We had the good fortune of connecting with Lorran Garrison and we’ve shared our conversation below.

Hi Lorran, what’s something about your industry that outsiders are probably unaware of?
That “kid lit” isn’t simple—it’s surgical, electrifying, and emotionally precise. Writing for kids requires the precision of both social-emotional learning and authentic human connection. You’re navigating enormous feelings using small, carefully chosen words. It’s not just storytelling—it’s soul work.

And the truth is, it demands a deep vulnerability. You have to reach inside your own awkward, scared, misunderstood inner child and bleed a little on the page. You have to say things you maybe never said out loud as a kid—and trust that somewhere, a child who’s never said them either will feel seen.

What most people miss is that kids are brilliant. They can sniff out “fake,” “preachy,” or “trying too hard” faster than adults ever could. If a character doesn’t feel real—if the story talks at them instead of with them—they’re gone. Writing for young readers means you’re not simplifying… you’re distilling. Taking the messy, beautiful complexity of real emotion and shaping it into something true.

Also? We write poop jokes. But, like, elevated poop jokes. Because even the most ridiculous humor can carry heart—and if you do it right, one well-placed fart joke can open the door to a conversation a kid (or a parent) didn’t know they needed. And that’s the magic: silly can be sacred.

Let’s talk shop? Tell us more about your career, what can you share with our community?
At Little Brainstorm, we make weird, heartfelt, ridiculous, real stories for kids who need them most. Honestly, our stuff lands somewhere between a half-scribbled journal and a Saturday morning cartoon explosion—equal parts emotional truth and total chaos.

What sets us apart is simple: we don’t write down to kids. We trust them. Being young isn’t easy. It’s thrilling and scary and beautiful and messy—usually all at once. Our characters go through real stuff: anxiety, friendship drama, giant dreams, huge fears. And also? They ride mutant monster trucks and have six-foot-long maggots as best friends. (Because life is both hard and hilarious.)

We’re proud that our stories make room for the kids who don’t always see themselves in other books—the ones who feel “too weird” or “too much.” We want them to know: those are your best parts. Don’t hide them.

Getting here wasn’t easy. We don’t come from publishing families. We didn’t have secret connections. We had full-time jobs, a handful of late nights, and a giant, messy pile of stubborn belief. There were definitely moments when it felt like we were just shouting into the void.

But we learned that you don’t have to wait for permission to make something that matters. You just have to start. And then start again. And then again after that.

The biggest lesson? Vulnerability is a strength. Humor is a superpower. And sometimes, the right story at the right moment can actually change a life.

If there’s one thing we want people to know about Little Brainstorm, it’s this:
We’re here for the kids who scribble in the margins. Who ask too many questions. Who daydream when they’re supposed to sit still.

We’re not trying to fix them.

We’re trying to remind them they were the heroes all along.

If you had a friend visiting you, what are some of the local spots you’d want to take them around to?
If our best friend came to town, we’d start with the essentials: first stop, Pink’s Hot Dogs. You have to brave the line, but it’s worth it for the pure, ridiculous LA experience (and the chili dogs).

Then we’d head to the Batman Cave—really the Bronson Caves in Griffith Park. It’s iconic, weird, and just the right amount of “Wait, that’s it?” energy to make it fun. After that, we’d definitely wander by the Hollywood Sign. We imagine that the neighborhood has secret tunnels underneath, and the mystery just adds to the charm.

We’d spend a full day at the Santa Monica and Venice beaches—rent bikes, hit the pier, maybe watch the sunset over the ocean with greasy boardwalk fries in hand.

And no trip would be complete without a visit to UCLA, where Lorran went to school. We’d walk Bruin Walk, go by Campbell Hall, and soak in the crazy energy of a place that’s always buzzing with dreams just about to happen. And we definitely have to stop by Apple Pan, the best banana cream pie in the world.

LA’s magic isn’t just the tourist stuff—it’s the weird corners, the old secrets, the mashed-up layers of history and hope. That’s the tour we’d give.

The Shoutout series is all about recognizing that our success and where we are in life is at least somewhat thanks to the efforts, support, mentorship, love and encouragement of others. So is there someone that you want to dedicate your shoutout to?
There are so many people who deserve a piece of this shoutout.
To the kids who remind us why we do this.

To the educators, counselors, school psychologists, and caregivers who pour love into every awkward moment.

To the artists, teachers, and dreamers who believed that weird is wonderful.
To our families, who ride the chaos rollercoaster with us every day—thank you. This is your story, too.

And most of all, to our dear friend Clydene Nee—thank you for your endless heart, your fierce belief in creativity, and the way you lifted others even when your own road was hard. Your spirit will always be part of this story, and part of all of us who were lucky enough to know you.

Website: https://www.littlebrainstorm.com

Instagram: @little.brainstorm

Linkedin: Little Brainstorm

Twitter: @LittleBrainstrm

Facebook: Little Brainstorm

Yelp: https://www.yelp.com/user_details?userid=BsuJlnuKwmaAkeZuYZRZOw

Youtube: @LittleBrainstorm

Image Credits
photo credit: Justin D. Tracy (in the photo from left to right: Mark Nazal, Mary Pastrano, Joe Arciaga, and Lorran Garrison)

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