Who the hell knows, but it’s gone. I’m trying not to dwell on it. November did start off delightfully, with a trip to Portland for Wordstock, where I got to hang out with the ever-fabulous April Genevieve Tucholke and her husband Nate, and meet Virginia Boecker (THE WITCH HUNTER) and Heidi Schulz (GIRAFFES RUIN EVERYTHING) and see McCormick Templeman (THE GLASS CASKET) again and punch her in the arm because Jay Kristoff (ILLUMINAE) told me to.
He told me to. I had no choice. And it didn’t leave a mark. Don’t try to guilt me, McCormick!
Also realized one of my foodie dreams by eating ice cream from the Salt & Straw: strawberry honey balsamic with black pepper. Which was strange, because those who know me can attest: I hate black pepper. With a hatred that burns eternally. But this shit was good. GOOOD.
We’re in line edits for THREE DARK CROWNS. It’s turning me into a basketcase even if I truly can’t wait for you to meet the poisoner, the naturalist, and the elemental. Three sweet (?) sisters. Two to devour, and one to be Queen.
A quick note on writerly doubt: It is bound to happen after working on a project for a lengthy amount of time. You get to a point where your nose is so pressed to your computer screen that you can barely type for the smudges. And even then, for me, it’s hard to step away. But holy crap I needed to step away. I was hitting it hard for two months, and finally sent it to my editor when sending it felt like throwing it at her from across the room.
In other news, we are thinking of expanding our family and getting Obi-Dog a sister. Tyrion Cattister has agreed to lord over them both with extreme prejudice. But man, it’s hard to look at shelter dogs. It really, really bums me out that there are animals who want a human to love, and they don’t have one. It’s not like there’s a fucking shortage of humans, you know? And it’s tough, to read through profiles and have to say no because this or that particular girl is not good with cats, or is fearful of other dogs, because I’m sure she is sweet and wonderful. But I have to think of my boys, and who will best integrate into their lives.
Dylan is no help. I show him two dogs and say choose, and he says, “both.” Like we can just grab eight or so and start a band like the Partridge Family. They had the band, right? I get them confused with the Monkees. Who I then get confused with The Beach Boys. Who I then get confused with The Manson Family, and then we have a whole other problem.
So, to sum up: I’m looking forward to 2016, when there will hopefully be a new dog-daughter in the house, and for Three Dark Crowns news, and maybe even some Anna Dressed in Blood news! Who knows?