predict the next one to land based on where things currently stand, it would be So You Want To Be A Journalist. But new titles are rolling out continuously through the rest of 2026, and the full list — along with a sign-up for upcoming releases — lives at LindaSoules.com. I would love for readers to come find the one with their name on it.

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