You don’t get a great blog this week because I am entering the misery and hell that is known as The Looming Deadline. The third book in the series must be finished—even if it would be very content to snicker at me from its cushy place on my hard-drive. Thus, hours must be put in. Sleep has to fit the work, and eating? Well, there’s either too little or too much of that going on in this house.
But there are many BRIGHT and SHINY things outside the insulation of my work-haze.
Shiny thing #1:
The Trouble With Fate is coming out in the UK on the 3rd of January! Now, for you to understand how cool this is to me, consider this: my British grandmother lived with us. Kate came from a humble start. Her Dad was a house-painter, and she ended up being farmed out to service at the tender age of 13. Later, she married a handsome fishmonger called Richard. They settled for awhile near Gloucester’s docks, before they decided to uproot the family and move to Canada. I’m not sure what attracted them to my country—whether it was the idea of those acres of forests (they ended up in a third floor apartment in Montreal not too far from the docks) or the prospects of better employment (he upgraded from his fishy start to a job with a ship building company). But here’s the thing—Nanny carried her homeland in her heart to the day she died, many, many years after the death of dear Richard. And since she lived with us that meant a goodly amount of affection for all things British was transferred to her unsuspecting grandkids.
Consequently, I’m a bit of an Anglophile.
And I can tell you, Nanny would have loved seeing her granddaughter’s book in the stores.
I know I’m in love with the idea. I’m really, really hoping when I visit in November I’ll find the book among the stacks. Then I’ll make the poor bookseller take many pictures of me, pointing to the book with various proud smiles.
Shiny thing #2:
Everybody’s got a secret confession. Here’s mine—I’m a fan of historical romance. Now I’m discriminating; I don’t read just any book featuring a headless heroine and an awesome dress. I’m attracted to the smart writer. The one who puts layers into every scene and heart into every book. Eloisa James falls into that category. She is the ultimate automatic buy.
Cut to last week. I’d just taken a good look at what I needed to do to make book three something I would be proud of, and had felt such a sweep of queasiness that I had to pace the hall with a hand flattened over my stomach. And then my blackberry pinged.
Oh Goodie. A diversion.
I opened the message—it was from Eloisa James’s assistant, Kim. (THE Eloisa James???) I read it through, then found a chair and sank into it. Unbelievable. THE Eloisa James had selected my book—my first book—my debut book—for her monthly Barnes & Noble column.
Had I ever entertained such heady thoughts?
No. I had not.
Though Kim had assured me that THE Eloisa James had enjoyed my book, part of me was cautious. There is enjoyment, and there is enjoyment. As in “I quite like canapés, but am only quasi fond of the ones that come in puff-pastry.” What if she thought I was the somewhat limp puff pastry with the unidentified piece of protein?
The column went live on New Year’s Eve and that’s when the bells in this particular house started pealing. Who. The. HELL. Needs. Champagne.
THE Eloisa James liked it! She really, really liked it!
Oh, sweet joy.
You want to read what she had to say? Go here.