Monday, March 1, 2010


I don't know if that's the official acronym, but whether you say "WIFYR" or "Writing & Illustrating for Young Readers", it's still a mouthful. You can't even roll the acronym together in a pretty way. How would you pronounce it? Wiffiyear? WiFiYour? Wiffa yoffer?

Hmm, well, the picture didn't quite turn out. I wasn't trying to steal it, honest! I even linked to the official site 'cause I'm just scrupulous that way. Well, if they have an official widget, I don't know where it is.

Anyway, that's where I'm going this June. It's a five-day, all-day workshop, and all kinds of authors, illustrators, agents, and editors are coming. It's expensive. Well, not really, considering how much a similar workshop would cost elsewhere. You'd probably pay that much for a one-day workshop somewhere like New York. You know I love a bargain, so I'm signing up.

By June, I should have a manuscript ready to show all the lovely native New York publishing types, since I'm editing my Rocky novel instead of starting the next one (thanks to my CG pal Sydney).

So, this brings up three interesting questions.

1. How will I pay? Now, New Yorkers might eye the tuition fees with envy. But they don't have to scrape out the minivan hand grip thingys in the door handle for spare change just so they can buy their kids parfaits at McDonald's, now do they? Hubby and I discussed. I told him I'd try to write enough articles to cover it. After two or three pieces, I'll have more than enough. 'Course, I might have grandchildren or be dead by the time I get my money, but I know it'll be covered sometime. Don'tcha just love the publishing business? So we agreed we can take it out of the tax refund if the moolah doesn't come rolling in by June.

2. What to do with the kiddos? I don't know why I was cursed this way, but for some reason, my children are the supervision-needing variety of kids. Before they were born, I thought for sure I might be able to drop them off in the jungle and let the monkeys watch them for a few years. But those rotten babies seem to enjoy hanging out with adult humans for some reason (though I haven't lost hope for the monkey plan yet--I've already taught them how to swing off furniture one-handed). Hubby checked his work schedule, and he may be able to take all or some of the time off. If he can't be away for the entire week, maybe Grandma can help us out. It's a good thing she doesn't read my blog. I haven't asked her yet. I'm putting off the bad news as long as possible, so that she won't leave the state when she finds out.

3. What if someone actually liked my work? I admit this is a little more of a long shot. Statistically, the odds are about the same as if you bought a lottery ticket and won a shot to get struck by lightning on a game show while simultaneously winning a million dollars and eating a banana. But you know, shoot for the moon before you come crashing back down to earth. So, assuming I hit every jackpot between here and Saturn, what should I do if I actually have a shot at being published? Being published is a lot of work. I know, 'cause my writing friends told me so. You gotta promote and market and revise--and then you still have to write! This is not a burden for those superhuman (and childless) folks who think it's great fun to sit at their keyboard for twenty five and a half hours every day, but we mere mortals are much more limited. When I raised this concern to Hubby, he said, "Don't worry! Even if you get published, it won't happen until our grandchildren are grown anyway!" Just kidding. Actually, I decided that if I'm going to spend enough to buy three McDonald's meals in New York, isn't the end goal publication anyway? So if something miraculous happens, I'll just go with it and see what happens.

At least that's what the monkeys told me to do.

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