My lyrical picture book, The Edgecomb Jar, was a finalist in this year's Picture Book Party and resulted in my signing with my agent, Helen Masvikeni, of Megibow Literary.

Published in Dirigible Balloon, the poetry magazine for children.

My short story Racing Rules took second prize in the Owl Canyon Press competition.

One of my goals is to write a children's book about death. I know, bad idea, right? But I've worked with refugees and displaced persons. I've seen children at their first funeral. I tend to write about things that are overlooked. It seems to me that very few books deal with the sadness of permanent loss.

Here are some things I've heard kids ask or say. Each speaker was less than eight years old:

Why are we putting her in the ground? Heaven is up.

I'm sick and tired of Trey being dead.

Can't we...

Lellooooo..... Lelloooo....

A tiny friend is learning her words. She giggles, squirms, hides her eyes behind small pudgy hands while she gathers the courage to speak. And then - after a sneak peek at the audience - tries out her latest achievement. In a breathy, surprisingly deep voice, she tries to say hello.

Lelloooo....

It's clear she's both proud and nervous. She's feeling accomplished - look at all this attention! Yet she wonders - did I get the words right?

I wish I could tell her, we have...

There is an heirloom apple tree on public land near my house. It must be 75 years old. It probably sprang up from a discarded seed, and left alone, simply grew. Now, twisted large branches droop thirty or more feet from crown to dirt. Small, lumpy, dull green apples hang from the tree. Many more lie in heaps around the base.

Most of the apples have worm holes, or brown spots, or spider webs embedded by rain into little greyish lumps around the stems. Compared to the apples in the store, which...