Also, this past weekend was the first annual Author Faire at Cover to Cover Books. It was a roaring success, even if I do say so myself. Picturespam after the jump!

My tablemates were Lisa Nowak and Cheri Lasota, who were kind of hesitant about sharing table space with a lunatic, but I won them over. WITH LOVE, DAMMIT. (Not really. They found me amusing and not very frightening. Which I’m glad for.)

Chris Luna, reading a poem he wrote while half asleep.

Cheri Lasota, reading from her recently-released ebook. That’s a Kindle she’s holding.

Bill Cameron, reading from his “Princess of Felony Flats”, a short story I now have to find and possess so I can see how it ends.

Mike Nettleton, one half of the Deadly Duo, recently unshaven. And reading!

Ron Gompertz, reading from his Hitchhiker’s Guide to Ancient Rome. (He brought a helmet. Which I wore, but I can’t find the picture now. IT’S A MERCY, OKAY?)

Toni Partington, reading about crows.

Ann Littlewood, holding off a tiger with a bucket and a shovel. (I am not kidding.)

My tablemate Lisa Nowak reading. (The antlers are optional.)

Carolyn Rose, the other half of the Deadly Duo, with her most searingly personal book.

And THIS is what happens when you leave writers to their own devices. (Note that I was not kidding about the helmet. Note also that Chris is a trouper.)

Also, I managed to catch a wily, elusive Publisher! In the wild! This is PROOF! They do exist as corporeal beings, feasting on the blood, pain, and tears of–oh, I’m just kidding. Lucas is a really nice guy.

Me, I read from the beginning of Angel Town. Lots of snot and gore and heaving and maggots. I think that’s why nobody wanted to talk to me afterward. See, you really cannot take me anywhere.

Special thanks to Cover to Cover for hosting the event! And for sandwiches. Also, thanks to Vito, who loomed, and the Martian Mooncrab, who brought me a lawn-gnome Christmas ornament, and to Reader Rachel W., who totally made my day.

And now I’ve a lunch to inhale and some more zombie cowboy to write. Over and out!

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* Want to chat me up and maybe get some books signed? Come to the First Annual Author Faire at Cover to Cover Books! I’ll be there Saturday, December 10, from 11AM to 3PM, along with other great authors like Bill Cameron and Lisa Nowak. I plan on drinking tons of coffee so I’m bright-eyed and manic. Should be lots of fun.

* Today I’m over at the Orbit Books blog, talking about the Hedgewitch Experiment. Any day I can use the phrase “suppository supposition” is a good day.

* Oooh, they dug up a Pendle witch house!

* Big happy doings on the YA front. I can’t say much yet, but it involves a new series. I hate sitting on secrets like this, so rest assured, as soon as I can give more details, I will.

* A certain Squirrel Wonder scared the bejesus out of some guys in my front yard the other day. Which reminds me, I really have to tell you guys how that convalescence of Neo’s turned out. It involves me barefoot and screaming in the backyard again. It’s nice to know I’m consistent…but I’m amazed you guys aren’t bored yet.

* I am starting a project. It involves wine and livetweeting my reading of Anne Rice’s The Witching Hour. I did the first 25 pages the other night and had a blast. My favourite? “Hi, I’m Aaron Lightner/Rod Serling. For the next 965 pages, I’ll be showing you through Anne Rice’s id.” I kill me sometimes, I really do.

* To the skeezy guy trying to chat up the young girl with her dog near the middle-school’s soccer field this morning: my earphones weren’t playing music. I just don’t want to talk to people while I’m running. Consequently, I heard every word you said. And yes, I was looking at you. Because YOU ARE CREEPY. I’m glad the girl fled, and I took that extra lap around the track just to make sure you didn’t follow her. I’m surprised my gaze didn’t burn a hole in you. NEXT TIME IT WILL.

Yeah, Friday. It’s turning out to be a doozy. Let’s skip dinner and go straight to the drinks…

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“Do you ever take a day off?” a health professional asked me today. “Do you ever take a vacation?”

“Not often,” I replied. “I can’t go for very long without writing. It itches under my skin, the words have to get out. It’s physically uncomfortable.”

“But everyone needs some time off.”

“I guess. Sometimes I just look through and tighten what I did the day before. That means I only write about 200 fresh words, sometimes, but it’s tweaking and tightening everything else that scratches the itch.”

“Weekends too?”

“Weekends too. Except then I get up and wander away to spend time with the kids, then come back when they’re done.” I paused. She was looking at me in a most peculiar manner. “I’m not crazy, I just like my job.”

I’m the picture of health, actually, other than some anemia. My pulse is a nice even 60 per minute, my blood pressure is extraordinarily low because of the running, and I’m reasonably fit. The bloodwork says my liver is healthy, for which I give a great deal of credit to that glass of red wine with dinner. (You’ve got to stretch those cells out, keep ‘em flexible.) But all of a sudden she’s looking narrowly at me.

I’m not crazy. I just don’t take a lot of time off. My job is a vacation, for heaven’s sake. Each day I get to do the thing I was designed and built for. It lowers my stress to sit down and write.

I’m between books right now. Kind of. I have some revisions staring at me, but I am coyly refusing to return their gaze. (We’re in the let-the-edit-letter-rest section of revisions.) After the crunch of three books at once earlier in the year (who else was seriously questioning my sanity? OTHER than my writing partner, editor, and agent? Why, that would be ME. Anyway.) I deliberately built a little bit of time into my schedule to decompress. But am I lying about on some tropical beach? Hell no. Sand would get into my laptop.

I’m writing. A trunk novel about zombies, a cowboy, a schoolmarm, and a gold claim. Not to mention vampires and a pawnshop and chartermages. I am having a ball with it. Nobody will ever read it, of course, I don’t think it would ever sell…but I like it. I giggle with glee every time I open the document. I wriggle with joy at a neat turn of phrase. I outright chortle every time I throw another obstacle in the sheriff’s way.

This is a vacation, dammit. And the little dopamine glows I get from, say, a well-turned phrase or the wordcount reached for the day just reinforce it. I get a reward each time I sit down to write. Yeah, some times it’s like chipping hardened cheese out of wooden scrollwork, but there’s even some joy in that. In a job well done and polished at the end of the day.

Slight digression: I advocate daily writing because it builds discipline, not because I happen to get a glow from it. Some professionals can take a few weeks between books, or need to refill the well with time spent away, or days when they’re not dragging the words out into the ring and making them dance. (Isn’t that a lovely mental image.) That’s perfectly okay–one size does not fit all. And yet I advocate daily writing, and will continue to do so, because it’s very easy to mistake laziness or fear for the much more pleasant-sounding “needing some time off” or “vacation.” The professionals who take time off know that it’s hard to get back up onto the horse, and they have their own tips and tricks for doing so. YMMV.

“I hated writing in school,” she said, finally, taping the cotton ball over the bright tear of blood on my inner arm. “Your job sounds like my idea of torture.”

“Likewise.” I grinned. You’re sticking needles in me. I would be unhappy if I had to do that all day. “If I had to do what you do I’d go mad. Well, madder than I already am…”

“I don’t think they’ll commit you just yet,” she laughed.

But I got out of there quickly anyway. You never can tell.

And now, back to scratching the itch…

This Saturday I’m at the Author Faire at C2C books in Battle Ground! Also, check out the Hedgewitch Queen–my first e-only release, and $2.99 in the US for the entire month of December.

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* To those of you asking for a Hedgewitch Queen/Bandit King spot in my fan forum, success! Here it is.

(See below)* I am informed there are some copies of Reckoning floating around out there with a printer error. As in:

Just finished reading Reckoning. Very confused. Book pages screwy? After p278 went to p215 with repeat through p246 then ended.– A fan on Twitter

There was a printer error, and they thought they caught all of them, but such is obviously not the case. My editor is asking around about how to solve the problem. So, hang in there–as soon as I know more, I’ll share it here.

* This last Saturday my friend Zen E. participated in the Portland Boulder Rally at the Circuit NE. I was on hand with the video camera, and it was a great event! I am constantly surprised by how supportive the climbing community here is. Out of all the people I’ve met since I started climbing, there’s only been one outright-nasty person. The rest of them have been kind, thoughtful, polite, cheering on everyone and just generally being good sports. It’s amazing. Anyway, Zen stuck her last route of the day, one she’d been working for a while during the competition, and it was great to see. (The video of the occasion holds audio of me whooping with you when she makes the last move and her hands stick at the top. I was Very Excited.) Thanks to everyone who made such a great event possible!

* I’m getting a lot of mail about Steelflower lately. Guys, even if I had time to write the second in the series, there are other considerations. I know you want to read about Kaia and her troupe heading off to Rainak Redfist’s homeland to take back his birthright, but it might not happen for a while, and being angry with me won’t help or solve anything. I have the last two books of the series in my head–the third book deals with Kaia and Darik’s return to G’maihallan. But like I said, it may be a while. I am looking at a number of different options. That’s all I can say.

Coming up this week: my thoughts on epub-only, the Pyrrhic Victory of Pelennor Sunroom, and possibly (if I can figure out how to meld the music into it) a podcast. Not sure about the podcast, though. It takes me a while, and much swearing, to get those right…

Over and out.

ETA: Heard back from the publisher–no more than 200 copies escaped with the error. If you received one of them, contact the publisher’s Customer Service directly. If you can’t take the book back to the bookstore from whence it came, they can send you a new copy. (Note the “IF.”) Thanks for letting me know about this, guys–I got six emails in a 20-minute span about it on Monday, and about had a heart attack. Whew.

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“If not for a muddy skirt, I would be dead like all the rest. Dead…or worse, perhaps.”

Vianne di Rocancheil has been largely content to play the gawky provincial. As lady in waiting at the Court of Arquitaine, she studies her books, watches for intrigue, and shepherds her foolhardy Princesse safely through the glittering whirl. Court is a sometimes-unpleasant waltz, especially for the unwary, but Vianne treads its measured steps well.

A Queen can do no less.

You can read an excerpt here!

I am so excited. This is my very first ebook-first release. You know how I feel about ebooks, but I am in a position to take a bit of a chance here. Besides, I love and trust my editor. (Did you hear that, Miss DP? *cowers* Please don’t hurt me.) So this is a new thing, and during the month of December the book is priced at $2.99 in the US.

I am receiving two questions right now:

* “Will it be available in my country?” Hedgewitch is available in the US, UK, and Canada; check your favourite ebook retailer. I don’t know anything else; quite simply, I am not told.

* Will there be a paper version? I can only say (and I quote) “There are no plans for a paper release at this time.”

Unfortunately, those are the only answers I can give. The good news is that Book 2 of the series (it is a duology and only a duology, alas), The Bandit King, will be available digitally in June 2012.

I am pleased and proud as punch, dear Readers. I hope you enjoy Vianne’s adventures…

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I promised an Authorfest post! And lo, here I am. I took tons of pictures, but unfortunately, most of them were blurry to the point of being unsuable. The fever-shakes had me pretty bad–I hope I was not contagious, since my recovery since Sunday has been pretty steep. (Still can’t breathe near the top of some climbs, though.) Anyway. The majority of un-blurry photos I did manage to take were part of a shoot involving Devon Monk and a fan dressed as her character Shame.

Well, you know, if anyone had showed up dressed like Japh, I probably would have bolted for the exit. He’s not an encouraging sight.

You can’t quite see her, but on the left a few people back is Ursula le Guin. She’s signing for a HUGE line of people. The Selkie was a trouper, and stood in that line so I could get my battered mass-market paperback of Tombs of Atuan signed. Later, when the crowd died down, I got to go stand in the line and just tell her “Thank you for Tenar.” I have to admit that I broke down and cried. It was that awesome. She was marvelously kind, and the fire in her eyes is scorching as ever.

Feverish and shaking, I clambered up on a chair (not a good idea) and got this shot of the authors and some of the crowd. I would guess there were 150-200 people there in line alone, plus members of the 501st and of course, thirty-plus local authors. (There’s a reason I call Peter H., the sci-fi/fantasy guy at Cedar Hills Powell’s, “Saint Peter.”) It was packed.

Recognize this guy? If you’re one of Devon Monk’s readers, you do. Readers, meet Shame. At first I thought he was one of Devon’s sons’ friends; I was all, “Do I need to teach this punk a lesson, Devon?” Then she explained, and he was in-character until he cracked a wide, electric smile. He was a good sport, especially with we dragged him out into the hall for a photo shoot with Devon.

Speaking of which…

Dame Devon’s going to kill me, but I couldn’t pass this up. Here, perfectly encapsulated, is the relationship between Author and Character. Feel the love? I bet you do.

Big thanks to Peter, and L.D. the Bookweasel, as well as the staff of Cedar Hills Crossing Powell’s, for another wonderful event. Also, a big heart-you goes out to my fellow authors, all of whom were very gracious when my big mouth opened and fever-induced mania came out. (Mary Robinette Kowal, who everyone should be reading, and Barb Hendee, TEAM LEESIL, in particular, and Meljean Brook.) And, last but certainly not least, thank you, dear Readers, for showing up in force. (Especially M. Oyen, but NOT Flinx–where were you, man? *grin*) It was a lovely event; I wish my health had been better.

Now I’ve got to go cower in the corner in case Dame Devon comes looking for me. I promised not to post anything. *evil grin* Hopefully, she’ll show some mercy, because I didn’t post the video…

…oh, my, I wasn’t supposed to mention that, was I?

*flees*

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I am proud and happy (as well as knocking knees with fear) to tell you that Reckoning, the fifth and final in the Strange Angels series, is officially released!

Nobody expected Dru Anderson to survive this long. Not Graves. Not Christophe. Not even Dru. She’s battled killer zombies, jealous djamphirs, and bloodthirsty suckers straight out of her worst nightmares. But now that Dru has bloomed into a full-fledged svetocha – rare, beautiful, and toxic to all vampires – the worst is yet to come.

Now available at Barnes & Noble, Indiebound, BooksAMillion, Powell’s, the Book Depository, and Amazon!

I am sad to be saying goodbye to Dru. From the first moment I saw her standing in her kitchen, staring at the back door while a zombie’s fleshless finger tapped against the glass, I’ve known that she would grow up and continue on. It’s very bittersweet, but I’m proud of her. She’s learned a lot along the way, and through it all she’s remained that same smart, driven, incredibly loyal girl. Growing up is never easy–it’s even less easy when there’s vampires looking to tear your head off and betrayal lurking around every corner.

But I think she’s done just fine, and I’m glad she has exactly the right ending.

Now I’m going to go be a puddle of frayed release-day nerves. See you around.

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Angel Town, the last of the Jill Kismet series (for now) is now shipping from Barnes & Noble, Powell’s, and Amazon.

She wakes up in her own grave. She doesn’t know who put her there, she doesn’t know where she is, and she has no friends or family.

Jill Kismet.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be hunched in a corner shaking, as is my usual wont on release days. You’d think they would get easier to handle, but no–I feel the same fierce anxiety each time.

Over and out!

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The kids are still talking about the hotel pool, and being able to watch all the television they wanted to. They attended a couple panels, liked the dealer’s room and the game room, and had fun spotting costumes. They weren’t too into panels–the siren call of the hotel room, with AC and the big wide television, was too strong to ignore.

Oh well.

As for me, I had a lovely time. Kudos must go to Chris Snell for organizing, and Kathy McCracken, who is a saint for ferrying three punch-drunk writers to her place of employment, ferrying us back, and going drinking with us as well. (Well, there was dinner involved, so it wasn’t as bad as it sounds.) The list of people I enjoyed muchly includes Erik Scott de Bie, who can out-deadpan me, Moira J. Moore (hey Moira, the Princess finished your book the night we got home, she loved it), Roxanne Skelly (keep going, even if you are in revision hell), upcoming writers Kaye T. and Esther J., the nice guy in Registration who figured out the badges for the Prince and Princess, Frances Pauli (who almost made me moderate again), and Courtney Brasil, who was a trouper, let me tell you. That panel didn’t let up until after MIDNIGHT. Plus, the young man who I used as an example during the Paranormal Paramours panel: you were a good sport, thank you.

I wanted to take a bunch of pictures, but I was going so fast trying to get to the next place I needed to be…that I forgot. Bad author, no cookie for me.

Anyway, it was a lot of fun. The drive out there was pretty, even though coming into Spokane through the construction on I90 was an exercise in patience. The drive home was gorgeous, except for the Prince and Princess in the car for six hours growing heartily tired of each other. (They spent all of yesterday in their rooms, recuperating and catching up on alone-time.) I think I’ve about recovered–I was toast yesterday, couldn’t form a complete sentence to save my life.

Anyway. My big purchase in the dealer’s room was a pocket-watch that Bannon & Clare just had to have. I don’t even know how to wear a bloody pocket watch anymore, but it’s gorgeous and I love it. Thanks also to all the fans, both at the convention and at the Hastings signing, you were uniformly a pleasure to meet and chat with.

And that’s about it. I got up this morning, ran five miles, bouldered with my pal ZenEllen, and am settling into deadlines.

Whew. It’s good to be back.

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