Free-lance writers have become aware that in the present political climate not everyone is welcome to submit work to publishers. Is being marginalized, racialized, POC, trans or disabled now a pre-requisite? Would an author like Edward Lear get anywhere today?
The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea
In a leaky rainbow boat,
They took some honey and manuscripts
Wrapped up like a package of hope.
The Owl looked up to the stars above
And sang to a small guitar,
"Oh stories and novels and lyrics and verse,
What wonderful stories you are,
You are,
What wonderful stories you are."
Pussy said to the owl "you elegant fowl,
How charmingly sweet is your song,
Oh let us be published, too long we've been silenced
by people who say we think Wrong."
So they sailed away for a year and a day
To the land where the Wrong-Tree grows,
And there in the wood a publisher stood
And sternly wrinkled their nose,
Their nose,
They sternly wrinkled their nose.
"Dear They, are you willing to read without killing
The words of our cat-and-owl tale?"
"I'm not," said Them, "and your allyship's wrong,
So back whence you came you must sail."
So they sailed away and self--published next day,
Writing in freedom from fear,
Uncensored at last on the edge of the sands
They danced with their pens in their hands,
Their hands,
They danced with their pens in their hands.
