Once again, I am scattered, at sea, wandering aimlessly through Writing World. It often (maybe, always?) happens when I am between projects without a clear agenda or firm deadline in sight. So many possibilities, so many shiny objects.
I was perfectly situated to write picture books. I loved kids. I loved kids’ books. I wrote advertising. I was set to write with an economy of words. And I did. Or I tried. Deep in my file cabinet I have at least a couple dozen picture book manuscripts, all, if not brilliant, then on the verge of brilliance. At least I thought so. Publishers? Not so much.