napibowriwee gone wrong
Depending on your perspective, I was either duped, shamed, or lured under false pretenses into participating in the NaPiBoWriWee. Write seven picture books in seven days. It’s a great idea started by a fab gal, and I have absolutely no business participating.
Because this is what you get, when a YA writer turns her talents on the picture book genre:
Ants march along the top of my window sill,
Following the trail of sweet crystals I laid for them this morning.
I lower my eye to their level
Watch them feel the granules
Choose the right ones for their babies
Then march off on their tiny feet
Imagine I can hear them stomp, stomp, stomp down the wall,
Along the oaken baseboard
Under the shaggy carpet
Around the blaring t.v. while my dumb brother watches
What industrious ant parents!
They trudge, trudge, trudge down the porch steps,
Across the grass
Into the hole under the old oak tree
And feed their adorable baby ants
Sweet crystals from my window sill.
Also known as arsenic.
Don’t worry, parents. As soon as this week is over, it’s back to the dark land of YA I shall go. Hanging out in picture book country makes my teeth hurt. And I am vastly underqualified, because picture book writing is definitely THE MOST DIFFICULT GENRE OF ALL CHILDREN’S LITERATURE.