Ten Things You’ll Learn about Being a Serious Children’s Writer

by Cynthia Williford

1. You’ll spend inordinate amounts of time planning how to mail your manuscript submissions so that they don't all come back as rejections at the same time.

2. No matter how well you space out those mailings, you'll still receive three rejections on one day (and that day will probably be your birthday or the eve of a major holiday).

3. No matter how nonchalant you try to appear in front of your mailman, he'll always know what you’re up to. ("Hey, ma'am," he says, as he peers at you behind the bushes. "Looks like a couple of rejections and a solicitation from that vanity publisher today. Sorry ‘bout that.")

4. If you weren’t the superstitious sort before you became a children's writer, you will be now. Crazed sports fans who wear the same lucky shirt for every game of the season become kindred spirits. (Sure, that sweat suit you write in might be a bit gamey, but you were wearing it the day your first acceptance came. Who wants to jinx a streak like that by washing the darn thing?)

5. You’ll become a practitioner of the Art of Feng Shui for Obsessive-Compulsive Writers. (“Who moved my lucky staple remover? I can’t write without that staple remover sitting on the desk...in exactly this spot...facing north...with just a tiny bit hanging over the edge...just so. Come on, fess up. I promise no one will get hurt. WHERE THE HECK IS MY LUCKY STAPLE REMOVER?!?”)

6. Before you're published, you dream of the day you get that first acceptance, and you don’t care where it comes from. After you’re published, you’ll develop a case of “only-itis”: “I’ve only been published online.” “I’ve only been published in non-paying mags.” “I’ve only been published by a small regional publisher.” (One wonders if Stephen King says things like: “I’ve only sold 10 gazillion books.”)

7. Your idea of the perfect vacation will no longer be the family, a secluded beach, and you. Now it's the family, a secluded beach, and you at home, where you can write 24-hours a day without being interrupted.

8. You’ll learn that writing for children is an addiction. A.A. won’t help, and Medicare doesn’t cover it.

9. You’ll learn to live with the lows, because the highs are so wonderful.

10. And the 10th thing you’ll learn about being a serious children’s writer?

Not to take any of it too darn seriously.

The Care and Feeding
of a Muse

by Cynthia Williford

Though I have never borne a child,
I’m still parent to a kid.
Precocious, pouty and perverse,
she lives inside my id.

Just like a fretful newborn babe,
when Muse is put to bed,
she’s up again in record time,
playing in my head.

“Oh, go to sleep, my little one,”
I gently chide her, pleading.
But all for naught, and soon I’m up
to see to her next feeding.

If you could peek in late at night,
you’d find me in my chair,
rocking my sweet little one...

     or tearing out my hair.