The fountain is gurgling in the background--the sun is setting out the window--my husband is inside making a savory-smelling pan of lasagna. So many blessings are swirling around me!

And with all these blessings coming to my aid, boosting my mood, I've decided to keep fighting until I sell these children's books that are sitting idle on my computer. I'm going to fiddle, and finagle, and find a way to get these manuscripts into the right people's hands. I'm not going to listen to the economists and buckle to the news that all is dismal, that we need 800 billion dollars added to our wallets to be happy again. I'm going to be a new voice, and work to turn my luck around right now.

Okay, just had to give myself that little pep talk. My computer crashed last week and I lost a tremendous amount of my writing, but a few projects are still viable, and available, and being floated around by my agent. When I was shedding a few tears about losing parts of my beloved Ted Shred, I felt for the first time that maybe becoming a writer was just too silly of an idea. Have you ever felt that way? Like you've been sent down a path, but that the way you're heading is much too weird? Not at all what you imagined?

Being on both sides of the book fence, that of the writer and that of the acquiring editor is a bit bizarre. I'm trying to sell my own books in one market and signing contracts for other's books in a not-too-distant market. Sometimes even in the same market… So, I'm wondering, if you're sending books to me, how do you feel? Are you geared up to keep sending out stories despite the rejections? What are your impressions of this odd time in publishing, when big houses are folding and failing all around us?

I'm personally thankful that I have a job, and that today I got to spend some time editing one upcoming children's book (Ravens of Farne), that I was fortunate to work on marketing another (Pictures of God), and that I got to jot some ideas to an illustrator of yet another picture book (Lucia, Saint of Light). I'm juggling a fair amount of projects and I LOVE it! Call me strange, but I love it as much as I love working on my own stuff.

So that brings me back to my poor lonely manuscripts that need homes. If you know of any thriving publishers who are looking for books from redheaded, ex-gymnast authors whose husbands cook really good lasagna and who keep on fighting despite the bleak, bad news, please point them this way.