I recently had a great idea. I couldn't wait to tell my sister Sarah about it last week when we met in Montreal.
"Our next book," I said, "should be an illustrated novel printed on the backs of fifty brown paper lunch bags."
Sarah looked at me like I was nuts.
"No, really," I said. "Think about it. We could fit a short chapter on the back of a plain lunch bag. Fifty bags would equal a book. Kids could read it while sitting on the bus on the way to school. And for that poor child who doesn't have anyone to eat lunch with, this serialized story would be a godsend. It'd be as fun as reading the back of a cereal box. Remember cereal boxes?"
Sarah was still looking at me like I was nuts. Finally she said: "It's a cute idea, Kate. There's only one problem. Kids don't use brown paper bags anymore. They carry lunchboxes or use insulated lunch sacks. They're greener."
"But we'd use recycled bags," I said, "made from certified organic free-range recycled paper. We'd sell the books to Whole Foods and Trader Joe's."
Sarah was shaking her head. "In some schools, paper bags aren't even allowed," she explained. "Plastic bags are banned in most schools. Nothing can be thrown away or wasted."
"But think of a book written on the backs of lunch bags," I pressed on. "It would be so fun. It's exactly the kind of thing we would've loved when we were kids."
Exactly. And that's how you know you've hit upon a great idea. For 1973.
"Our next book," I said, "should be an illustrated novel printed on the backs of fifty brown paper lunch bags."
Sarah looked at me like I was nuts.
"No, really," I said. "Think about it. We could fit a short chapter on the back of a plain lunch bag. Fifty bags would equal a book. Kids could read it while sitting on the bus on the way to school. And for that poor child who doesn't have anyone to eat lunch with, this serialized story would be a godsend. It'd be as fun as reading the back of a cereal box. Remember cereal boxes?"
Sarah was still looking at me like I was nuts. Finally she said: "It's a cute idea, Kate. There's only one problem. Kids don't use brown paper bags anymore. They carry lunchboxes or use insulated lunch sacks. They're greener."
"But we'd use recycled bags," I said, "made from certified organic free-range recycled paper. We'd sell the books to Whole Foods and Trader Joe's."
Sarah was shaking her head. "In some schools, paper bags aren't even allowed," she explained. "Plastic bags are banned in most schools. Nothing can be thrown away or wasted."
"But think of a book written on the backs of lunch bags," I pressed on. "It would be so fun. It's exactly the kind of thing we would've loved when we were kids."
Exactly. And that's how you know you've hit upon a great idea. For 1973.
