Reading about more than several children’s book authors who recently signed with great lit agents who in turn signed authors on for 2 and/or 3 book deals with major publishing companies.

What recession? Or whatever you want to call it? What dearth of publishing? What self-publishing is the only hope, Obi Wan and other dire proclomations*? Or rather: So what? If I was wanting signs of hope—or proof—I found them. Or they found me. My butt on my bedroom’s bed office writing chair, I persevere.

*Will never have agent or book published if forget to use spell check and eyesight/brain connection keeps failing when obvious misspellings pop up in own writing, in own BLOG.

About PB Rippey

Writer, wife, mother, grateful. Fiction, memoir, poetry, kidlit (MG), member SCBWI.
This entry was posted in Adult writing, middle grade, Writer's Angst, Writing, WTF. Bookmark the permalink.

Words do not escape you

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