And then there’s rejects!
Back under the couch I go and the eyes looking out at the world are red rimmed and bloodshot. I nurture my hurt for a while, and grizzle and hiss and feel really sorry for myself. Eventually I realize I can’t live my life under a couch (not comfortably anyway) so out I come, lick my wounds, scratch nasty things about people who reject me into the sand and leave them there to be blown away by a passing wind, and then get on with it again.
Part of my life now is writing books reviews. These are called “Kids Books For Adults” and it started when I realized so many adults don’t get the opportunity to see how brilliant kids books really are.