Psst! Hey!

Wanna buy some comics?

Josh Carter will be at the NYComicon with Issue 2 of Serafim, script by yours truly, art by Josh. We’re looking at bringing out Issue 3 later this year too.

So, if you want to buy some kickass comics, Issue 1 is on sale here, and Issue 2 is on sale here. (Scroll down and hit the “Buy Now” button; you can pay through PayPal.)

Be warned–there’s violence and language in these comics. They’re not work-safe.

Enjoy!

I’m back home from Seattle. The signing went well, and Richelle has pics up on her blog. I don’t photograph well AT ALL, so I should just add that I AM roughly the size of a house in real life, despite recent weight loss, though not nearly so double-chinned. (Heh.) Mark Henry also blogged about the earth-shattering event. Richelle gave a fantastic reading, hilarious and well-accented, about pothead demons. I read the first two chapters of the upcoming first Jill Kismet novel, Night Shift. Mad props to Duane at the University Bookstore, who puts together these events and is always a darling, darling man.

Confession time, dear Readers: I am terrifyingly, mortifyingly, horrifically shy. That’s why I hide behind a laptop, yanno, and write these stories. So readings are a particular species of nerve-wracking valleys of darkness for me. (I had to grab the water bottle and hold it under the podium so the shaking of the liquid inside wouldn’t show how hard I was trembling.)

I put up a good front, having had enough experience by now in being in front of a group of people to not…well, faint. Though the roaring in my ears and the hammering of my pulse did make me shaky (and I suspect, not my usual self during the question and answer section) I don’t think I did too badly.

People are often surprised when I tell them I’m shy. I certainly don’t seem shy here on the blog, or in my books. That’s because I have the laptop as a screen–a shoji, if you will–between me and the vast masses of humanity. But at a signing, I am often seized by the terrifying thought that suddenly everyone is going to start laughing at me–and not because I’ve made a joke. I’ve evolved a series of strategies for dealing with this crippling, mind-numbing, heart-racing terror (and do NOT think I am exaggerating. If anything, I am downplaying the exact size of this irrational fear) and most of the time they work pretty well.

Then there’s times like the signing on Friday, when my mind blanks and I am frantically trying to remember who I am, what I’m doing, and what I should be doing next. I suppose it’s the writer’s version of vapor lock.

Anyway, that’s boring, and I suspect I’m laboring the point. On to interesting things. After the signing we PARTIED.

We all went to Richelle’s beautiful little condo and had a wonderful time. Kat Richardson, Mark Henry, Cherie Priest–all the Seattle greats were there. Kat and I are double trouble when we get together, and I did my standard thing at parties–I shut out the idea of a crowd by just focusing with all my might on one person and what they’re saying to me. Reflective listening skills happen to block out my shyness, and if I focus one-on-one the shyness isn’t nearly so bad. Plus there was social lubricant–aka a glass of rum lightly misted with lemonade, then some red wine–to take the edge of panic off, and I’m hoping a good time was had by all. Halfway through the party the fire department was called–by the apartment complex ACROSS THE STREET, no it was NOT MY FAULT, but you could immediately tell the writers in the room because we clustered around Richelle’s French door and watched the fire engines in search of research material.

Heh.

I was driven back to the hotel by a very nice young couple whose names I have forgotten, because I am Very Bad with that sort of thing and they were introduced while I was on my third glass of wine. The husband is a teacher, I think, and we spent some time discussing Kirkland, what it would take to start a barfight in downtown Kirkland, the male psyche, Oprah, and several other items that I can’t repeat. The wife was completely sober (a Designated Driver for the evening, bless her) and found all of us highly amusing. So: thank you, both of you.

Anyway, I stayed an extra day in Seattle just to take a wee bit of vacation, and also to recoup my strength. Which was nice–if you live in the Seattle area, the Malabar on 42nd and University serves some very fine Indian food. I eat a LOT of Indian food, and I have to say this is some of the best I’ve had. I also spent a great deal of time in Twice Sold Tales, talking to the cat and poking around in stacks of used books.

The drive home was sunny and mid-Sunday traffic was light, so I’m home safe and getting back into the swing of things. It’s sunny and cold, and I’m emotionally exhausted for reasons that have little to do with the signing. So today’s recoup. I have a few things I’d like to get done around the house, not the least of which is hoovering, but that’s going to have to wait until after lunch.

I hope your weekend was as fun but not as nervewracking, my dears. All in all, it was a good time and I’m glad I got to meet so many fans. I just wish I could find the switch inside my head to make the irrational terror go away.

Hrm. Don’t we all.

My weekly post is up at the Midnight Hour. It’s about polymorphic vampires.

Tonight I’m signing with Richelle Mead at the University Bookstore in Seattle. So excited. Half-packed and going nuts, so I’m signing off. Wish me luck and safe travel.

First thing: I will be signing at the University Bookstore, on University Way in Seattle on Friday, January 18, at 7pm. Along with the uber-fabulous Richelle Mead! There will probably be a whole contingent of urban fantasy authors in the audience, a la Mark Henry and Kat Richardson (at least, I’ve heard they’re going to be at the party) and a swell time will be had by all. (If you’re going to be there and I haven’t mentioned you, my apologies. I don’t know WHAT exactly will happen or WHO exactly will be there, always a recipe for a great party.)

I just need to get the oil changed in the car today before I drive up to Seattle on Friday morning. Jiffy Lube will hold my hand all through this process, I’m sure. They’re always amused by how frightened I am of the whole thing. “No ma’am, no car has ever exploded while we’ve done this. They don’t pay us enough to make them explode.”

But enough of that. Writing. I’m writing today.

All right. I’ve got the protagonist in the dungeon chained to the wall. He’s noble, so the cell’s clean at least, no visible rats, and the chains haven’t started to rub yet. I’ve got all sorts of fun planned for him–a visit from his parents, a visit from his wife, the sudden reversal of fortune and a devil’s bargain…

…so why, in the name of all that’s holy, am I staring at steampunk pretties like this (this is pretty much the mental image I have of Saul in the Kismet series, except without the Edwardian stuff, which defeats the whole “steampunk” thing he’s got going on but hey, it’s my fantasy life, dammit) and this (photo on the far right? the Selkie and I have agreed this is Delgado, of the Society series.)

A writer can look at things like these for a loooooooooooong time. (A girl can look for even looooooooongerrrrrrr.) I see echoes of the characters inside my head in lots of Web stuff and even on the streets. It all goes into that little well in my head, the one that I draw images from. Sometimes I wonder, like Humbert Humbert, if my casting these people/images in fantasies (that I write down instead of trying out play out in real life) harms them in some nebulous way. But then, I’m not Humbert, so I think I’m pretty safe.

I think this is the reason why the Internet is such a fabulous boon for writers. We get to look at all sorts of things that feed our Muses to the brim, and that is a wondrous thing. From the comfort of my home I can surf the Uffizi even, or the Louvre. This to me is pretty much made of awesome.

But I need that dungeon. I need to chain this character up and make him hurt, and I don’t think I’m going to be able to hurt him if I keep staring at the PRETTIES, omg the pretties.

*sigh* It’s hell, this writing life. Heh.

Hope your day has similarly pleasant frustration, my ducks.

I got back from the signing out at the Beaverton Powells. Thanks to everyone who came, including the Selkie, the High Book Weasel and Sister, and Marne, who was just as sweet as pie. Mucho thanks to Peter Honigstock too, who is an awesome events manager and is so very kind when I start getting stage fright.

So I’m exhausted, but came home to find an LJ comment in my inbox. It’s on a post I wrote back in May about artists being mean to other artists about “selling out”, with a slight discussion touching on our culture’s denigration of the creative.

An anonymous commenter (apparently) decided to respond to a post I didn’t write, and I actually laughed for seven whole minutes, until tears squirted out of my eyes. After a day of sheer lunacy (really, the weirdness factor up in this neck of the woods has been EXTRAORDINARY for the last few days) it was just the perfect capper.

I often forget, when writing my blog posts, that the Internet is such a wild and woolly and wonderful place because people will often not respond to what one has actually written. They will respond to something going on in their own heads and lives that has no relation whatsoever to what one has actually said.

This happens in real life, too. But on the Internet, for some reason, it downright amuses me more.

Then I came across this story about a Norwegian kid saved from a moose by his mad World of Warcraft skillz. Which was good for another twenty minutes of loud uncontrollable laughter, especially while reading the comments. And here’s the point where I realize I’ve played WoW, so I understood some of the slang in a way I never would have a year ago.

*satisfied sigh*

Ending a day with a good long belly laugh is always good. Sometimes I wonder why I write fiction. Maybe because if I wrote real life, nobody would believe it.

Over and out…

Hello, everyone! I’m still recovering from a deadly fever and hacking up bits of my lungs, so this will be short and informative and not much else. But it’s amazing how much better I feel. You know how you can tell you’re getting better after an illness when you start having the energy to notice how cruddy you’re feeling? Yeah. Like that.

Anyway, on to the events!

This Thursday, December 6, at 7pm, I’ll be signing at the Beaverton/Cedar Hills Crossing Powell’s. I will be reading from the second Jill Kismet book (the first Kismet book, Night Shift, is due out in July 2008) and will be signing copies of the Valentine and Watcher books. I hope to see you there! I will probably be coughing a bit, which I hope will not interfere with the reading too much. But I’m not contagious and I feel loads better, so I should be Mostly In Fine Form.

Also, on January 18, 2008, I will be signing at the University Bookstore in Seattle with the fabulous Richelle Mead. We are Wonder Twins and troublemakers, and our powers will activate…I hope Mark Henry and Kat Richardson can make it too, which would make it a Mondo Event. The world might tip off its axis with so much coolness in one place.

Many of you have asked when Steelflower will be released in print. I am happy to report that the latest date I’ve been given is January 29, 2008. Further bulletins as events warrant.

Also in late December, My Big Fat Supernatural Honeymoon will be hitting the shelves! This is an anthology, edited by the fabulous P.N. Elrod, chock-full of hot urban fantasy and paranormal romance, including a story by yours truly titled Half of Being Married.

What happens when a vampire hunter marries a werewolf–and the honeymoon gets a little too exciting? Kat and Mitchell Black have both been keeping secrets, and when their wedded bliss turns out to be full of bloodsuckers and sorcerers, things can get very interesting indeed…

I was thrilled to be asked to participate in this anthology, and again, I can’t wait to hear what Readers think.

December’s going to be a big month. Let’s hope I can stay out of the ninth circle of Hellshopping malls until at least two weeks past New Year’s. I suspect that’s safest for everyone…