Yeah, so I set fire to my book last year: every page of it, after a minor and tearful ceremony, in the brick cavity of an undersized fireplace in an average vacation rental on the McKenzie River. (This wasn’t the children’s book—that’s what I wrote to make myself feel better after I burnt up the…
Yesterday afternoon I stood before a row of humidifiers, trying to make a decision. Would it be the adorable, frog-shaped one that would make Chicken Little smile, or the practical, cheaper one that would make sense beyond the animal-appliance-friendly days of young childhood? The world swayed and my mind went fuzzy. Maybe if I weren’t…
I’ve just spent an hour identifying eight new publishers to submit my children’s book manuscript to (must get back on the bus!), and am feeling chagrined about my rant of last post. Namely, because now I recall that there are warnings all over the listings in Children’s Writer’s and Illustrator’s Market that some publishers, when…
Twelve weeks ago I sent out seven queries+manuscripts for my children’s book. I think it’s safe to say at this point that I’ve gotten all of the responses that I am going to get: which is to say, precisely one. That lonely reply was a boomerang (what I call the rejections that come back so…
We went to an inauguration playdate this morning. On the way over, Chicken Noodle (not yet four) was convinced that Barack Obama himself was coming to Ethan’s house. “When he gets there, I am going to freak out!” she said. I didn’t correct her for a few minutes because it was so darn cute. Last…
Malcolm Gladwell wrote an article titled “Late Bloomers” for the New Yorker last year. It was based on work for his book “Outliers” and compared two kinds of creative genius. There are two styles of going about achieving a work of art, he wrote. In the first, a person sees their project fully formed in…
The other day was Captain Daddy’s birthday. Presumably because it comes on the heels of the holidays, Chicken Little was confused and spent the day saying “Happy New You, Daddy!” Only a 22-month-old could come up with such a delightful way to announce the beginning of another personal year. How many “new yous” are left…
I sit down to write my first blog entry. I begin the first sentence. I hear, “Mommy, we want popcorn!” I get up. I pop popcorn. Never mind that it is 7:43 a.m. and some other mommies might think popcorn isn’t a breakfast food. I deliver the bowl to the requesting parties. I return to…