I hope you all had a terrific Memorial Day weekend! Mine was great, and I'm currently riding a major high, having made some progress in writing and pitching. The roller coaster effect aside, I find it so amazing that one day can be so different from the previous and the next. In earlier times I imagine this was even more true. We modern folk are sort of lulled into thinking we're predictably in control. It takes a good hurricane or October snowstorm to remind us otherwise. But really, so much of life is being in the right or wrong place at the right or wrong time. Genius or mundanity can be equally rewarded or scorned. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

So, please thanks the Powers That Be for your blessings, and draw on their strength when the curses flow. Reward yourself for
success, no matter how small, and remember that failure isn't always your fault. Share happiness, and be miserly with unkindness. And never, ever forget to live in hope. Peace.

One of my writing buddies said at our weekly meeting last Wednesday, "You're almost at the end, aren't you," referring to the as-yet-unnamed sequel. And it hit me that yes, I am. Oh, I'll probably hold forth for another 75 pp. or so, but we're definitely in the home stretch. And that fact, of course, brings up the issue that I'm no closer to finding a publisher for the first book, and here I am about to complete the second.

Should I admit this publicly? Well, to the people who understand and matter, it's not a shock. After all, finding a publisher is incredibly hard for a "normal" book, and what I have is far from normal. If it were "just" urban fantasy, "just" dark, "just" Christian, "just" Dickensian, "just" Egyptian mythology, I might have a niche, but all five? Ha! I've got a genuine Frankenstein's monster here. I have to take it on absolute faith that I have a story (actually three) worth telling and reading. It's incredibly challenging to remain optimistic, but I wouldn't even think of giving up, because I couldn't if I wanted to. Dorrie, Max, Seth, and the others would haunt my dreams if I don't let them out onto the page. And my dreams are complicated enough already, thank you very much.

So I continue to pray, write, query, and pray, in that order, in between the rest of my life and work responsibilities. I'm aiming to have the sequel done before the end of the year, and to either have a publisher or go independent in the same time frame. Think I can do it? Your words of encouragement would be welcome indeed. 

Recently, my seven-year-old asked me, "What do you want to be when you grow up, Mom?"
"I'm still figuring that out, sweetie," I replied.
"Yeah, 'cause you're still a kid. I mean, you're a mom, but you're not a grownup."

You have to love children for their ability to speak truth without the corruption of logic.

I guess if being a grownup means having responsibilities, I'm practically ancient. If it means remaining open to inspiration, possibilities, and the endless attraction of a new project, I'm still a kid.

Recently I launched my author Facebook page, www.facebook.com/JenniferEifrigAuthor, and reinitiated a project that had lain dormant for a while: a novel in tweets. This piece of Twitterature is completely different and independent of my other novels, although it's firmly in the urban fantasy universe. The 140-character limit is challenging me to write in flash-fiction style, and the rigor of daily updates is good practice, like vitamins and exercise. The protaganist, Irving Bunch, is an over-thirty-five, out-of-work vampire hunter in a world where vampires aren't hunted anymore, except by the paparazzi. He meets a similarly dispirited wannabe paranormalist who's trapped in her day job at Starbucks, and together they will try to sort out their future before the big nasties find them or Irving's unemployment compensation runs out, whichever comes first.

Is it smart to embark on a project like this, while still working on the sequel in my "real" series? Probably not, and I'm probably nuts to try it. However, as my daughter pointed out, I'm still a kid at heart, and kids need to experiment as they "grow up." If they ever really do, that is.

Yesterday my mother-in-law showed up at my house for five minutes, handing me flowers and wishing me a happy May Day before disappearing again. This might not seem remarkable, but what's funny is that she had to drive for an hour to get to our house. And, we're going to see her on Sunday. She didn't need to make the trip at all.

These minute acts of kindness are what make life bearable. They're spots of brightness punctuating the monotony, the boredom, the uncaring and despair that can otherwise creep in. They're kind of like the legend that says that the stars are holes in the blanket of darkness covering the earth, letting in little pinpoints of the Light beyond.

Now, my life is really pretty idyllic when it comes down to it. I have a wonderfully loving and supportive husband (he's cute, too), gorgeous children, a cool job, and lovely family and friends (as witnessed by the above). But sometimes we all need help. M'aider. Help me. Come to my rescue, I'm drowning, I'm dying. May Day...

And then help arrives. If we ask, we receive. Knock, and the door opens. There's a way out somewhere. It might be the tiniest crack to squeeze through, invisible at first, in the place we least expect or want, but it's there. 

My wish is that I have the courage to ask for help when I need it, and the grace to accept it when it comes. I wish the same for you, dear reader. M'aider. Happy May Day, everybody.