I knew you'd click this button sooner or later, for it's here you will find a sampling—a taste—the flavor of the kind of over-the-back-fence-friendly articles to be found on the 32 pages of Once Upon A Time. We offer here excerpts from past issues...

How I Continue to Evolve As a Writer

by Richard D. Hartwell—Moreno Valley, California

Who am I to be published? What will I gain? When will I reach this goal? Where can I gain a sympathetic ear? Why do I insist on validation? How will mere publication quench this passion? Haunted by these questions, I continue to write and wait for the mail. She's late again, and in my mind . . .

by Sue Smith-Heavenrich—Candor, New York

There is a faded slip of paper on the wall above my desk that reads, "If not now, when?" I taped it there ages ago to remind me to make time for writing. Being a home schooling mother of two athletes means I have to be creative about when and where I write. Parents at the karate studio are used to seeing me in the back corner scribbling in a journal, and occasionally we'll talk about literature or kid's books. So I was really surprised when one of the moms plopped down onto the creaky folding chair beside me and asked, "How do I become a better writer?" I looked at my watch. Not the sort of thing I could answer in the five minutes before class was over. "Will you be here Friday?" I asked and ...

Sometimes that guy at home can be . . . well . . .see for yourself . . .

by Jeanne Lynn Colona—Coatsville, Pennsylvania

Every writer is taught to expect and survive rejection. Every day is spent in anticipation of our visit to the mailbox. Yet even a rejection is cause for rejoicing. At least we are sending our work out. A manuscript placed neatly in a drawer will never see the inside of a book's binding. Besides, the next publisher on our list is a sure thing. Right? Thank God for rationalization. It works every time. However, rejection at home is different: "I called a publishing house today for the information I need. They're going to FedEX it to me."

He uncovers the pots on the stove. "Feddix?"

"Fed Ex, you know, Federal Express."

"Oh." He opens the fridge.

Frustrated, I try again."Guess what else? An editor called me today."

He opens the oven door.

"Yeah?"

"They want . . ."

by Lizann Flatt, Bracebridge—Ontario, Canada—former Staff Columnist

A few years ago, I was on a mission to find out how I could make the best garlic bread in the world. Oh, okay, in my world. I tried store-bought spreads and ready-made garlic bread from the store. Nope. Then I tried making my own. I tried garlic powder, garlic flakes, premixed spice concoctions and even margarine instead of butter, but nothing said this is it. Finally, my husband solved my problem. He, an in-the-kitchen-for-survival-purposes-only type guy, gave me the answer. Use real garlic. Grate it or chop it, nuke it for a few seconds to cook it lightly, then add it to the melted butter. Simple! Now what does that have to do with writing? Nothing, but let me draw an analogy. Many magazine editors are at their desks wanting, craving, nonfiction with flavor. They're desperately seeking nonfiction with the potency of garlic. They wade through a lot of bland work, but when that one piece with zing comes in, it's a winner, it's a sale! The zing (or garlic) is what made the sale. True, the information has to be there (like your basic bread), but your spin on the topic is what makes an editor buy a piece of writing. Look at it this way; if an editor can get the same stuff from an encyclopedia, why would she spend money to buy it? So, how do you put the garlic in your writing? Well, you . . .

by Joan Hyman, Honesdale, PA, Book Editor, Boyds Mills Press—former Staff Columnist

Congratulations! You've sold your first children's picture book manuscript (or young-adult or middle-grade fiction). Celebrate your success, because you‘ve earned it. Celebration's over. Now what? You can expect a number of things to happen, the timing of which all depends on the size of the publishing house you've signed on with, the number of books the house publishes each season, the type of books on each season's list, and other factors. One thing, though, is a sure bet: Your manuscript will wind up in the hands of an editor. Scary, isn't it—to think that your thoughts, your words, your ideas might be scrutinized, revitalized, and reorganized by a . . . a . . . stranger? Who is this person—some harried hack who has failed in his or her own bid for writer's heaven and now slaves in publishing purgatory? Relax, dear writer, For the most part, we are . . .

by Barbara Seuling—Londonderry, Vermont—Staff Columnist

You are a writer of fiction. So why does everyone tell you "Write about what you know?" Why can't you escape the humdrum of your ordinary, uneventful life, or the painful past that you have tried so hard to forget? Why shouldn't you create other, better worlds? After all, you read for escape; why can't you write for the same reason? You can. And you should, if that's what moves you. Creating an alternative world, if only for the reason of escape, is one of the all-time important reasons for writing. But you have to be convincing."Writing what you know" is an admonition that comes from . . .

by Pat Rynearson—Scottsdale, Arizona

Are you getting form rejection after form rejection on your picture book manuscripts? Then it is time to take yourself out of an editor's "no way, no how" category. When I first started submitting my manuscripts I got tons of form rejection letters. Now I almost never do. Yes, I still get a few; being published doesn't mean the end of form rejections, though I wish it did. Through the years, I regularly attended conferences and critique groups and heard the same comments over and over. I soon realized there were certain aspects that editors found essential to picture books. I began to use these as my checklist . . .

by Elaine Marie Alphin—Madison, Indiana

If you write for kids and you're a parent or grandparent, you've got an unending source of inspiration in your kitchen, family room, back yard, and carpool. But what about those of us who are single, childless, or whose kids have long since grown up and moved away? What can we draw upon for our writing? If we're lucky we can remember our own childhood—the anguish of losing a best friend to the new kid, the humiliation of tripping and letting the team down in the relay race, the exhilaration of climbing our first tree or of punching out the bully or of acing a dreaded test. These memories are invaluable, particularly if they remain sharp and unsentimentalized by time. But while they can tell us a lot about how a character in a story would feel, these memories have the gentle sepia overcast of another time. We never whizzed past astonished grown-ups on Roller Blade in-line skates; were our ordinary roller skates ever as swift as we flew down the sidewalk with our skate key banging on a grubby shoelace against our flat chest? We never knew the triumph of setting a record on our best friend's Nintendo. Without kids of our own to observe, how can we . . .

by Irene T. Schmidt—Park Ridge, Illinois—former Staff Columnist

by Jon McCreight—Princeton, Minnesota—former Staff Columnist

Once upon a time, at a horse show last summer, I overheard a conversation that in essence, boiled down to "I thought about buying a computer, but I couldn't find a decent computer store in my area." Variations on this theme also pop up in letters to the editor of computer magazines. The strange thing is that I live in rural Minnesota, nearly an hour's drive from the closest computer store, and I've never had a problem getting whatever I wanted, software or hardware. What do I know that they don't? Well, I think my advantage is that I know about buying computer stuff by mail. For some reason, many people don't think of mail order when they need to buy computer goodies, but I'm convinced that it's the very best way to do it. Let me tell you why . . .

by Ellen Levine—New York, New York—former Staff Columnist

First off, let me say there are many myths/misconceptions, etc., etc., about writing nonfiction—that it involves facts, often organized in lists; that the lists are organized in outlines; that the more facts and lists and outlines the better. And that it's really good to read really good nonfiction when you go to bed because it will put you right to sleep. The core truth is that writing nonfiction is writing with all its attendant joys, agonies, and tediums. Of course, there are many different kinds of nonfiction. There are books that collect, organize and present facts (and maybe lists) about a given subject —"insects of Michigan's upper peninsula," or "barbershop quartets from 1875 to 1912." And there are science books, straight or with delicious side paths on subjects like forensic medicine or dinosaurs in Wyoming's past. And there's history and social studies and biography and autobiography. There are as many subjects in all these categories as there are people to think of them. Nonfiction, after all, like fiction, is the stuff of life around us. The nonfiction "problem" with kids is blazingly simple: they think it . . . . .

by Jane Chase—Mounds View, Minnesota—Staff Columnist

"Do what you love and the money will follow," says author Marsha Sinetar. But no matter how much you love illustrating, the money won't follow if you don't also spend time marketing. In a perfect world, you would meet with every potential buyer and show beautifully finished work. The buyer would fall in love with your samples, hire you on the spot, and pay you generously in advance. Too bad we don't live in paradise. In the real world, illustrators must rely on printed marketing tools to introduce themselves to the art buyers, to follow up leads, and to convince the client to buy. These marketing tools include . . .

by Ron McCutchan—Peru Illinois—former Staff Columnist

I recently had very good experiences with two new artists, both working for Cicada. I'm always nervous about starting with a new illustrator (new to me , that is), not knowing how they like to work, what their sketches look like versus the finished product. In the case of this illustrator, he had several different styles in his portfolio, some of which the editors and I liked very much and others which I distinctly preferred that he avoid. So an early question in my first phone call was whether he was aware enough of his work to see the difference that the editors saw. And fortunately, he was. Then the sketches started . . . and kept coming . . . the first several weren't quite right—they were too young and didn't have the edge we'd seen in his samples. But I've found that prolificacy is a very good sign in an artist, and Jonas kept drawing. As the sketches got good and kept coming. I began to worry that Jonas would overshoot . . .

by Dr. Lisa Rowe Fraustino—Forty Fort, PA—Staff Columnist

I'm all for inspiration and will abandon all else to strike my keyboard while the muse fire is hot. However, if that was the only time I wrote, I probably wouldn't be a published author today. People who work only when inspired run the danger of facing long creative droughts and producing only a few works in a lifetime. They also run the danger of fizzling out, especially when it comes to completing long projects such as novels or undertaking major revisions. Getting the idea down is fun, but it's in the careful use of detail that the idea comes to life, and that takes work. Perhaps most important, people who need inspiration to work run the danger of never getting good enough at what they do to publish in the first place. Most of us need to write a million words, draw a million strokes, to learn the craft at a professional level. (Okay, maybe some people can get away with less than half a million words or strokes, but that doesn't sound as catchy.) Luckily, inspiration/perspiration doesn't need to be an either or situation, I have found that . . .

by Margaret Hillert—Birmingham, MI—Staff Columnist

If a poem isn't accepted in one form, you might want to look at it with an eye to its use as finger play, action verse, big body movement, etc., the kind of thing that the Cricket Group uses in its magazines for young children. Some poems just seem to call for some type of movement rather than a simple reading—and you set them up with instructions for movement like this, with directions across from each line, not underneath, which spoils the looks of the poem.

Now sing your songs—spread your wings—keep writing.

by Ann Tompert—Port Huron, MI—former Staff Columnist

Some time ago, a group of Girl Scouts visited me. Our conversation ranged over a plethora of topics . . . . Just as they were about to leave, one of the girls asked, "Where do you write?"

"In bed," I answered.

After they had a good laugh, I assured them that I really did write in bed. It's larger than a desk, with more than enough room for a dictionary, reference books, notes, and all the other stuff I use when working. It is softer than a desk and much better for a nap. Recently, I discovered that I was not the only writer whose preferred site of operation is her bed. In her book, The Writer's Desk, Jill Krementz tells us that . . .

by Juliann Stark—Oak Park, CA—former Staff Columnist

My husband says that every book I read is the best book I've ever read. I'm afraid he's got me pegged. I refuse, however, to think this makes me shallow; I prefer to think of it as enthusiastic. Writing is great; it's what we all share and what has brought us together here around the OUAT backyard fence, but it's reading that has always made my world go round. One of the best parts of reading a good book is . . .