Being a tall person, I sometimes don't see what is at my feet. In fact I often don't look. I'm too busy staring at the horizon, wondering what might be on the other side. And being a birder, I spend much of my time looking up into the sky - blue or otherwise. Sometimes I fall over.
The Writers' and Artists' Yearbook, with its gleaming traffic-light red cover has been my guide in recent months. Useful, but wearying at times like a back seat driver, and for my purposes somehow incomplete. It is easy to transfer blame to a friend for the rejection one sometimes feels.
But there is another volume I have overlooked, even though it is in its eighth edition. The Children's Writers' and Artists' Yearbook. It is brim full of useful addresses and advice I am not too proud to receive. I have been away too long. The cover is an encouraging green.
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