Libraries, innovate! Because, frankly, I love you. I won’t lose sleep if over-priced* bookstores fold, but I want you to succeed. Brian Mathews, what an excellent paper! If people get nothing else out of it than to have the spirit of innovation, job well done.

“Think Like a StartUp: A White Paper to Inspire Library Entrepreneurialism”

*If a decent percentage went to authors and illustrators, the price would be justified, but as things are …

Rukhsana Khan’s Big Red Lollipop is my favorite kind of multicultural picture book: the kind that doesn’t sound like a multicultural picture book. I shy away from books that attempt to flaunt their multicultural aspects rather than their great tales. In fact, I find that the more an author attempts to sound ethnic, the less authentic the work reads.

Big Red Lollipop doesn’t try any of the usual tricks:

• Forgetting to focus on the universal story. In Lollipop, the main character Rubina is invited to a schoolmate’s birthday party. Rubina’s mother refuses to let her attend the party unless she brings along her little sister. Readers from any culture can sympathize with the embarrassing situation that follows as well as Rubina’s frustration with her family.
• Dropping in foreign words seemingly for the sake of having foreign words. Nothing wrong with adding well-chosen words, but often the placement of such words comes off as random and unnecessary. Throwing in vocab to add multicultural flair creates hiccups in the flow of the text (especially when nonnative speakers read the books aloud). Who wants a mini-vocab lesson sprinkled over a great story?
• Making cardboard villains. Stereotyped bad guys are common in movies, but they make appearances in children’s lit, too. Lollipop doesn’t try to make villains out of Rubina’s schoolmates (who have a different cultural background than she does). Although the contrast between the social norms of Rubina’s native culture and the one she now lives in causes tension, it’s the situation—not anyone’s ill intent—that’s the problem.

Big Red Lollipop is a worthy book filled with lovely, often clever, illustrations. It’s available at any major retailer. To read it online (and help a worthy organization!) visit www.wegivebooks.org.

The November/December 2011 SCBWI Bulletin contained an open letter from President Stephen Mooser and Executive Director Lin Oliver. Mooser and Oliver addressed the growing industry practice of no-response rejection. Meaning, agents and publishers want writers to assume their manuscripts are rejected if they receive no response after a specified time, usually three to six months.

Although the letter acknowledged the hassle for editors and agents to respond to every manuscript, it also pointed out the problems with not doing so. First, a writer’s time is as crucial as anyone’s in the publishing process. Instead of receiving an email on the final status of a manuscript (the digital equivalent of a form rejection letter), a writer must wonder if her work ever reached its destination in the first place. If an editor happens to read a manuscript three months after she receives it and knows it’s not to her tastes, why should a writer have to wait four or six months to assume that’s the case?

Second, the no-response policy helps perpetuate the problem it is meant to alleviate. Editors and agents don’t want to deal with refusal letters, because they can consume valuable time. However, not informing a writer of a rejection creates conditions in the future for excessive submissions. As an organization, SCBWI does not approve of mass submissions. Because of the lag time waiting for replies (or no replies, as often occurs now), many writers I know mass submit, anyway. Experienced writers often contact several likely prospects at a time, wait, and send out another round once the first set results in no sales. I’ve even heard many agents and editors at conferences admit they expect as much.

The problem, of course, is that some inexperienced writers will scoff at waiting months for a no-response rejection (understandably so), and react with the ultimate mailbox artery plaque: blanket submissions. By submitting to every publishing house in a guide book, novices inundate inboxes and mailrooms with manuscripts that are unfit for certain houses. Picture books end up in the offices of YA imprints and sci-fi novels go to board book publishers. Blanket submissions cause more editors and agents to turn to no-response policies, so no one wins.

Although all writers would benefit from personalized rejections, most understand that option isn’t possible. However, a simple “No, thanks” email would settle the issue and allow a writer to continue on to the next prospect. A form email is better than nothing at all.

Perhaps the answer is as simple as investing in the time to create a form rejection email with a general address (status @ bigpublisher.com). A “This email address does not accept incoming mail. Please do not reply” message at the end should discourage even the most persistent writers from attempting to begin an online dialogue regarding their manuscripts.

Yes, writers would all like to receive suggestions on how to improve their rejected manuscripts. Actually, even a one-sentence note (“I stopped reading your work on page #___ paragraph #____ because __________. ”) delivered by carrier pigeon would be helpful. Yet, writers know the limitations editors and agents have on their schedules. Writers accept the unfortunate necessity of form rejections. Even so, professional courtesy urges a writer to ask, “If I must spend months or years to write and edit my manuscript, choose a handful of houses and agencies to query, and adjust each submission to conform to your guidelines, can you spend a minute to formally reject my work in a simple email?”

I hope so.