Victory of Tissues
Lots of things happening on the writing front. Advance read copies for The Painted Man should be going out next week to reviewers and the like. I am very psyched for that. I also broke through my writer’s funk on The Desert Spear by skipping to another section and working on a different character, to what I consider excellent results. I would have kept on, but I just received the copyedits to The Warded Man, so I’ll have to take care of those first. Hopefully I will come back to the sequel with recharged batteries.
Of course, first I need to kick this awful cold I have. I have the person who gave it to me narrowed down to one of the 40,000 people I came within coughing distance of at NY ComicCon. Luckily, at that very meeting, the head of publicity at Del Rey snagged me an advance read copy of Naomi Novik‘s new novel, Victory of Eagles. I am sitting at home reading it while clutching my box of tissues.
Temeraire is better than chicken soup.
Had another MRI today; one of a half dozen in the last couple of years. This one for a (possible) torn rotator cuff. Too many side-planks and wheels in yoga class, I guess. After spending half an hour in a buzzing metal coffin, I headed over to the Brooklyn Diner for lunch, and sat not two feet across from a booth with both Jerry Seinfeld (no, he wasn’t eating cereal) and Colin Quinn.
I was tempted to go to Colin and tell him how much I loved Remote Control while pointedly ignoring Jerry. Sadly, decorum won out and I left them in peace.
I’ve got dibs on Victory of Eagles when you’re done.
You’re gonna need to get in line behind two pregnant women.
I think trying to grab good reading material away from a pregnant woman might be as dangerous as holding a quarter up to her for proper scaling.
Possibly, but we are easily distracted by chocolate.
Danger in my middle name.
Well, crap. Spelling certainly isn’t my middle name. That’s for sure.
It seems if you can spell Godiva, you’re in good shape.
Or Lindt. Or Teuscher. Or Ghirardelli. Or Nestle. Or Cadbury. Or Hershey. Oooh, or Wonka! Or…
I think I need to go lie down.
What you need to do is have a baby. Get on with it.
Not before I buy stock in M&M / Mars!