Gawaine Away!

Sounds like a drain cleaner, doesn't it? It's almost as painful...

As promised, I put out proposals for my picturebook version ofSir Gawaine and the Green Knight this weekend. I sent eight -- three Canadian and five American. To pretty big and/or pretigious places; I figured I'd start from the top and work my way down. My proposals consist of a one-page letter which covers:

• the story plot and themes


• story length, vocabularly level, target audience


• why the story is a good fit with X publishers' line (yep, and I actually knew -- libraries and bookstores and back catalogs and a lot of grunge work)


• why the timing is propitious (I worked in a mention of Tolkien!)


• my illustrious career to date, with a sneaky
  note about why it's okay for me to write in verse -- since verse understandably makes kids publishers groan.

I hate proposals. Getting all that one page without resorting to marketingspeak is tough work. Pushing my luck a bit, I sent a one page excerpt from the story, too. It's a hard sell: "no, really I can write. even in verse. honest." Easier to show than tell. I sent a revision of this section, though my selection ends more cleanly.

I almost sent this section, but my friends talked me out of it. That's handy: if I get eight rejections, I can blame them. No, seriously -- for all the encouragement and editing help this weekend: Gary, Cameron, Therese, Marguerite -- thanks.

And James. He put up with a great deal of wibbling and gibbering. I do get sorta anxious when I let my babies go. When the time came -- late on Sunday night -- to walk out to the mailbox down the block, James (ever sensible) suggested he take the envelopes to work and pop them in the mail there. I wouldn't let him. I wouldn't even let him put them in the slot of the down-the-block box. Had to do it myself. With accompanying gibberment.

Wish these luck!