Lately I have been taking a beating and, as usual, it’s self inflicted. I beat myself up because I haven’t finished that novel yet. I condemn myself for not yet reaching that 13.1 mile mark I’ll need to be able to run come December.  I chastise myself for floating a little while longer at a job that no longer provides the growth and satisfaction I need, rather than seeking new lands. The list goes on, and my welts get bigger.

But this morning I had an epiphany. I had just finished a 7 mile run when I realized I had not stopped even once to walk or rest. This means my endurance is finally improving. Maybe it’s not the 13.1 miles I need, but it’s a small victory nonetheless. This got me thinking. . . I have three novels that are all nearing their halfway point. They’re not amazing works of fiction, not by a long shot, but they represent a lot of work and they’re not the worst out there. In fact, I’d venture to say they’re interesting enough to keep people reading, and to keep me writing. That, also, is a minor victory. No, it’s not a complete published novel, but it’s something worth celebrating anyway. And although I am probably ready to move on to something new, the fact that I’ve succeeded and built strong, satisfying relationships with a hundred or so volunteers, that I’ve reached my income goals and maintained a level of success with both volunteers and colleagues, that too is worth celebrating.

So tonight, I take a moment to celebrate those small victories that must take place before we can achieve our larger goals. I don’t want to miss those in all the beatings. I hope you’ll do the same as well.

Then stop by and tell Jeff how much you like it. That's what I plan to do, as soon as I finish reading.

[A few days ago on Facebook, I posted a request for sponsorship of my Relay For Life event, promising a prize of unspeakable value to whomever was bold enough to help me. Two people rose to the challenge: Our good friend, Jeff and one of my best friends, Gretchen. This is my prize for them. Although its value is questionable, it's all I have these days. (And if you believe you've already read this - yes, you may have and no, you're not crazy. I posted it on my writing blog first.)]

TWO CAN PLAY

 “It’s beginning to look a lot like murder, isn’t it?”

Jeff lit a cigar and turned to his rookie partner. Gretchen was turning blue, and it wasn’t from the cold.

“Yeah, murder.” She said, holding her breath. “I don’t know many people skilled enough to sever their own head. Not even here.”

Gretchen was new to the force, having moved from Calgary only a year ago. She was a U.S. citizen, but had lived in Canada long enough to get used to not seeing corpses on a regular basis. Jeff wasn’t sure she would last in Chicago. The windy city had a way of blowing dead bodies around that would make even the most seasoned veteran wear an extra parka or two.

Gretchen’s composure was threatening to run away. She took a quick, desperate grab. “Okay Jeff, what next? This one’s new to me.” Jeff studied the scene and did what smart detectives do: he called it in, and fast.

***

After standing for hours in the cold Chicago air while the crime scene unit did their thing, the warm, greasy smell of Dot’s Diner seemed like a welcome reward to both detectives. Jeff watched Gretchen stir her cloudy coffee with mild amusement. “That’s enough sugar to make a horse sick, don’t you think?” She eyed his black coffee with disgust. “Well, I’m not a horse, so I wouldn’t know. Why don’t you drink your acid and mind your own business, eh, Swordfish?”

Jeff smiled. He hadn’t always been a homicide detective. Once, in his younger years, he was an undercover vice agent, Codename: Swordfish. Swordfish had a tough exterior, but his heart was soft, and after so many years of watching drugs transform otherwise beautiful humans into something monstrous, he asked for a transfer. A corpse could be prettier than a human, sometimes.

“Puts hair on your chest, meydele. You’re gonna need all you can get on these streets.” Gretchen nodded her agreement. “Yes, I suppose I could use a bit of that. So. . .now we look for the head, yes?”

Jeff nodded, “Yes.  And the hands and feet wouldn’t hurt either.”

                                                                    [To be continued. . .]