Happy Sunday, everybody!

I’ve had a crazy weekend so far. My dear friend Nicole came to visit, with the intention of going with me to see Maggie Stiefvater read about an hour away. We got all geared up to go yesterday, but promptly got stuck in the worst traffic I’ve ever seen. Seriously–we drove for three hours, finally getting within 6 miles of our destination, when the GPS told us that we still had another twenty minutes to go, and that we’d miss the reading entirely. So we tried to make the best of it: we got lunch at a schmancy little hole-in-the-wall restaurant that was decorated like a log cabin, then later met up with some very cool friends of hers to go to a very cool bar–Piratz Tavern in Silver Spring, MD. There was much grog drinking and rejoicing.

Us, in a parking lot, making the most of it.

Nicole, trying to hide her horror at the cost of a steak in this joint.

(I’ve also been sitting on a pretty big professional decision this weekend, which I’ll likely write about in a day or two.)

But Nicole’s gone now, headed back up to New Jersey, so it’s time for me to get some work done before my Sunday night television ecstasy of Mad Men and True Blood. And I’ve decided to put some time in on my submissions, which is where you guys come in. I’ve sent out my first batch of query letters on Seas Run Dry; eighteen, so far. And I’ve gotten two partial requests (yay!). That makes for an 11% request rate, which is nice, but could be nicer.

Last week I drafted a shorter pitch section for Adventures in Children’s Publishing’s query contest thingy, as they were requesting only 175 words. And I ended up liking my new pitch quite a bit, though it uses a different conceptual framework than my original query (as suggested by Sean Wills in my original query post, I’ve moved the conflict/the meeting of characters up to the beginning). I’m curious to see which you guys think is stronger. Take a looksie, please, vote in the poll below, and leave me comments if you have any other thoughts! Your taste could help determine THE FUTURE OF MY CAREER.

First up, query 1:

Seventeen-year-old Loril was raised by the people of the water. But though he was born in the sea, he’s not fully of it. As the son of a human man and a mermaid, Loril is a Walker, growing legs on the shore and a tail under the waves. But as he nears adulthood, shifting becomes increasingly painful. Soon he’ll have to choose between a bleak life with his dying pod or the alien world of a father he’s never met.

Eighteen-year-old Irene Cleveland also faces a choice. Wild and impetuous, she’s spent most of this final Jersey summer playing gigs at boardwalk bars with her band. Now August is simmering to a close, and she’s supposed to give it all up to chase her mother’s dream: a scholarship to a prestigious art school in the city. But Irene’s been considering ditching college completely so she can stay in the seamy seaside town she loves.

But then she meets Loril—lost among mankind as he searches for his dad—and her choice becomes a little more complicated.

Over the course of one tumultuous week, Loril begins to fall for Irene, hard. But he’s not sure what will happen when she discovers his secret. And though his pod waits for him, hoping he’ll one day take his place as their leader, he’ll soon discover the terrible truth about his human family—when one of them threatens the life of the girl he loves.

SEAS RUN DRY, complete at 75,000 words, is a paranormal romance for young adults.

And query 2:

When eighteen-year-old Irene Cleveland meets Loril Walker at the boardwalk diner where she works, she’s struck by his sparkling eyes and exotic accent. But she’s shocked to find out that he’s more than foreign—he is, in fact half-merman. He’s come to the boardwalk because he faces a choice: spend the rest of his life at sea with his dying pod or settle down in the alien world of a father he’s never met.

Irene’s been facing hard choices, too: breaking up her band, leaving her friends behind to go to art school in New York City. She’s even been considering ditching college completely to stay in the seamy seaside town she loves. Falling in love with Loril makes these choices a little more complicated. But his pod waits for him, hoping he’ll one day take his place as their leader. And soon the couple will discover the terrible truth about Loril’s human family—when one of them threatens Irene’s very life.

SEAS RUN DRY, complete at 75,000 words, is a paranormal romance for young adults.

Now vote here!

Thank you, as always, for your help guys!

Oh, and incidentally, if you’re not reading Sean’s book review blog, or watching Jaimie Teekell’s vlogs, then you’re not reading and watching vlogs. Or something. Really, I’m all about those two writers lately.

I finished this painting a few nights ago. I was working on it, very sporadically, for probably about six months. Still, I’m pretty happy with the result.

It’s based on a photo from a book I got from a used book sale–Foods of the World: Cooking of the British Isles. All the photos are like this, velvety darks and seventies color schemes. But I saw this one and knew I wanted a painting of it.

(The caption in the book? “Resting on the usual fish-and-chips wrapping, fried haddock and potatoes will be seasoned with salt and vinegar.”)

I pretty much adore fish and chips. There was a restaurant–if you could call it that–near my hometown called The Chippery. It was hardly more than a shack, and the ceiling was a repurposed boat bottom. There were wine-dark glass bottles of malt vinegar on the wall, and I always ordered “the Cabin Boy”–one piece fish, chips, and a little plastic container of cocktail sauce.

Plus some clam chowder for good measure.

I went there with my dad, and then later, with my mom and my pop-pop. My grandfather and I would continue to go there together into my twenties, after he had his stroke. The last time I was in New Jersey, Jordan’s dad (also a fan) told me they shut down. The loss I felt was palpable–like an aftershock of the grief I felt over my grandfather’s death years before.

So the food in the picture means more to me than just delicious food, though it means that, too. It also has something to do with memory, with family, with tradition.

There was a time when I thought I might be a painter. In high school, I’d stay up all night painting (this, too, has something to do with loss: my mother’s friend Chuck gave me free art lessons, my first canvases, my first set of acrylic paints. He taught me how to do underpaintings, value scales, teased me about Pern, took me to life drawing sessions at the Watchung Arts Center, then, over the course of a few months, faded away from cancer). I applied to art schools. Then I freaked. For years, I’d been struggling to define myself as either an artist or a writer. The kids’ at the portfolio review days seemed much better prepared than I was, and I worried I was making the wrong decision. So I changed my mind. Art will always be there for me, I told myself.

And it has been, but only in fits and starts. I probably do one painting a year, with other art projects thrown in now and then. You can find some of my more recent stuff here, among other places. I even illustrated a book last year, though it was a long, arduous process. I’ve seen copies in Publix, and although the experience was hard, I couldn’t help but feel proud. For some reason, I know that (so long as I push myself), I’ve actually matured as an artist–that feels fortuitous and slightly unearned and weird.

(Have I posted this picture? I don’t think I have. I made Jordan a pretentious portrait of himself for his last birthday. Most of the time these days, my art is a gift for someone. I rarely do art-for-art’s sake anymore. That doesn’t mean that it’s not awesome. Haughty White Jordan, as we call him, is definitely awesome, if I do say so myself.)

I’ve been thinking about this stuff a lot lately, thanks to SEAS RUN DRY. My heroine, Irene, is, at eighteen, supposedly about to embark on her own art school adventure–but she, too, is having second thoughts. Art is an emotional, loaded thing for her (as it is for most artists, I suspect), and she can’t help but wonder what her other choices are. All her life, she’s been Irene-the-girl-who-can-draw. She wonders what she’d be without that. Of course, a run-in with a certain merman gets in her way a little bit.

(I keep thinking about how, in her speech at our college graduation, my friend Tiff spoke about changing her own plans during college. I think that’s common. I think it’s a lot to ask of an eighteen-year-old, to know who she is and to make decisions about who she will be.)

Anyway, I’m rambling. Mostly, I just wanted to share my painting with you. I think it might go up by the eating area of my new apartment in my new state. Mostly, I just felt proud.

In other news, I bought a new, vintage-style bathing suit, which I absolutely adore. Polka dots!

Also, I really, really love this story, “How to Make Friends in Seventh Grade” by Nick Poniatowski, in this week’s issue of Strange Horizons–so much, that, when I finished proofing it, I sent the author a squealy fan-girl letter. Please do go take a look! It’s young adultish and so, so good.

My husband had a dream.

No, really, I mean he literally had a dream.

A dream about burgers. Burgers that were inside out. You know, with the bread on the inside.

“I’m going to make you something special for dinner this week,” he kept promising me.

Special indeed.

This is me, between one root canal and another (in one day!). My endodontist warned me that I won’t be up for eating later, when he clears out the four canals of my dying molar and gives me enough novocaine that I can’t feel my head. “Eat a good lunch,” the assistant said. So I did: cinnamon millet bread with butter, runny eggs served up, corned beef hash. Something that will stick to my stomach for the rest of the day.

What’s your comfort food?