I’m so excited to have another piece published in Writer’s Digest this month!
It’s their back of the book column named “Reject a Hit” where they ask you to spoof-reject a famous book. This was a fun one to write. I spoof-rejected Runny Babbit: A Billy Sook by Shel Silverstein. My husband Tim suggested it while we were driving to the U.P. for the Fourth of July and it was too irresistible. Instead of enjoying the views of the Mackinac Bridge, I was writing and giggling in the passenger seat with my notebook.
Pick up the November issue of Writer’s Digest to read all their great articles (it’s my fav writers’ mag)! Here’s my piece (with text below).
If you haven’t read Runny Babbit with your kids, it’s a must! Also, it’s a fine hit among adults and we’ve actually gotten physical over whose turn it was to read the next poem aloud. (Kids meanwhile have left the room and started the car. On fire.)
Dear Mr. Silverstein,
Thank you for submitting your pildren’s choetry book, “Runny Babbit: A Billy Sook.” At first, I found it cather ratching. I took it home to let it sit awhile, and I had a little fun with it, too, dalking the wog and serving dicken chinner for supper. But, unfortunately, it wore thin and soon my family asked me to nook cormally and leave the wog out of it.
But I didn’t give up yet. I took it to a Tarent Peacher meeting. While they argued over dyslexia funding, I shared a sick little laugh over Runny Babbit with my neighbor, the gym teacher. We agreed – your book could be a Four de Torce – but would be the bane of teachers everywhere. I thought it was a “no” for your book at this point. But when Principal Houghton burrowed her frows at us across the empty library, I reconsidered yet again.
Finally I took it to our Meditorial Eeting at the agency. A small scuffle broke out for the pages of your book. Everyone wanted to rolve the siddles in your poems. Rita lost an earring in the deal and Earl blew up a spowl of baghetti in the microwave. But the worst was when Adam put his phone on silent to recite your rhymes out loud, standing on a chair.
And… he missed a long-awaited call for a fix-sigure deal at auction. It’s put our agency in jinancial feopardy. We needed that deal. Without it, we can’t publish your bamn dook or anyone else’s for that matter.
Tonight, my hamily is fungry, my post on the PTA is a ping of the thast and my bagency is ankrupt.
It’s a definite no. You’ve surely put the run on this babbit.
Literary Agent,
Chandace Kapple
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