Lilith Saintcrow

So last night we hied out to Beaverton (the Sullen One, the Princess, and yours truly) for the Jim Butcher signing. The crowd was huge, Jim was funny, geeky, and wonderful, and everyone had a Grand Time. The Princess was pleased because she got a mood ring out of the deal, I got my copy of Storm Front signed, and the Sullen One, after listening to Jim talk, wanted a copy of Storm Front too.

I like taking kids to signings. Once they’ve met an author and liked him or her, they get a taste for books they might not have read otherwise. The Sullen One freely admits he’s never read so much in his life, and that being in a house where books are considered not ancillary but necessity itself is quite pleasant.

I managed to keep my squeeing fangirl in check, mostly. It didn’t help that Jim, damn his eyes, writes some of the leanest, finest prose west of the Pecos. (And probably east of it too.) Certainly doesn’t help that I want to protect Harry Dresden and just beat the schnoogies out of anyone who’s mean to him. How do you say to a guy, “I am so besotted with your character. Hee!” without weirding him out? And as always, many kudos to Saint Peter, the guardian of the sci-fi/fantasy section at the Beaverton Powell’s. He manages to put on amazing author events every time.

There is oodles to write about, but unfortunately I’m crunched for time, as I’m finishing revisions on Valentine 4 by the end of the week. Hopefully this will be the last go-round. I am already itching to get this mountain of work out of the way and start on the next one, including more Serafim scripts.

*wanders off, humming “Into The Wild Blue Yonder”*

Note: Elise, you’re right. The Flamboyant Cuttlefish is a new title, because I was watching a PBS special on cuttlefish the other night and the name just struck me as wonderful. Plus, they’re toxic. Hey, I never claimed to be sane.