I’ve always been a big fan of children’s picture books. My children used to get bedtiime stories whether they wanted them or not! Some children’s authors (some, not all) have an ability for getting right to the heart of a matter.
Whether it’s a parent’s love for a child, the need to belong or the plight of the world, all of these can be addressed with the simplicity of childhood. I often find myself crying over the beautiful stories told in picture books. Because really, aren’t we all children at heart, and isn’t it wonderful to be reminded of that?
I laugh at the images because I’ve forgotten how it feels to be shorter than others. And the colours! A paintbox of dreams lives inside every picture book. Better still, are those authors who make me laugh with the story they’ve hidden, just for parents. Clever jibes at we who’ve forgotten that once we aspired to be dolphins…when we grew up.
So it has been with great trepidation of late, that I have submitted my first ever picture book, for perusal by a publisher. I love the story, and my daughter insists I read it to her regularly. She tells her friends at school that her mummy has finally written a story for her. She doesn’t care that it’s not published yet.
Now that I’ve delivered my baby into the hands of strangers, I’m waiting. It’s like motherhood in reverse. First I create the baby THEN I wait! I check my emails every ten minutes and fret over how I’ll feel if it’s rejected. Wouldn’t you think I’d be better at this by now?
Tactics anyone? Strategies? I’ve already washed floors, scrubbed walls and cleaned out kitchen cabinets in an effort to distract myself. Maybe another story? Help!