Writing for kids and adults: how two very different genres share the same heart
A woman and child by the sea — two worlds, one heart. | Photo by Unsplash
People are often surprised when they learn that I write both children’s picture books and contemporary romance novels.
It sounds like two genres on extreme ends, but to me, it’s not. Both come from the same place — a desire to understand what it means to be human, to feel deeply, and to connect honestly.
The surprise itself is revealing. While we’ve made progress — romance is no longer whispered about in hushed tones — there’s still a faint hesitation when someone writes both for children and about adult desire. (I can picture people wondering how someone writing about orgasms and sex can also create something fun and innovative for kids.)
But that hesitation misunderstands both genres. Children need stories that help them name their feelings; adults need stories that help them express their desires. The same emotional honesty powers both.
The common thread: emotional truth
Whether I’m writing a bedtime story for six-year-olds or an intimate scene between adults, I’m really writing about the same thing — emotional courage.
Children are just beginning to name their feelings: anger, shame, joy, jealousy, pride. Adults are still trying, but their emotions are layered with fear, conditioning, and self-preservation.
In my picture books, I help children find words for their inner world. In my romances, I help adults (and myself) find permission to express themselves.
Both, in their own ways, ask the same question: What happens when we tell the truth about how we feel?
Why I write for both audiences
I’ve realised that I’m always watching people — people at a meet-up, strangers queuing at Old Chang Kee — trying to read how they feel, what they need from one another, why they say what they say, the way they say it, and how each response ripples through them.
This instinct to make sense of people’s emotions pulls me toward two seemingly opposite genres — children’s literature and romance. Both explore the same fundamental question: What does it mean to be human?
When I write for children, I think about what would make my own child laugh, wonder, or feel deeply seen. This work grounds me in the beginnings of emotion: the pure wonder of discovery, the first stirrings of empathy, the innocence of a heart just learning how to love.
When I write romance, I’m drawn to intimacy as a form of truth-telling — where desire reveals what we’ve hidden, even from ourselves. Through physical and emotional awakening, my characters discover what it means to be fully seen and to choose themselves.
Both genres feed the same enduring curiosity in me: What makes us feel? What helps us grow? What does it mean to be seen and understood?
What they share: the need for connection and wholeness
For a long time, I thought I had to choose — to be the nurturer or the sensualist; the mother who writes gentle stories about empathy, or the woman who writes boldly about sex and self-discovery.
Now I’m finally comfortable writing both and telling people I write both.
I realise the commonality in all my writing is connection. Whether it’s between a parent and child, or between two lovers, my stories ask what it takes to turn inward — to truly see ourselves, and to risk the change that seeing demands. Sometimes that means a child learning to care for their body; sometimes it means an adult facing the fear of being unloved.
Love, across all ages, asks for the same things: Presence, honesty, and the willingness to grow.
Why I use two pen names
Although both kinds of writing come from the same place, they live in very different worlds. Having separate names brings clarity — it helps readers find what’s meant for them without confusion.
It’s more than logistics; it’s about creative space. (I mean, I can’t be talking about lust in one Instagram post, and follow with one on farts.) Each identity allows me to inhabit a distinct voice:
Wu Shimin is the storyteller for children — curious, tender, and full of wonder. It’s also my Chinese name, connecting me to my heritage and to the multicultural rhythms of Singapore.
Mongsy is the voice of adult desire and self-discovery — unapologetic and intimate. Derived from a nickname, it’s deliberately versatile and memorable, a name that stands confidently in the crowded world of romance while remaining culturally fluid.
Beyond these creative identities, Simone Wu is the whole person behind them — the writer, mother, wife, daughter, and friend who contains all these voices, each as vital as the next. This name also represents my professional life — the content strategist and communicator who has written everything from beauty editorials, people interviews and food reviews to salary trends and workforce insights.
All three are me, and they simply express different facets of the same soul.
The heart of it all
At the end of the day, both my children’s stories and my romances are about love — how we learn it, lose it, and return to it in different forms.
Sometimes, it’s a bedtime story whispered in safety. Sometimes, it’s two people learning to be vulnerable in the dark.
Either way, I write to remind people — and myself — that tenderness and desire can coexist, and that both are part of being human.
I’m still building the online homes for Wu Shimin and Mongsy, but if you’d like to follow along on this journey — or just say hello — you can find me on Instagram and TikTok.
Wu Shimin
Mongsy
IG: @mongsywrites
TT: @mongsywrites
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