A month ago, I attended my yearly writing retreat at Whispering Pines in W. Greenwich, RI. It's a weekend filled with presentations on children's writing, illustrating, and marketing from some of the industry's most influential editors, agents, authors, and illustrators. It's a time to network, meet up with old friends, make new ones, and have some plain old fun. This year was no different. As a matter of fact, I'd say it was one of the best ever.
Mom’s packing a picnic lunch with egg salad sandwiches, juice boxes and grapes. She places them carefully in an old wicker basket from the shop, the one with handles, puts the checkered napkins on top and closes the two wooden flaps. “Let’s go! We’re leaving,” she shouts, twirling around, nearly bumping me. “Here, Mel, you take this. Tell Mia we’re ready and I’ll get Max and Dad.” I smile at Mom, happy to take orders now that she’s finally ready.
“Mia!” I shout, sprinting up the stairs, “The bus is leaving!”