So I’m in a sequel-thinking mode, not because I’m writing a sequel to one of my novels just yet, but because I entered a fun contest sponsored by the very cool New York publishing group, Perseus Books. In anticipation of the upcoming BEA (Book Expo America) which starts this Friday at the Javitz Center, they challenged authors (and other people who have a lot of free time) to take a stab at writing the first sentence of a sequel for any book previously published, and then give it a great, new title. The contest is called Book: The Sequel (I hope the submissions are much more creative than THAT title!) www.bookthesequel.com

On May 30, Perseus will select a winner from among the thousands of entries, and then like a death-defying circus act, attempt a stunt that has never been tried before. Using an Espresso print-on-demand machine (which hopefully whips up lattes at the same time), they will publish a new, pre-written, 10,000 word book within 48 hours, then edit, design, produce, sell and promote it, all in time for a launch party in their booth. “The idea,” said chief marketing officer Rick Joyce, “is to disprove the notion that book publishing is a technology backwater.”

I’m not sure I share Mr. Joyce’s conviction about the publishing world,  but I was curious to see what my addled brain could spit out.  Here were my three submissions in order of save the best for last.

3. Fear of Crying (a sequel to Fear of Flying by Erica Jong): Life has no pilot, no script, and sadly, no director to cover your fat, incompetent ass when you can’t perform your required tasks, but of this I am sure- there will always be characters with whom you must engage, who know your real story and who are forever on the cusp of sharing.

2. Eat, Pray, Guv: Eliot Spitzer’s Spiritual Return to Albany (a sequel to Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert): David Paterson couldn’t wait to reach Silda with the news that would hopefully send him home- Onondaga and Herkimer counties would go for Eliot in a heartbeat.

1. The Devil Wears Nada (a sequel to The Devil Wears Prada by Lauren Weisberger): “Andrea, it’s Miranda, and don’t bore with your I-don’t-have-to-take-your-call-I-quit nonsense, I’m standing in the middle of my proctologist’s office waiting to hear what overpriced procedure he has in store to get rid of a polyp the size of a pea, and please spare me with your infantile retort about how I deserve something up my ass- the problem is that they handed me a flimsy gown from Wal Mart in a color blech I haven’t seen since the Germans invaded Austria, and I need you to bring me an Armani coat NOW, but please God, don’t embarrass me with one from last year’s collection!”

Let me know if you think any of these have a shot, and I’ll let you know if Perseus declares me a winner. To be honest, I’ve been reading some of the other entries on the contest site, and can see that I have some stiff competition.

Meanwhile, may the best writer win and may Perseus be successful in proving their point that a good book doesn’t need two years lead time to produce. It does, however, need a publisher’s support to get the word out. Hope other publishers are listening!

It’s that time again- when every print ad and commercial  shouts, “We KNOW What Your Mother Wants for Mother’s Day. No really, we do!” They crack me up. Their presumptuousness reminds me of the old George Carlin line about movie ads that say, coming soon to a theater near you, to which he would snipe, “Oh yeah?  How do they know where I live?”

So it is with feign interest that I perused the newspaper ads this morning to see what retailers and companies were touting this year- what products and services they were trying to convince my family that I could not live without. Of course there were the usual suspects- the candy, the flowers and a total beauty makeover, because what mother would not love smartlipo MX, non-invasive skin tightening, a neck and brow lift and endolaser for large veins? Yep. Happy Mothers Day, Mom. We love you, but God are you getting old and ugly. And don’t actually eat the chocolate- we’d hate for you to mess up that tummy tuck, which cost an arm and a leg.

Then, there are the ads for the more non-traditional type presents. A gift card for Swim King so Mom can pick up her favorite pool chemicals, because Lord knows that she doesn’t want less than crystal clear water on her special day. Of course what she’d really like is for someone OTHER than her to bend and pick up the leaves, mice, and science experiments with algae that are coagulating in the deep end.

How about the ad for the big Mother’s Day celebration over at the local pet shelter? Yes, of course, adopting stray animals is a wonderfully humanitarian thing to do, but is this what Mom needs? The opportunity to rescue yet another family member and be responsible for their total well being? At least cats and dogs don’t need cell phones, nor can they text from school saying they want to come home NOW because everyone is being so mean and it’s not their fault that they failed the math test because Ms. Solodakis is a moron and didn’t tell them what was going to be on it!

Then there are the classic Mother’s Day ads for all those wallet-busting designer goods. Don’t we all dream of opening a box with eight-inch snake-print espadrilles with fabric bows? The price is $200, not including six weeks of PT and a round of cortisone shots.  What about a $500 printed canvas bag that holds a lipstick, a cell phone, one form of ID and a bottle of your favorite meds? According to Barneys, Mom DESERVES this. No, Barney, what Mom deserves is a butler to carry all her crap and to fetch a bottle of Evian when her throat becomes parched from screaming at her kids all day long.

This year’s grand prize, however, goes to designer Judith Leiber. You know her work. She sells pocketbooks that cost as much as condos but can barely hold a car key. This year she offers a pig-shaped, multicolored, Austrian crystal pillbox. It will only set your loved ones back $625. And if you call before midnight, Neiman Marcus will also throw in the Ginsu knives. Really? Every mother is pining for a tiny, stone-studded pillbox to remind that  if not for the tiny, stone-studded medications inside, she might have to live with disease, disorder and dysfunction? Say nothing of the fact that in the midst of our swine flu crazed world, is a pig-shaped anything the best gift idea?

As for what I really, really want this Mother’s Day? Same thing I want every year. For my husband and my kids to gather, share a lot of laughs and to express in their own words, why they love me and feel blessed to have me in their lives. That’s it. The rest of this stuff means nada! Although they better take me out to dinner. I’d hate to spend my special day in the bathroom recovering from something I cooked. Oh believe me, it’s happened.