After 2 days of migraines, migraine medicine and attendant insomnia I'm having the usual low-level mood plunge. And of course this is when I find out that I didn't get nominated for the children's book center nonfiction award. But then I find out that the book wasn't sent in for it. As much my fault as anybody's in that I totally slipped up in rejoining the Canadian children's book center and thereby finding out about the prize. For my publisher, I'm their first children's author so… It's not that I'm a huge ego hog or that my faith in myself as a writer needs to be propped up on such arbitrary toothpicks but inevitably it seems that awards smooth out the way ahead for books. They get more notice, more reviews, more school readings not to mention the (in this case) $5000. I see that there are some worthy looking books that are nominated though including the pink triangle by fellow Scarberrian Ken Setterington. A book about what happened to gay people in Nazi Germany. A very worthy and necessary book to get out there. So good luck Ken.