The bloody apron

I know, I know its time again to get out there and research the childrens market a bit. Things are getting a little stale and the idea blaster has run out of balls again, so I need to take my notebook to the library read a little and ask the unavoidable questions. What is flying off the shelves? And what publisher is stapling on the wings? I pout. I would rather sit here and write stuff. But its time.

Oddly enough when I think of markets I always get this vision of a fat hairy-armed butcher wiping his bloody hand on an apron, while wielding a giant cleaver in the other hand. It might be a metaphor for how I feel my work will be treated. Not that I mind the occaisional trim of the fat now and then but I would like one to still be alive in the aftermath.

The children’s market online only hints of the potentials. I can see that historical fiction is still quite viable. But just how many ways can you write about how young ben discovered some shocking truths. Perhaps that is a book in itself, “Let me count thy ways we look at Ben Franklin.”  Alright I admit  I am a smidgon jaded from staring at my rejection wall for so long. Yes, I suppose it would be a good day to take in some bloody aprons.


About roundtuit

I live in a bedroom town outside of Madison Wi when I say bedroom I don't mean sleep though we are booming. I raised eight kids, one overly dramatic weiner-dog two lop eared rabbits and a few irritating goldfish along the way. I've been married to my husband Mark for over thirty one years View all posts by roundtuit

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