I had never been to Germany before. But since the convention I was going to be a Special Guest at (Filk Continental) was in Germany, it seemed like a good time to show up.

Tom helpfully drove me to the station near the house, where I got a head shake from the station agent, who disapproved of my (admittedly expensive) "take the Heathrow Express from Paddington" plan. I pointed out that I was a clearly foreign woman with a giant suitcase, and that sometimes we pay to not take stairs. He replied that he would have made different choices with his money, and gave me my ticket. Jerk.

Ahem. The Heathrow Express proved to be a quick, pleasant way to get to the airport, and I highly recommend it. Yes, it was more expensive, but the savings in terms of both time and stress cannot be overstated, even if I did promptly get off at the wrong terminal. (This is a big deal in Heathrow, which is one of the largest airports in the world.) I found my way to the right terminal, and then the right gate, and finally the right seat on the right plane, and all was right with the world.

My flight was short and uneventful, and eventually dropped me in Hannover, where I was collected from the arrivals area by Rika and Rachel. I went to sleep in the car. Then I went to sleep on the couch at Rika's lovely apartment. Then I got up for breakfast with some lovely filkers who live in Rika's apartment complex, and whom I would see a great deal of over the weekend (yay!). They had an assortment of cheeses. YAY CHEESES. And then I went back to sleep for several hours. This would prove to be a good thing later.

The drive from Hannover to the convention, which was being held in a lovely little youth hostel near a castle, was lovely, uneventful, and long enough for me to watch two episodes of Leverage. We got there, got checked in, and I went to poke Vixy with a stick, since I had missed her dreadfully during my "out of time zone" adventures. She felt unwell. I still had my cold meds from when I'd first arrived in England. The circle of cold meds closes, and all is complete.

Sunnie and Betsy were in my room when I came back downstairs, making it our room, and the weekend had officially begun.

First up was dinner with the concom, at a local restaurant that had passed their stress test, but did not so much pass the "twenty people would like to be fed and Seanan is about to pass out from low blood sugar" test. Boo. It took about three hours to eat, and by the end of it, I was a murderbunny. I ate half of Betsy's dinner, which helped. Going to bed also helped...although it would have helped more if I'd been able to sleep. Unfamiliar place + thin walls + thin bed = Seanan begins her three-day ordeal of stumbling through life, dreaming of sensory deprivation chambers. Boo.

The next day was Friday, and kicked off the convention. We rehearsed for our various concerts, attended opening ceremonies (awesome), and opening concerts (even more awesome). I went to bed early, in hopes that I would sleep. I did not. Sigh.

Saturday was my concert, followed by Vixy and Tony's concert. Since we both used Sunnie and Betsy extensively, we were basically solid walls of sound, and everything went amazingly. The whole audience stood up and held hands during "We Are Who We Are" (Vixy and Tony's latest song, which is awesome), causing Vixy to wander around looking stunned and asking if that had really just happened. Hee.

Sunday was workshops, more concerts, and the final request concert, where Steve Macdonald and Katy Droege did "Cold Butcher" at my request, I did "Still Catch the Tide," and Vixy and Tony closed the con with a repeat performance of "We Are Who We Are." The Dead Dog that night was awesome, and I even stayed up for several hours to enjoy open filk before staggering off to bed.

The next day, Steve and I got a ride home from Syb, while Katy drove Vixy and Tony home. We all met up in Hamburg, where we had a lovely steak dinner before crashing at Steve and Katy's place. The next day, Steve got me to the airport to begin my incredibly long journey home.

But that's another story.

So from the day I arrived in Europe, when people asked for my itinerary, it included Swindon. And from the day I arrived in Europe, "I'm going to Swindon for two weeks," was greeted with "why?"

At the end of my (glorious, exciting, restful) stay in Glasgow, Stuart drove me and Amal to the train station, where she walked me through the process of getting my ticket and locating my train. This is more complicated than you might think, especially when it's happening in a country where you don't actually happen to live, and which is hence perpetually confusing. My friend Hisham had assisted me with the booking process and told me how to find my seat (also more confusing than you might think), and in short order I was squared away on the train, where I hugged Amal goodbye several times before settling down to watch Leverage for most of the duration of the six-hour trip.

(Kate's old iPad basically saved my sanity on long stretches of this voyage, I swear.)

I was about two hours in when a hand tapped my shoulder and there was Hisham, who had hopped on to ride with me for a while (he works for the trains). He brought me Coke Zero and cookies, thus cementing his position as one of my favorite humans. He also brought me Pokemon, and we passed a pleasant hour or so trading electronic monsters and chatting about all manner of things. It was awesome, and I enjoyed it a lot. I like friends on trains. It makes the time go faster.

Alas, eventually he had to leave me, and I finished the rest of my journey in electronic silence, pulling into the stop at Bristol Parkway about five and a half hours after I left Glasgow. Talis was waiting for me there, wearing a splendid scarf printed with bees. After hugs and happy exclamations, she helped me transfer my suitcase to my second and final train, and we rode on to Swindon, where we caught a cab to my true destination: the village of Wroughton.

Wroughton is close enough to Swindon that it was easier to say I was going there, but in reality, it's a lovely little village where everything is within walking distance (except for the big new Waitrose), and where everyone knows Talis, who has been getting more and more active in local politics over the years. I was staying in her upstairs guest bedroom, on a narrow bed that looked like an ascetic's cot and felt like the clouds of heaven. Her husband, Simon, was in France when I arrived, meaning it was just me, Talis, and their lovely daughter, Pippa, who I hadn't spent any real time with since she was a toddler.

Even the highlights of my time in Wroughton seem so big and complex that they're hard to wrap my mind around. I went to country market. I performed with Talis at the Greener Gloucester Festival. I went to two folk clubs with Talis and her singing partner, Chantelle. I ate a lot of Victoria sponge, and drank a lot of rose lemonade. I made chicken stock and then chicken soup, which was delicious. I went to Cheddar, and saw cheese being born. I stroked the two resident black and white magpie boycats.

I chased and caught so many frogs and toads, and ate eggs I had pulled from under chickens, and harvested raspberries and blackberries from the vine into my mouth, and it was wonderful. It was restorative and peaceful and glorious and perfect, and I am so grateful. So, so grateful.

I love my friends. I love my life. And I loved the frogs.

I'm going back next year.

When last we left our intrepid heroine (me), I was on a plane to Scotland, to visit Amal and Stuart for a week. Basically exactly a week, which was simultaneously a long, long time to go stay with someone I had never stayed with before, and nowhere near long enough to stay with a dear friend in a city I had never visited.

My flight was smooth and uneventful, and landed in Glasgow a little early, which was good, since it had been marred by navigation issues which caused the cabin crew to say "all electronics must be off, yes, even your Pokemon machine, yes, even your iPod." It was a sad, sad situation for a Seanan. When I landed, it became even sadder, as my phone had run out of minutes while I was in Ireland, and I thus could not call Amal to let her know I was there. I mooched back and forth in the airport for a while, sadly, until she materialized, all smiles and hugs and help with my luggage, and got me out of there.

When we arrived at the apartment, everything smelled like home. There was a chicken roasting in the oven and a pot of stock simmering on the stove, and I promptly decided that this was the best of all possible worlds. I was set up in the guest room, added to the wireless, and introduced to the two fabulous resident magpie cats. Amal quickly discovered that she could thrust things at me, and that I would then read them. This became a popular party game over the next few days.

Oh, the places we went! Oh, the things that we did! We visited the two biggest cheese shops in Glasgow, and assembled two glorious cheeseboards, including Bonnet (goat), Isle of Mull Cheddar (yellow), VJ Cabrales (DEATH BLUE), Old Lochnagar (cheddar-ish), and Dunsyre Blue, all from I. J. Mellis, and Isle of Mull Cheddar (white), Killeen (goat-gouda), Basajo (white-wine blue with grapes!), and Coulommiers (Brie), all from George Mewes. There was not a bad bit of cheese in the bunch.

I must, however, take a moment to focus on the Cabrales. This cheese was given in response to my request for an aggressive blue. "Aggressive" does not begin to cover it. This cheese was the Ghost Rider of cheeses, judging your sins and refusing to forgive them. It was so strong it was physically painful to eat more than a sliver at a time. I am in love. I want twenty pounds of it.

Amal and I walked Glasgow, enjoyed cake at Once Upon A Tart, and bought heather gems. She saw me have my first Victoria tart and my first rose lemonade, both of which engendered bliss face. We watched Doctor Who and made plans for the future and chatted about anything and everything, and it was lovely. I cooked her and Stuart goat. I snuggled their cats.

On Friday, we drove two and a half hours to Amal and I could hike off into the fields of Carterha and touch Tam Lin's well. This will be a post all of its own, and soon.

On Saturday, we went to the Scottish Owl Centre, which was perfect and sublime and like nothing I had ever done before. I want to go back.

Sunday we shopped, rested, ate, and made our farewells, and Monday morning, I got on a train bound for Swindon. It was nowhere near long enough. It was the perfect length of time. Scotland was beautiful, and its people even more so.

I want to go back.

I am delighted to announce that The Winter Long debuted on the New York Times Bestseller List in position #12, a new high for this series (and for me as a whole). With every book, we inch a little closer to the top ten, and I couldn't be more delighted.

I was very nervous about this book. This was the one where everything changed, where I started pulling strings and showing why certain things never quite seemed to line up. If this series were an episode of Leverage, this book would have been the moment in act three where the con turned and everything suddenly fell into place. Which means, being me, that I have been consumed with terror over the idea that people would think I had somehow cheated.

(It is exhausting, living inside my head. I do not recommend it.)

It has been an honor and a privilege to bring you all with me this far into October's world. All the pieces are in place for the beginning of act two, and I sincerely hope that you will stay with me for as long as it takes to see where the road leads us from here.

Thank you all, so very much.

I can't wait to see what happens next.

It is with the utmost delight and no small amount of profound relief that I announce that the next three October Daye adventures have been acquired by DAW Books. That takes us all the way to thirteen, a benchmark I dreamt of but never thought I'd really reach.

The next three books are:

The Brightest Fell
Night and Silence
When Sorrows Come

(For the curious, the titles this time are from "Macbeth," "A Midsummer Night's Dream," and "Hamlet.")

I am...I am over the moon. This gets us through some really major story beats that I've been really looking forward to, and moves us toward the conclusion of as "act two" of the whole series (act one officially concluded with The Winter Long). There are two more books to come before I start on this new set, A Red-Rose Chain and Once Broken Faith, and having the security of knowing the story will go on is just incredible.

Thank you, DAW, for having faith in me.

And thank you all, for reading.

(Comment amnesty is ON, ye gods and little fishes.)

All my life, I've known that my mother's people were from Ireland, but apart from one very short stop during a visit to England several years ago, I had never been. The country that shaped my grandparents was a mystery to me. Part of why I was so pleased to be invited to be a Guest of Honor at Shamrokon was the opportunity to see Ireland, and because of that, when James (one of the con chairs) asked if I wanted to stay in Dublin for a week and see a bit of the country, I leapt at the opportunity.

The Monday after the con, I saw Amy off and went to the Porterhouse Central with Wes and Mary for the Dead Dog. We quickly ditched out of there and went first to the bookstore, then to grab a quick bite at The Farm (a local food restaurant) before heading back in. I got to see Charlie, Bill and Brenda, Merav, Terry, and Jon, and a bunch of lovely locals (including one very excited boy who came over to talk Skullduggery Pleasant with me, at length) before James scooped me up for the drive to his home in Drogheda (a small town about forty-five minutes outside the city).

I stayed awake the whole way home, but only barely, and collapsed into bed as soon as we'd finished supper. The next morning, he took me to the grocer's for provisions, and we spent most of the day recovering from the con. Come Wednesday morning, the rest was over. He went to pick up his second houseguest, a very nice woman from Chicago named Leanne, and we basically went straight from unloading her bags to the tombs at Newgrange and Knowth.

Newgrange and Knowth are heritage sites, places where passage tombs still stand. Walking around and into them was like walking into history. Here were these mounds, these great gobs of earth and stone, that were there long before America existed; long before the Christians came to Ireland. We went into the passage tomb at Newgrange, and it was so quiet and still, even full of tourists, that it was more than a little sobering. I wasn't sure how exactly to feel about it. I'm still not. Absolutely gorgeous, and I'm so glad I went.

There were blackberries on the way to the tombs, and sheep in the roads. It was glorious.

Thursday we lounged about. Friday we went into Dublin so I could get souvenirs for my mother, and while we were there, we met up with Brian and Shevy and went to the Leprechaun Museum.

Yes, you read that correctly.

It was a really lovely little museum, with some very engaging storytellers who were happy to enlighten us about the sidhe. Also, there was giant furniture I could climb on, and I appreciated that.

Saturday was Doctor Who and laundry and mailing things and bidding Leanne farewell, as she was leaving early the next day. Sunday was packing and figuring out what needed to happen before I could head for my next stop: Glasgow.

Monday morning, James and I both got up early, and he drove me to the airport before heading to work. I wound up in the longest airline line I've ever been in (hooray for always being two hours early), and then it was off to Scotland. Yay, Scotland!

It was a good trip. I'm glad I went, and would like to go back sometime with friends, so that we can explore all the wonders the country has to offer.

Next up, GLASGOW.

Amy and I left France on Thursday morning, following a ride in a cab operated by a surly but talented driver (we didn't die!), and some exciting airport escapades that I have already detailed in the "Paris" post. Our flight, operated by Aer Lingus, was short and pleasant, although I had never encountered "pay for your soft drinks" on a plane before (I prey Southwest never starts doing that). We landed in Dublin a little early, and made it to the car park with the assistance of a very nice local wheelchair operator. (Airport wheelchair services, for those who've not used them, generally consist of young, athletic people who are willing to push people who need it from one terminal to another. We tipped well, and everything was lovely.)

Gareth from Shamrokon met us at baggage claim, and loaded us into his car for the first of our odd transits. See, Sheila—my editor—and Betsy—my publisher—had both come to Dublin, and Thursday night was the only night that was really good for us to have dinner together. So Amy and I needed to be dropped off at the restaurant, while he took our luggage on to the hotel. Good thing he's a good sport! We wound up in a Michelin-starred French restaurant attached to their hotel, where we spent four and a half hours eating, drinking, talking, and enjoying cheese. So much cheese. It was a really divine dinner, and I completely understand why people make such a big deal about the place.

So much cheese.

Friday kicked off the convention. I had a panel with Tim Griffin and Jordan Kare, during which we talked about filk and how to be comfortable in the filk community; Kathy Mar attended, as did Teddy and Tom, and we had a lovely time making them do the heavy lifting for us. After that was opening ceremonies, and then, concert prep!

Yes, we did a concert, largely due to the tireless efforts and incredible talents of Dr. Mary Crowell, who herded all the cats so that I could look good. She is amazing. My band consisted of her, Amy McNally, and the Suttons, and everyone was splendid. We did basically the same set as Loncon, which was fine, because there wasn't that much audience overlap between the two cons, and it was really lovely. Brenda sang my part on "Wicked Girls," while I sang Vixy's, and a good time was had by all.

The next item was "In Conversation With Seanan McGuire," the solo version of the panel I like to do with Cat, where I will answer everything I am asked. We ran about ninety minutes over, and it was beautiful. Some very serious topics were discussed, like depression and OCD and the difficulty of talking about feeling suicidal. (One well-meaning man asked "Well, have you tried being sad without hurting yourself?", and while I hate the question, it opened the door for some very good discussion.) It was uncomfortable but important, and no one left the room, so I'm calling it a win.

Saturday, I had my Guest of Honor interview, with Janet as my interviewer, who had smartly brought Kinder Eggs. Every time she felt I'd answered a question sufficiently, I got chocolate. A+ interviewing technique, would be interviewed again. My panel on pseudonyms went well, and ended early enough that Amy and I were able to go out and grab dinner before the Doctor Who season premiere at eight, or the filk jam at nine.

I did not stay up to close out the jam. I am weak.

Sunday, I signed stuff; talked about zombies with great enthusiasm; and talked about toys with equally great enthusiasm. Then we closed the con, and I darted off with Amy and Wes to join the fabulous dinner already beginning at the Winding Stair, where the food was traditional and delicious.

Monday was the off-site Dead Dog at the Porterhouse downtown, and Wes and Mary and I had a lovely time, after bidding our beloved friends adieu. We swung by the nearby bookstore, which had my picture in the window, and bought books, before handing me off to the con chair, James, to go back to his place for a week's Irish tourism.

On the whole, Shamrokon was absolutely lovely. A good con, well-run, by extremely friendly people. Would guest again.

Next up, IRELAND.

It's no secret that I love Disney Parks more than is strictly normal. While my friends start saying "maybe we could vacation somewhere, you know, else," I am still going "HAUNTED MANSION WOO HAUNTED MANSION LET'S GO." So when I had the opportunity to go to Paris, it was pretty inevitable that I would actually be going to Disneyland Paris (still often referred to as "EuroDisney" by people who haven't gone alone with the name change).

Problem the first: the cost of the Disneyland hotels was so high that it seriously made more sense to go in on a very nice, very expensive apartment on Rue Rambuteau, which is like saying "it cost so much to get a manicure that I decided to buy a new car." These things should not even be in the same discussion. But they were, and so we decided to stay with our friends and have some wonderful non-Disney experiences to go with the wonderful Disney experiences that we were already guaranteed.

Problem the second: we didn't actually know how many days we wanted to spend at Disneyland Paris. I mean, there's the quick and easy "all of them," but that didn't really address the fact that we had no idea how my foot was going to have held up during Loncon (surprisingly well, as it turns out), or how much walking we'd have to do to get to the Parks (annoyingly large amounts), or even how much there'd be to do inside the Parks, which are more spread out and still slightly sparser in some ways than their California equivalents. In the end, we decided to buy our tickets when we got there, since that would give us more flexibility.

Monday, we went down and wandered around Disney Village, and I started my multi-day campaign to collect all the pins I'd never had the opportunity for before.

Tuesday dawned bright and (relatively) early, considering that we were all sort of sleeping with no concept of time or how long things would take. Vixy, Amy, and I departed for the train station, and were basically the annoying giggly tourists all the way there, since "We're going to DISNEYLAND!" was continually appropriate.

Upon arriving, we joined the first mighty queue we found: the bag check. This took a dauntingly long time, and was followed by an even mightier queue, where we bought tickets. All three of us got Park-hopper tickets, two-day for me and Vix, one-day for Amy. I was already almost out of steps by the time we got through the gates and entered Disneyland Paris, so Vixy and Amy parked me on a bench while they went and got me a wheelchair.

This is where I say "we fell prey to thinking that because it was a Disney Park, it would be like all the other Disney Parks, and nothing could possibly go wrong." I had looked at the website previously, trying to figure out what we needed to do in order to have me in a chair without a problem, and had not realized that we would be banned from the main queues of even rides where I could physically go through the queue in a wheelchair. Instead, we would have to use the back entrances for everything, and would need to have an Access Pass. Why would this be a problem? Because at Disneyland Paris, unlike at Disneyland California, you need a doctor's note to get an Access Pass. Even if you clearly cannot walk. So...

Amy and Vixy returned with a wheelchair, and we proceeded into the Park. Being long-time Disney Park people, we immediately beelined for the Phantom Manor (the local equivalent of the Haunted Mansion), using the Frontierland signs as our landmarks. I admit, I teared up when I saw the Manor for the first time.

The queue area involved stairs. Amy followed the wheelchair signs to the back entrance, where we learned about the Access Cards for the first time. Oh, we said, and made our way back to City Hall...which is where we discovered that we were supposed to have a doctor's note. Which was a problem, since a) we didn't have one, b) my doctor was in California, c) we were in Paris, and d) my doctor was not going to get up at local 3am to fax over a note saying "her foot is messed up, she cannot walk." Vixy, as our main French speaker, tried to explain that we hadn't known before we got there and was there anything we could do. Amy looked distressed. I tried not to cry, while wishing I could sink into the floor. I hate this, I hate it, I hate having to do research on lifts and where I need a doctor's note and not knowing, day to day, whether I'm going to be able to walk. And sitting there not knowing what was being said, just that it was being said about me, made me want to die.

I can say "it was all my fault, I didn't dig deep enough into the website," and that is true. I can also say "spending a day confined to a wheelchair for the privilage of using the back entrances, not seeing the queue areas, not getting on the ride any faster, and being sneered at for taking up space, is not fun; it is not something I do for shits and giggles," and that is also true.

Eventually, Vixy was able to get across that my injury was temporary, rather than being a permanent disability which was why we didn't have a placard or anything. The very nice man in City Hall basically went "Americans" and gave us an Access Card that was good for me and one other person to use the back entrance (again, not priority access: we had to wait for the length of the line before we could get on the rides, which was totally fine by us).

We returned to the Phantom Manor, where Vixy went through the line while Amy and I waited in the back. Multiple people checked my Access Card to see if it was legit, which...we were not getting priority access. We were not "cutting" or getting a special magical show. We were, instead, fighting across cobblestones in a manual wheelchair, having people run into us, and basically being treated like we didn't deserve Disney because I had the audacity to be in an assistance vehicle. I was miserable. I was sitting in the Phantom Manor, feeling like a cheat and a fraud and a liar, because everyone was treating me like one. The Cast Members I usually count on to be on my side were acting like we were trying to pull something over on them.

I have never felt more like a burden to my friends and loved ones.

But the line moved, and we got on the Phantom Manor, and Vincent Price laughed for me, and I gradually reclaimed my Disney spirit. It was not easy. It hurt, and that was new and strange and awful. But I did it. Amy and Vixy and I proceeded to a BBQ place, where we ate lunch, and then enjoyed the Park.

Alice's Curious Labyrinth! Space Mountain Mission 2! The Nautilus! The Tower of Terror (across the way in Disney Studios)! The new Ratatouille ride, which used the trackless 3-D ride format from Mystic Manor, and was splendid! And so so so so so so so so so so so so so many pins. Oh, the pins. AN INFINITY OF PINS. I traded constantly, and got glorious pins from cast members, and it was wonderful.

Space Mountain Mission 2 was jerky and weird, but it was a coaster Amy had never been on, and we loved it so. We hit the Ratatouille ride just before closing, and the Cast Member on the door kindly let us ride together, even though I still had to use the wheelchair entrance. Dinner was at a little cafe on Main Street, and included the best ham and cheese sandwich I have ever had. We returned home tired but okay.

The next day it was just me and Vixy. We had already decided that our main objective would be a) pins and b) trying to eat lunch at Cinderella's Enchanted Table, so Vixy could meet the mice (Suzie and Perla). I decided not to get a wheelchair. It just wasn't worth it, and I knew I could turn back at any time; we didn't need to close out the Park.

It was my first day on foot in a Disney Park in more than two years.

To say that I was nervous would be an understatement; so would to say that I was overjoyed. I could climb stairs (slowly). I could step up curbs (also slowly). I could do anything I fucking wanted and it was magical and I only cried a little from the pain. I really am getting better. (Note that this would not have been possible had I not been in a wheelchair for the whole previous day.)

Vixy and I started by going to see the dragon that sleeps beneath the castle. It was a glorious piece of animatronics, and leaving put us right near Cinderella's Enchanted Table, where lo and behold, they had just started service, and we were able to get a table. She was ecstatic. I was amused. We spent two and a half hours eating a very slow lunch, ending with flaming ice cream balls, and she got her picture with the mice. She then declared that it was ANYTHING YOU WANT O'CLOCK, since I hadn't stabbed her with a fork during the very slow dining experience. Yay!

I elected for Pirates. Their queue led through a smuggler's tunnel into Tortuga, and it was a glorious piece of ride design (the ride itself was pretty awesome, too). From there, we went to Indiana Jones (totally different from the California ride; this is a single-track roller coaster with a full inversion), Phantom Manor, and then out, marking a day with very few rides, but with a lot of pins. So many pins.

On the whole, Disneyland Paris was gorgeous, and I wish I had been able to take more time to really drink it all in. But I couldn't have done any more time than I did on foot, and being there in a wheelchair was so unpleasant and dehumanizing that I don't think I could have loved the Park if I had spent any more of my time in an assistance vehicle.

Glad I went; may go back someday; will not go back until I am absolutely sure I can spend the whole trip on foot.

Next up, Ireland, and Eurocon!

When I realized that I was going to be staying in Europe between Loncon and Eurocon (I mean, I'm staying much longer than that, as witness the fact that I am writing this entry from a kitchen table in Ireland, but that realization came later), I immediately turned to Vixy and went, "Let's go to DISNEYLAND!"

Yessssssssss.

Brooke, who is a genius of travel planning, used Air B&B to find us a glorious Parisian apartment with four bedrooms, disturbing murder art on the walls, a full kitchen, a hot tub, sauna, and steam room, and wifi, all on the ground floor, which meant I had zero obligate stairs. It was perfect. Vixy and I checked in first, on Sunday, to be followed by the rest of our party (Brooke, Amy, and the Crowells) on Monday.

Sunday was the Eurostar, followed by checking in, a wander around our temporary neighborhood, and dinner at an outdoor cafe, where I had a ham and mushroom pizza that had been very generously outfitted with ham. We showered in The Serious Shower, which I think I will dream about for the rest of my life, and planned our adventures to come. I misidentified the train station we'd need to get to Disneyland Paris. This will be important later.

Monday, we decided to take the train to Disneyland Paris and wander around the Disney Village (their equivalent of Downtown Disney) for a few hours, just to get the lay of the land. We were not going to go into Disneyland that day, and indeed, we didn't. Instead, we walked roughly a mile in the wrong direction in our attempts to find the right train station, and when we arrived, we visited all the shops. I traded pins with a bunch of cast members, who viewed my single-minded approach with amusement and bewilderment. Vixy bought things. I did not. A good time was had by all.

When we got home, our housemates were there, and we gloried in the hot tub and not being at a convention. We spend so much of our time traveling to and from cons that sometimes it's nice to just be together, without a program grid dictating what we do and when we do it. Amy was delighted that we had refrained from going into Disneyland Paris without her, meaning that her first time on the Phantom Manor would also be my first time on the Phantom Manor.

Eventually, we slept.

In preparing for this entry, I had time to give a lot of thought to the essential question of whether I wanted to do one big Paris post, or one Paris post and one Disneyland Paris post. The latter won. So here are the Paris pieces:

Tuesday, Amy, Vixy, and I went back to Disneyland Paris, following what I thought was the correct route. It was sort of very wrong, and while we got there just fine, we had a bit of a "tired people navigating places" tiff on the return journey, ending when Amy brilliantly hailed a cab.

Wednesday, Amy went off to see Paris, while Vixy and I finally went to the train station the right way, which was much, much shorter. We also returned home earlier, content and perfectly tired. Vixy and Amy went out with Brooke and the Crowells to have Fancy French Dinner; I stayed home with Simon, the Crowells' teenage son, and had Leftovers and The Internet. Everyone was happy.

Thursday, Vixy, Brooke, and the Crowells went out to a museum, while Amy and I went to the airport. The ladies at the Aer Lingus counter were pleasant, but recommended we call a wheelchair, given the size of the airport. We called a wheelchair. We waited.

And waited.

And waited.

After half an hour, we walked to our gate, since otherwise, we might have missed our flight. We were off and running for Ireland, and our French adventure was finally complete.

When last we left our intrepid heroes, they were arriving at the Aloft, hence to set up base camp for the convention. Hooray! Only...not so much hooray, as my bank had turned my credit card off for fraud after seeing it used at Heathrow Airport and our initial hotel. In England. Where I had told them I would be.

I called the bank and had a borderline hostile conversation, ending when they turned my card back on and I was able to check us into the hotel. Wes and I then went to pick up the wheelchair Amy had booked for me. (My walking difficulties are continuing to improve, but "improving" doesn't mean the same as "better," and we very much wanted to be sure that I would be able to walk both in Paris and at Eurocon the following week.) It turned out that, despite us having put the booking in ultra-early, there were no independent mobility (IE, "big round wheels") chairs left, and I was put into a hospital-style chair that required someone to push me. Not so awesome.

We got me checked in and were off to my first panel, on pseudonyms. While I was there, Wes took the hospital chair back to the mobility desk and got me upgraded to a mobility scooter, on account of I did not have the independent movement I had been promised and no one wanted to have to help me get to the bathrooms. Everybody wins! (Vixy and I did not have a fully handicapped-accessible room, but had decided that parking the scooter in the shower was better than, again, no independence at all.) The panel went well, and we borked off for supper with a lot of my favorite people—Mary and Simon, Talis and Pippa, Brooke and Amy and Vixy and Wes—at the Indian restaurant at the end of the walk. We ran into Wesley Chu on the way back, and a good time was had by all.

That night was I'm Sorry, I Haven't A Clue, hosted by Lee Harris, and we had a splendid time. It was me and Cat "vs." Paul and Emma, and everyone acquitted themselves handsomely. I was still struggling with the tail end of my cold, and so made plans to tap out if necessary (Heath was ready to be our stunt Seanan), but I was able to get through the whole session, and only coughed so hard I stopped breathing once. Meg was seated in the front row, and was able to interpret my pantomime and get me my cough syrup. Life was very good indeed.

Friday passed in a blur. For my reading, I did half of "We Are All Misfit Toys in the Aftermath of the Velveteen War," and followed it up with an impromptu hallway signing that lasted no shit half an hour, courtesy of my not having an actual signing. (This was not the fault of the convention; I was the one who mis-booked the train tickets.) The queue was remarkably orderly, and crowned by Hisham walking over and offering me Pokemon. I LOVE YOU HISHAM. Pokemon: the way to my heart.

Saturday's panel on girl scientists was excellent, and I basically used Amanda as my guide. "Does this piss Amanda off?" I would ask myself, and then ask the question.

My concert was splendid and the filk track organizers were brilliant when they forced me to accept the big room (I had said I would be perfectly happy with the normal filk concert space). It held three hundred people, and we near to filled it. Dead Sexy was wonderful, as always. (Dead Sexy is the version of my backing band consisting of Bill and Brenda Sutton, Amy McNally, Dr. Mary Crowell, and Michelle Dockrey.) We scrapped "What A Woman's For" at the last minute, due to concerns about my voice and our arrangement, and dropped in "Still Catch the Tide," because it's something we can do without lyric sheets or practice. Talis was in the audience.

She'd never heard us do it live before.

I made Talis cry.

It was a good night, overall, and I am very glad to have been there.

I stayed on Sunday, just long enough for my panel on fan works, and then it was off to the rail station to catch the Eurostar to Paris. Vixy and I "watched" the Hugos over Twitter from our Parisian apartment (the wireless wasn't good enough to stream), and while I was sorry not to be there, Sunil was so happy to be me that I was honestly glad to have mis-booked the train: he glows in all the pictures I've seen, and I am always happy when I can give good experiences to my friends.

Congratulations to all the winners, solidarity to all the losers (of whom I am one), and I'll see you all next year.

Next up: DISNEYLAND.

I am delighted to announce that my story, "Long Way Down," will be appearing in the anthology Genius Loci, along with a bunch of truly awesome authors and some really good friends.

This is a book of stories about place and connection to place. My story is about the creek I used to play in which I was a little girl, both as it really was, and as I always secretly believed that it could be. I'm really excited for you all to see it. But that's not the best part of this anthology for me.

Look at that table of contents. Look at all those new names, sandwiched between names you maybe know already. Look at the name "Sunil Patel." Look at the name "Caroline Ratajski." That's Sunil and Carrie, you guys. That's my Comic-Con roommate and my comic book slumber party buddy. Those are my friends, sharing an anthology with me, sharing a table of contents with me, and with Ken, and with Chaz, and with everybody.

Carrie and Sunil are great people. They're warm, generous, friendly, and have made me a better person by being a part of my life. And now I get to share a book with them.

How awesome is my life sometimes? I mean really, how awesome is my life?

Pretty awesome.

I am very pleased to announce that I will have a story in Operation Arcana, edited by John Joseph Adams, coming from Baen in 2015. I will be appearing alongside my beloved Tanya Huff, Carrie Vaughn, and Jonathan Maberry, as well as many more.

My story, "In Skeleton Leaves," is one that I'm really pleased with and proud of, and I can't wait for you to read it.

Yay, anthologies!

Today is Thomas's fourth birthday. We have celebrated with treats and petting and much indulgence, all of which he has accepted as his absolute due. He doesn't really know what "happy birthday" means, but as it comes with good things, he really doesn't care.

He's enormous now. He has vast, spatulate paws that can work a doorknob, and a high, chirpy voice, like he's gargling songbirds. He likes to be held while I'm at the computer, just so he can prove that he is more important than the tappy box. He enjoys watching videos of birds, and will sometimes sing to them, because he is a bird too. He is my best boy, and I can't imagine life without him.

Happy birthday, Thomas.

We're gonna enjoy a whole lot more.

So a press release just went up on the Orbit Books website. Here's the link, if you're curious. Go ahead and read it. I'll wait here.

Done reading yet?

YES OH MY GOD YES NOW I CAN FINALLY ANNOUNCE IT YES!!!!! Mira Grant (IE, "me") is returning to Orbit for three more beautiful books. The third Parasitology book (title to be determined), a standalone book (one of three concepts, to be decided when I actually hit the point of needing to write it), and Rewind, a fourth book set in the world of Newsflesh.

Yes. We're going back to the Rising.

There will also be four new novellas set in the Newsflesh world; the first of them, "The Day the Dead Came to Show and Tell," will be out this summer.

Before people start asking, no, Rewind will not be a story about the Masons: they are done. But it will cover the same time period as Feed, and will provide a long-needed view of the Democratic side of the presidential race. What really happened to Susan Kilburn and Frances Blackburn, the two most promising candidates put up by the Democrats? What happened to their teams? All is finally going to be made clear, and man, is it going to be one hell of a ride.

To quote myself from the press release, "I am overjoyed to be able to continue to write in the Parasite universe, and more, I am so, so excited to return to the world of Kellis-Amberlee, the Rising, and my unique approach to future journalism. I hope that everyone else will be as excited as I am to go back there, and I promise I have some thrilling surprises in store for you. As for that stand-alone third novel, well...You'll have to wait and see what that's going to be about. I can tell you one thing for sure: it's going to be an adventure."

I love adventures.

I have mailed ALL THE POSTERS! (I am in the process of mailing ALL THE THINGS, but that's taking more than one trip to the post office.) Any and all "Wicked Girls" posters which have been bought and paid for have been mailed and received, and I still have poster tubes! So:

Behold the poster thumbnail!



You can't really read the text at this size, but it's the full lyrics of "Wicked Girls Saving Ourselves." You can tell that the posters are absolutely gorgeous, thanks to the ever-wonderful graphic skills of Tara O'Shea. They're 10" by 26", and I couldn't be happier with them.

The posters have a limited run of 500, which sounds like a lot, and yet is shrinking at a truly impressive rate. They aren't programmed into the ordering system on my website, and that's a good thing, since it gives me flow control and allows me to refuse orders when I'm not up for mailing. If you wanted to order a poster, here's what to do:

1) Send me an email via my website contact form, telling me how many posters you want, of which kind(s). Standard posters are $20, plus $5 for shipping and handling within the United States ($13 shipping and handling internationally, for which I apologize, but the costs are obscene).

2) I can fit up to three posters in a tube, going to the same place. So three to one location is cost of posters + $5/$13, while three going to three locations would be cost of posters + $15/$39.

3) I will email you to confirm the request, get your address, and provide my PayPal information. I can only take personal PayPal (no credit cards), although we can discuss payment by check.

The posters are printed on sturdy, acid-free, recycled paper, and again, gorgeous. They also frame really, really nicely, as my living room wall can attest. I'm not currently planning to reprint this design; when they're gone, they're gone, and will be replaced by something else (probably a poster based on either "Follow Me Down" or "Stars Fall Home," depending on whether I can find someone who does a graphic design I like).

Yay for pretty things!

(I realized I hadn't actually said this here yet. Or anywhere. Bad me. So...)

I love mermaids.

I have always loved mermaids. My one point of contention with Ariel was always that I couldn't understand how someone who came from her undersea world could yearn so much for gravity and oxygen and all the rest. If someone offered me a role in a mermaid AU of my life, I would take it in a heartbeat, is what I'm saying here.

Naturally, this has translated to a lot of mermaids in my work. Dianda, in Toby; the finfolk, in InCryptid. Mermaids everywhere, mermaids for everybody. But a lot of people assumed that Mira Grant would never have the opportunity to write about mermaids, which are more of a fantasy staple, after all.

Oh ye of little faith.

I am delighted to announce that my/Mira's first original Subterranean Press novella, "Rolling in the Deep," will be released next April. It's about mermaids. It's about science. It's about reality television. But mostly the mermaids thing.

As with all SubT books, it will be a limited edition, so I recommend saving your pennies now for its terrible, inevitable reality.

I am so excited.

I love comics.

I have loved comics since I was very small, paging through the issues that belonged to older friends of the family (IE, the teenage and pre-teen children of my mother's friends). I was always brutally careful, and fully aware that failure to take care would result in losing my comic privileges. I essentially grew up at Flying Colors, my local comic book store. The owner, Joe, has seen me go from skinny little girl to adult woman in one-week increments, framed by trips to the quarter box and the graphic novel shelves. The idea that comics weren't for girls never occurred to me, and he's part of the reason why. I wish everyone had a local comic guy like Joe Field.

I want to write for comics. That, too, has been true since I was very small. When I first started working with my agent, Diana Fox, she asked me what I wanted out of my career. She was probably expecting "a million dollars" or something else improbable. What she got was "I want to write the X-Men." So yeah, I've been trying to find a way to start writing for comics for a while now.

I found it.

I am proud, thrilled, and terrified to announce that I have signed on with Thrillbent.com to script a new ongoing series titled The Best Thing. We don't have an artist or a release date yet, but I am so, so excited about this concept and this world, and I am going to smash things so hard. The Best Thing is to magical girl titles as Velveteen vs. is to superhero teams, and I am really hoping it lives up to its name.

I'm gonna write a comic book.

It's gonna be the best thing.

One week from today, Sparrow Hill Road will be on bookstore shelves everywhere, and you will finally be able to learn the tale of Rose Marshall as she always intended it to be told.

According to my file dates, "Pretty Little Dead Girl," the song that introduced most people to Rose, was written on December 17th, 2004. The first story appeared in The Edge of Propinquity in January of 2010. Six years to get from song to story, and that wasn't the end of it. Those original stories have been rewritten and revised and ripped up and ripped away until their bones showed through, and now, on May 6th, 2014, you finally get to see the actual shape of things. It only took a little under ten years.

According to Publishers Weekly, which got a few of the facts of Rose's complicated origin wrong, but got the feeling right...

"McGuire (the InCryptid series) brings empathy, complexity, and a shivering excitement to this well-developed campfire tale. Many stories have been told about a hitchhiker, a young woman—sometimes dressed in a prom dress or jeans and a T-shirt—who roams the highways in search of a ride. Rose Marshall is that hitcher, also known as the Ghost of Sparrow Hill Road. Rose has two purposes: one is helping the newly dead make the transition between states, and the other is hunting down Bobby Cross, the man who killed her in order to gain immortality. This is the story of her death, and her life. This mesmerizing tale had its beginnings in the short story The Edge of Propinquity; McGuire has smoothly turned it into a powerful blend of ghost story, love story, and murder mystery, wrapped in a perfectly neat package."

One week.

Rose is finally almost home.

Psst. C'mere.

So it's no secret that I love the covers DAW gives me, and that showing them off is one of my true pure joys in life. Chris McGrath has been designing Toby covers for eight books now, and he's amazing. Like, seriously amazing. Want proof?

Go ahead. Take a peek.

( Cut-tagged for the protection of your friends' list, which really doesn't need something this huge suddenly showing up without warning. But trust me, you should totally click.Collapse )

...it turns out Alex Price is just as popular as his sister!

I am delighted to announce that Half-Off Ragnarok debuted on the New York Times Bestseller List in position #18, a new high for this series. With every book, we inch a little closer to the top ten, and I couldn't be more delighted.

I was very nervous about this book. I announced from the start that InCryptid was going to be a family affair, but it's still hard to switch protagonists, especially when people seem to enjoy the one you already have. I did see some early rumbles from people who were sure that the books wouldn't be any good at all without Verity there to anchor them, and I have been incredibly relieved and delighted to see my readers embrace Alex with open arms.

I love all the members of the Price family, and more, I love the way I can use them to show different things about one another. Verity doesn't see how much her dance career hurts Antimony, who has never been allowed to pursue anything she really loved in the same way, and Antimony doesn't see how much Verity works and sacrifices for the things that seem to come to her so easily. Having both of them onscreen lets me explore both sides of the story. It's wonderful.

Alex has one more book to go, next year's Pocket Apocalypse, and I hope you'll like it just as much as you did this one. Thank you all so, so much.

It's been a lot of fun so far.

I am pleased to announce that my first non-fiction book, consisting of essays taken from my various blogs and poetry from my two self-published chapbooks (Leaves From the Babylon Wood and Pathways Through the Babylon Wood, both of which are loooooooooong out of print) is available now from NESFA Press.

Click here for information on Letters to the Pumpkin King.

With introductions by Catherynne Valente and Elizabeth Bear, and an absolutely gorgeous cover by David Palumbo (I covet this artwork), I could not be more pleased. It's a hardcover, so the price point is high for what is essentially my blog in paper form, but you can use that paper form to kill spiders, which is pretty damn cool.

Here is what some people say. All of them are biased toward liking me, so:

"This book is bursting with Seanan-brain. You should read it." —Jim C. Hines, author of Libriomancer.

"Seanan McGuire knows how to beguile with the very best. She can whisper spells and secrets by the ballad and the bushel. But here she simply tells it as she has seen and lived it, with bravery and a loud voice, and that is magic, too." —Catherynne M. Valente, author of The Girl Who Soared Over Fairyland and Cut the Moon In Two.

"Seanan is rough and potent magic. Her work may not change you, but it is likely to change your experience of the world." —Elizabeth Bear, author of Stiles of the Sky.

"I've read Seanan’s fiction and nonfiction for years. Because she's smart. Because she's funny. Because she's insightful. Because she uses the word 'f***' in original and interesting ways." —Jim C. Hines, author of Libriomancer.

Letters to the Pumpkin King! Get your copy today! (And yes, Borderlands is planning to stock them, if you're coming to the release party.)

Con or Bust is a project of the Carl Brandon society, which is, to quote their website, "a 501c3 not-for-profit organization whose mission is to increase racial and ethnic diversity in the production of and audience for speculative fiction." To help this mission happen, Kate Nepveu administers the Con or Bust auctions, which help fans of color get to conventions. It's an awesome cause, and it delights me.

This year, Orbit and I have donated two signed sets of the Newsflesh series to the auction. They're being mailed by my publisher, so will not be personalized...but they're being mailed by my publisher, which means there's no chance the mail sack gets forgotten next to the front door for three weeks when there's a new Pokemon release. Everybody wins!

Especially our community. Because what Con or Bust does is make our community better by making it more awesome.

So take a look, and check out the rest of the offerings while you're there.

So io9 has named Indexing one of their books you can't afford to miss in January. Not too bad for the little serial that could, huh? I love how much support this wacky experiment in being very, very serious about very, very ridiculous things has been able to garner, and while I haven't seen the print edition yet, I have other books from 47North which lead me to believe that it's going to be gorgeous.

(Also, for those of you who have not yet read this particular universe, I note that right now, it's closed: volume one is complete, in and of itself. I left it open for a season two, but there's no commitment involved in buying the book. There is, however, the awesome potential to pay my power bill, which weighs heavy on my mind just now. Once upon a times! Ever afters of all sorts! Magic and bureaucracy! Which I still can't spell! What have you got to lose?)

Meanwhile, over at Ranting Dragon, the editor named Chimes at Midnight AND Midnight Blue-Light Special as two of the best books of 2013. This delights me down to the bottom of my bones. I love both my urban fantasy worlds, and sometimes I worry about favoring one over the other. This tells me that I'm doing it right, and that makes me so happy. So, so happy.

Glee.

Before I forget, I want to take a moment to celebrate two very important birthdays.

I met kyrielle online somewhere between fifteen and eighteen years ago, which is positively terrifying if you stop to think about it. We were MUSH* buddies, on a variety of games, as well as being chat/IRC friends and just general companions. She has been there, pom-poms waving, since the start of my career, and well before it. She is smart, sweet, sensitive, sensible, and an amazing mother to her two boys. I sort of feel Ralph-ish where she's concerned: if this girl likes me, how bad can I be?

And then there is saendie. We went to high school together. We wrote for the same ElfQuest fanzine, back in the days of paper fanzines (sort of like fanfic.net on paper, where it could be confiscated by your teacher). We did drama and hung out in J Hall and fought and made up, and she was like, seriously, one of my very first cheerleaders. She was there when I drew a thing, or wrote a thing, and while she wasn't slavering with her praise, she was always ready to be amazed and applaud me for blowing her away. That makes more difference to someone just starting to gain confidence in themselves than I can say.

Happy birthday, ladies. May you continue to be amazing, incredible, and all-around superb for the next year, and for many years beyond.

I am proud to call you my friends.

(*Multi-User Shared Hallucination: a form of text-based RPG.)

1. So I already wrote this entry once, and it was long and chatty and fun, and then I hit a button I didn't even realize existed and it all went away. I am thus suddenly grumpy, and my original tone may have changed a bit. Stupid buttons.

2. Amy Mebberson made a thing and you should all go admire it. I ordered mine so fast when it went up for sale that I actually got #1 of 50. That is love.

3. If you don't have a budget line item for Amy's art (which, let's face it, is a weird line item to have in a budget, and yet), take a look at Renee Nault's incredible watercolor mermaids. She has prints and calendars for sale, and has an incredibly diverse undersea world waiting for you to dive in. So pretty. So cool.

4. Starting Christmas Day, and continuing all the way through my birthday festivities, I will be doing a chain of twelve giveaways, for everything from ARCs and printed books to cover flats, posters, and special surprises. Each giveaway will have its own rules; watch this space for details.

5. Omnivoracious posted a super-fun thing about books at San Diego Comic-Con, including a picture of me in my Umbrella Corporation blue dress, standing in front of the Umbrella Corporation red cover for Parasite. I look very smug. You would, too, if that were your cover.

6. Alice and I did the Macarena this morning. I enjoyed it more than she did.

7. The year is almost over, but there are still some fun surprises to come: watch this space for details, and watch the sky for alien invasions. Darn those alien invasions.

8. Zombies are love.

9. I will be making my last pre-Christmas stop at Borderlands Books this afternoon. At this point, anything ordered won't reach you before the holidays, but you can still get signed and personalized books if you contact them before 2pm PST. After that, I don't guarantee another swing-through until sometime in January.

10. Finally for right now, Jill is still accepting donations to fund her surgery. As I said when she first started this campaign, we could buy her a future for Christmas, and that's amazing. If you've been looking for a tip jar to shove a couple of dollars into as a karmic investment for the year to come, please swing by and take a look at her plea.

I hope that you're all having the merriest holiday possible; I hope you're warm and safe and content, even if you're not in a place where you can be happy; I hope you're taking care of yourselves.

Let's get through these holidays together.

Today is Alice Price-Healy Little Liddel Abernathy McGuire's fifth birthday. We did not meet until she was ten days old, but this is the day when she began. I am still so very grateful to her for deciding to do that.

As a kitten, Alice's name was "Ado Annie," and she was a prissy, prissy princess who didn't really care for any of the human suitors who came to visit her litter. Until she met me, and went to sleep on my arm, and I asked in a strangled voice if her breeder (my friend Betsy Tinney) took checks.

It took a good deal more time and conversation before Alice was ready to come home with me, as a sixteen week old fuzzball with firm ideas about the world, her place in it, and my place under her. She was my first Maine Coon, and after the learning curve was behind us, she quickly became one of my best friends.

She is pushy; loud; arrogant; prissy; very stinting with her love, and very particular about who deserves it. She gives affection when she wants to, not when people demand it. She won't eat human food, but she begs for it all the same, only to disdain it with a sniff if allowed to get a closer look. She sits like a human, and likes to hug the remote. She is, as I often tell her, my favorite thing.

Happy birthday, Alice. Let's celebrate a dozen more.

Hey, people of Earth (and parts beyond)! Remember that this coming weekend I will be the Author Guest of Honor at SFContario, appearing with such luminaries as David Kyle and Chandler Davis. I alone lack that essential "davi" construction: come to shore me up, lest I be destroyed.

I'll be doing an awesome concert Friday night, and there will be awesome things throughout the weekend; if you're in the Toronto area, please consider swinging by to get a little awesome on your shoes.

I am ecstatic to finally be able to announce that I—as in "me writing under my own name," not Mira, who has a different publishing setup than Seanan does—have acquired a UK publisher! Both the October Daye and the InCryptid books will be coming out from Constable & Robinson, under their Corsair imprint. I AM BEING PUBLISHED BY AN IMPRINT THAT IS ALSO AN X-MEN REFERENCE.

My life is complete.

My page on the Constable & Robinson site is right over here, and will eventually have neat things like book covers (no idea yet what the books are going to look like in the UK market IT'S AN EXCITING MYSTERY). There's also an awesome pre-order page for the UK edition of Discount Armageddon, which will be coming out in April of 2014.

The deal includes all the current books in both series, which means a) non-imported editions for my UK readers, and b) easily available ebooks. Such excitement! Such delight!

I am really over the moon about this, and I'm so happy to be joining the Constable & Robinson/Corsair family of authors. UK publisher!

Bliss.

I am very pleased to announce that "Hook Agonistes" has been printed in the latest issue of Subterranean Magazine, and is available to read here:

http://subterraneanpress.com/magazine/fall_2013/hook_agonistes_by_jay_lake_and_seanan_mcguire

This novella is a collaboration between myself and Jay Lake. It is about loss, and identity, and longing to go home. It is about an animatronic Captain Hook, doing his best to shepherd the last remains of the human race. It is about dreams.

"The difficulty with steering by stars is that stars are by their very nature ghosts; they died long before we ever saw their light. When you choose a star to steer by, you are casting yourself as the lead character in a ghost story. It's far better to create stars of your own, set them in the heavens, and steer by the light of something living."

—Michael Lowry III, founder of Lowryland

"All stories are ghost stories."

—Jas of Lowryland

Welcome to Lowryland. This post also serves as your discussion thread, should you want to comment on the story itself; there will be spoilers.

My dearly beloved friend Jim Hines (http://www.jimchines.com/) has a new book out today: Codex Born, the sequel to Libriomancer. The magic of books has never been so real, or so incredibly dangerous.

I really, really loved this book, which I felt expanded and improved upon the world of the original, so when Jim asked if I would be willing to host a giveaway, I was happy to oblige. This is that giveaway. The rules:

1. Leave a comment on this post, naming the first book that really changed your life.
2. Identify your location in the world (US, non-US).
3. If non-US, confirm that you are willing to pay postage (for we are poor writers).

The winner will be chosen by RNG on Friday, August 9th, and Jim himself will be sending a signed copy of Codex Born to the winner. If you're not familiar with the series, you're in luck: book one, Libriomancer, is out today in paperback, so you can get all caught up.

Books! Magic! Awesomeness!

GAME ON!

ETA: Guys, I know it's tempting to discuss people's awesome taste in books with them, but please DO NOT REPLY to comments on RNG giveaway posts! It confuses the RNG, and has resulted in people NOT getting the prizes that they should have received!

Reflections of an Emo Mom has posted a review of One Salt Sea, and says, "The world makes sense. The divisions and alliances make sense. The relationships between various fae breeds (and changelings) are believable. Her characters have depth, they have motive and they have history behind them to explain their actions. She takes her time telling Toby's story - it moves along at just the right pace to keep you hooked. And you can't always guess where she's going (which I frankly love), but when she takes you there you know its the only place the story could have gone. Know what I mean? It's just one of the best UF series out there. So get out and buy it. This series should be on your shelves!" I love making sense!

Book Banter has posted a review of One Salt Sea, and says, "McGuire has a lot of fun with One Salt Sea, exploring her protagonist a little more and how Toby is really dealing with everything that's happened to her, as well as finishing up some storylines and revealing some great origin stories for the world of fae. Fans of the series will be completely swept up with this fifth book, hooked to the very end where they get some answers and finally enjoy that satisfied feeling that not many books deliver this well." I really did have a lot of fun with this book. This is 100% true.

Medieval Bookworm has done a splendid overview of the Toby series, which leaves few good pull quotes, but a lot of lovely, lovely text. I am well pleased.

Janicu has posted a review of One Salt Sea, and says, "The way these books build upon each other is extremely gratifying and long running story arcs are cleverly integrated with each self contained mystery. I should probably also mention that there’s plenty of wry humor, a cast of three dimensional side characters that grows as the series progresses, and wonderful world-building. I am so addicted." Hooray!

Book Spot Central has posted a review of One Salt Sea, and says, "A little outside of the ordinary paranormal investigator, Toby Daye is fun to follow around with her hang-ups, her insecurities, her competencies, and her motley adopted family. Out of the many female investigators of varying sorts and styles out there in urban fantasyland, Toby feels very much to me like the girl you would see in the neighborhood store, or the one you see on a regular basis stopping in at the coffee shop. She seems like real people. I like that." Yay!

And now, a word from our sponsor:

I've received a few emails recently asking, in essence, why I haven't linked to "review X." There are a lot of answers to this, but the most simple is that I have less time than I used to, and hence review roundups are rarer and honestly less essential. I mean, Jiminey Christmas, this is a review roundup focusing on a book that came out last fall: by this point, I've either got you or I've lost you, for the most part. I don't have as many Google spiders as I used to, and the roundups are a little pickier. And I don't link negative reviews unless they raise really interesting discussion points that I feel we can talk about without attacking the reviewer. So...I guess I haven't linked to any given review because I haven't linked to it. I may eventually. I may not. Who knows?

Not me!

So I know you've all been waiting anxiously to see the cover of Velveteen vs. The Multiverse, and I am delighted to finally be able to oblige you. But! Nothing beautiful comes without a cost, and so I must regretfully inform you all that, due to production issues, Velveteen vs. The Multiverse has been delayed slightly, and will not be available at Musecon. Believe me, no one is more disappointed than I am.

Pre-orders are available now, and you can find the information here:

http://isficpress.com/multiverse.php

You may notice that the cover price has increased, from $25 for the first volume to $30. Well, that's because this volume is literally twice as long, and thus cost more to print. You are getting so much extra bang for your buck, I can't even begin to express my joy.

And now, behold the pretty:



OH MY GOD YOU GUYS OH MY GOD IT'S THE COVER TO VELVETEEN VS. THE MULTIVERSE AND IT'S GORGEOUS!

All the versions of Velveteen are there, Marionette and Roadkill and everybody! I could not be happier.

What do you think?

It's July, and you know what that means: a new Newsflesh novella! This year's release is "How Green This Land, How Blue This Sea," in which Mahir Gowda travels to Australia and tries to come to terms with the fact that people are people everywhere in the world.

If you've been missing the world of Feed, and have $2.99 to spare, this is the adventure for you! (I know, I know, "if you have three bucks, this is awesome" isn't the best marketing slogan in the world, but it's what I can come up with before eight o'clock in the morning. Work with me.)

Mahir! Air travel! Zombie kangaroos! This novella has everything, and it should have you. Available now in the US and Canada, July 17th in the United Kingdom.

Newsflesh novella, yay!

I am a total geek. I have never tried to conceal my geekiness, choosing instead to embrace it for the wonderful thing that it is. Without my geeky pastimes, I wouldn't have the same friends, the same toys...the same life. I don't define myself by my geeky passions, but I can't pretend that they haven't defined me throughout my existence. Much like a bonsai is shaped by wire and scissors, I have been shaped by the X-Men and horror movies and roleplaying games and mythology, and I like me this way.

All things considered, it's probably not a surprise that when I was offered the chance to blurb Michael Underwood's Geekomancy, I said "sure, why not." A magic system based on and powered by the geeky joys that run my universe? Yes, please. And to no one's shock or amazement, I adored it. It's fun, it's peppy, it's about people I recognize, because they're the kind of people I voluntarily surround myself with every day of my life. The sequel, Celebromancy, came out recently, and is even more fun.

But here's the thing: these books are e-only, which means they miss out on bookstore browsers and surprise eyes, and too many of the awesome geeky people I know haven't encountered them or had the opportunity to give them a try. So I asked Michael's editor if I could do an e-book giveaway for the first book, to get people hooked on the series, and he said sure (after he finished blinking at me a great deal). And so I now present...

SEANAN GIVES AWAY SOMEONE ELSE'S BOOKS FOR A CHANGE!

This giveaway is for three electronic copies of Geekomancy by Michael Underwood. The limitations:

1. You will need to get the book through a specific channel (the publisher's website), because what I have are download codes.
2. The book is not going to be "Kindle ready," and may not be transferable onto a Kindle without evil magic.

To enter, leave a comment with your geekiest moment. No geek is too great! I, and the Random Number Generator, will select three winners on Friday, June 28th. Open to US residents only (sorry), please leave your comment on the entry itself; comments on comments will not be eligible to win.

Game on!

Thanks to the graphic magic of Tara O'Shea, there are new wallpapers on the October Daye Wallpaper page, this time allowing you to dress your monitor in the fine, fine image of "In Sea-Salt Tears." You can find the wallpaper here:

http://seananmcguire.com/wallpapers.php#short

I am still, to be honest, a little bit staggered by this story's inclusion in this year's Hugo ballot. Not that I'm not staggered by every single nomination—because I am; for some people I may have become a predictable choice, but for me, this is only the third year that I've been on the ballot at all—but this one is...it's special. It's a purely urban fantasy story, for one thing, and stories in that sub-genre don't often get recognized at this level. And it's about women, just women, two women who loved each other for as long as they were allowed. There's no grand battle or flashy challenge.

There's just women.

People talk about "writing what you know," and the parts of this story that are what I know are the parts with kitchens and farmer's markets and Italian dinners and love. So much love. Love that seems like it could change the world forever, even when you know that it can never really change anything but you.

I got urban fantasy on the Hugo ballot.

I'm a little proud of that.

Okay, so:

The Kickstarter for Skin Horse, volume 4 is still going, with newly unlocked backer levels, including "Black Ops Foster Parent," which will come with a page of original art from the story "For Always" which I penned for this collection. All pages will be signed by Shaenon Garrity (the artist) and me (the author). Which means that if you want to have something completely unique—a page of original art from my first published comic story—this is the party for you.

(Hey, after they finally wise up and let me write the X-Men, that's going to be worth bank.)

There are six slots left at the Black Ops Foster Parent level, and I can guarantee that Shaenon will not have any pages left for sale after the Kickstarter finishes, as any that are not claimed by backers, I fully intend to buy for my own collection. So this is your one chance to both support an awesome web comic and keep me from adding more crap to the endlessly growing tide of stuff that threatens to consume my home.

Hooray for comics!

Guys guys guys guys!

The Kickstarter for Skin Horse, volume 4, is now live! What's more, the fools who run this comic book—you know, the ones who let me write the introduction for volume 3—have grown extra foolish, and allowed me to write an original Skin Horse story for the book! YES! I AM BECOME BONUS STORY!

The story, titled "For Always," is about Black Ops Foster Care, and it's short and sweet and awesome, and I am super excited. You should check out the Kickstarter and totally back it, because maybe there will be super secret stretch goals...

(Also yes, I will be at the tiki party. In case that matters.)

I just got back from Jordancon, aka, "an excuse to hang out in Roswell, Georgia with awesome people for four days." I've never been to Georgia in the late spring/early summer before. It was exciting and strange and new, and these are all things that I treasure, regardless of the circumstances surrounding them. Hooray!

Thanks to my uncanny ability to sleep on planes, I don't really remember the flight to Georgia; just getting up ridiculously early to travel to the airport, waking up once in midair to eat my lunch, and then touching down on the other side of the country. I was worried about finding the car that had come to collect me. The car solved this problem by containing Michael Whelan, who waved enthusiastically when he spotted me. Many hugs were had.

I ate dinner with the guests and staff, retreated to my room, watched Glee, wrote, and slept. Friday morning, a very sweet lady named Michelle drove me to breakfast (since my West Coast clock had kept me in bed until the end of East Coast breakfast hours). In the car, she said, "You smell nice. What's your perfume?"

"Old Roswell Cemetery," I said.

It's a funny world.

The con marched on from there. I met awesome people (John Hartness and Delilah Dawson and Alex Bledsoe, oh my). I spent time with people I already knew and adored (Patty and Deborah and Andy and Michael and Audrey and Indigo, hooray). I talked on panels, sang karaoke, critiqued new writers, and bought cupcakes for half the convention. And then I went back to the airport, and came home.

I love my life sometimes. Anything that lets me spend a beautiful weekend in the Georgia summer can't be entirely bad.

Earlier this week, The Guardian published a list of what they viewed as the twenty best young novelists in genre fiction. It's a pretty good list, and I'm awed and delighted to appear on it.

But as I looked at this list, what really struck me was how many of these people I call friends, and how many I call friendly acquaintances ('cause they're not quite close enough for me to call them up and swear at them about the X-Men, but I would totally let them crash in my guest room if necessary). And that was, honestly, even more awesome and delightful than being on the list in the first place.

Lauren Beukes and I were on the Campbell ballot together, and she has been a joy and a delight every time we've been able to spend time together. Saladin Ahmed shares a publisher with me (DAW), and DAW is a family: he's like the cousin I never knew I had until he was stealing my hash browns and lecturing me about my taste in music. NK Jemsin just might be one of my favorite people to share a panel with—she's thoughtful and passionate and engaging, and her thoughts and passions are so brilliantly put together that I can just sit and listen to her forever.

Chuck Wendig is a man I would call brother (and also a man I would call a flaming cockweasel, because that's how we communicate; we're like a spinoff of John Dies at the End, scored for bearded penmonkey and shrieking murder princess).

And then there is Catherynne Valente, about whom I have already said everything, including the eternal "I miss you and I wish you were here."

There are names on the list that I've heard only in passing, names whose works I have read and names whose works I haven't reached for yet. And I know that these people are friends of my friends; that there's this huge web of community that connects us, because we came through the same forests to get here, even if we didn't come via the same paths. It's a wood that shifts every few years, although parts of it remain the same.

I didn't know any of these people before I started publishing (although Cat and I have so many people in common that it would have happened eventually; she has been an inevitability in my life since the day I met Vixy, and that is wonderful), but we have walked the same ways and seen the same sights and we are connected now, and that is incredible. There are so many other names that aren't on this list (Jim Hines, Elizabeth Bear, Peter Clines, Amber Benson, to name a few) who are part of my unique web of connections, and they all have their own webs, forever and ever, to the end of the horizon.

Community forms one meeting and one miracle at a time.

I am so glad to be part of this one.

The world is wonderful.

Yesterday, the very last of the Wicked Girls T-shirts (a reprint, since the original shirt had been damaged in the printing process) went into the mail. One shirt has been returned to me because the address was wrong (we're trying to contact that person now), and some international shirts may still be in the process of getting where they're going, but apart from that, we're finally finished. (As an addendum, if you have not received a shirt, and you should have received a shirt, please mail the merch address as soon as possible. Right now, we have some overruns and extras, so there's a chance we can make things right. This isn't going to be the case forever, and processing refunds is tedious. And yes, we're going honor system with this, because how the hell am I supposed to prove that you don't have something? I can't afford that many plane tickets.)

As of today, I'm still packaging and shipping Wicked Girls posters. All the signed/numbered posters have been spoken for, although some "normal" posters are still available. I'm going to have to rethink my shipping costs after this batch; at this point, mailing a poster overseas is more than $10 USD. It sucks, because I've been trying to keep costs as low as I can, but there's only so much that I can afford to do. (Everyone who has a poster pending will get it for the originally stated shipping cost.)

Yesterday, I mailed a restock of Red Roses and Dead Things to CD Baby—they should have the disks available for purchase by the beginning of next week—and counted the remaining stock in my home. As of right now, there are 64 copies of this album remaining in back stock, and I am not planning to reprint for at least a year. That means that when these are gone, the album goes to officially out of print, and there won't be any more for quite some time, if ever. This is partially a cost issue and partially a storage issue, and both are connected to the same exciting development:

I'm reprinting Stars Fall Home.

I'm reprinting Stars Fall Home with a new cover and a bonus track ("Continental Divide") and the whole thing has been remastered and oh my sweet Great Pumpkin you guys, it sounds amazing. Like, the remastered "Sycamore Tree" is just heartbreaking, it's so good. The current target for me having albums in-hand is the start of May, and since I'm going to need someplace to put them, it's Red Roses and Dead Things' turn to take a little break.

I'm going to have copies of Stars Fall Home again.

I'm so happy.

...meet me down where the river runs red.

I am over the moon to finally be able to announce that "Stingers and Strangers," an original Jonathan Healy and Frances Brown short story, will be appearing in the upcoming Weird West anthology, Dead Man's Hand. To quote the official press release:

"'The weird western is the forefather of steampunk, with a history that includes Stephen King's Dark Tower and Card's Alvin Maker,' editor John Joseph Adams explains. 'But where steampunk is Victorian, weird westerns are darker, grittier, so the protagonist might be gunned down in a duel, killed by a vampire, or confronted by aliens on the streets of a dusty frontier town.'"

"Stingers and Strangers" fits between "No Place Like Home" and "Married In Green." When Johnny and Fran head to Colorado to investigate reports of dead and missing miners, they're in for a whole pile of trouble. It's an engagement not to be taken lightly.

For more information about the anthology, including a full table of contents (Elizabeth Bear! Kelley Armstrong! Ken Liu!), check out the official press release, located here:

http://www.johnjosephadams.com/blog/2013/04/10/new-anthology-dead-mans-hand/

Dead Man's Hand will be released in May of 2014. I'm so excited!

How about a celebration of his evil works, and the evil works of others? Introducing the latest album from awesome-tastic filk rock band, Ookla the Mok, vs. Evil.

A little background:

Ookla the Mok has been through a couple of incarnations, but has always included Adam English and Rand Bellavia. Their first album, Less Than Art, is one of my all-time favorites. Their comic book themed album, Super Secret, is a filk classic. Both are absolutely worth picking up and adoring. Apart from all that, Rand is a friend of mine, and so when he asked if I wanted an early copy of vs. Evil, I pretty much shrieked, grabbed, and ran.

vs. Evil lacks of the deep emotional content of Less Than Art, but that's actually a good thing in this context, because it lets the true silliness of their subject matter shine. From "Evil I" through "Kang the Conqueror" and "The Lizard," this is a celebration of the mad scientists and evil bastards of comic books and movies. The song "Mwahaha" could play over one of Megamind's exploits and no one would bat an eye. It's awesome.

Here is a link to the album:

http://www.ooklathemok.com/vsevil.php

Here is a wholehearted endorsement of the album:

"vs. Evil warms me to the bottom of my black predator's heart." —me.

Here is a death ray.

Draw your own conclusions.

...VERITY PRICE!

Midnight Blue-Light Special debuted at #20 on the New York Times Bestseller List, making it the first book in the InCryptid series to make the print list (the entries on the NYT List that are printed in the paper, rather than just being posted on the website). This is a massive jump from Discount Armageddon, and I could not be happier or more honored.

Thank you all so much for reading, and for following me into this candy-coated heart of darkness. It is an honor, and I am so excited for you to find out what happens next, in Ohio, with Alex.

It's gonna be a party.

The 2013 Hugo Awards ballot has been announced, and is as follows:

Best Novel.

2312 by Kim Stanley Robinson (Orbit)
Blackout by Mira Grant (Orbit)
Captain Vorpatril’s Alliance by Lois McMaster Bujold (Baen)
Redshirts: A Novel with Three Codas by John Scalzi (Tor)
Throne of the Crescent Moon by Saladin Ahmed (DAW)

Best Novella.

After the Fall, Before the Fall, During the Fall by Nancy Kress (Tachyon Publications)
The Emperor’s Soul by Brandon Sanderson (Tachyon Publications)
On a Red Station, Drifting by Aliette de Bodard (Immersion Press)
San Diego 2014: The Last Stand of the California Browncoats by Mira Grant (Orbit)
The Stars Do Not Lie by Jay Lake (Asimov’s, Oct-Nov 2012)

Best Novelette.

“The Boy Who Cast No Shadow” by Thomas Olde Heuvelt (Postscripts: Unfit For Eden, PS Publications)
“Fade To White” by Catherynne M. Valente (Clarkesworld, August 2012)
“The Girl-Thing Who Went Out for Sushi” by Pat Cadigan (Edge of Infinity, Solaris)
“In Sea-Salt Tears” by Seanan McGuire (Self-published)
“Rat-Catcher” by Seanan McGuire (A Fantasy Medley 2, Subterranean)

Best Short Story.

“Immersion” by Aliette de Bodard (Clarkesworld, June 2012)
“Mantis Wives” by Kij Johnson (Clarkesworld, August 2012)
“Mono no Aware” by Ken Liu (The Future is Japanese, VIZ Media LLC)

Note: category has 3 nominees due to a 5% requirement under Section 3.8.5 of the WSFS constitution.

Best Related Work.

The Cambridge Companion to Fantasy Literature Edited by Edward James & Farah Mendlesohn (Cambridge UP)
Chicks Dig Comics: A Celebration of Comic Books by the Women Who Love Them Edited by Lynne M. Thomas & Sigrid Ellis (Mad Norwegian Press)
Chicks Unravel Time: Women Journey Through Every Season of Doctor Who Edited by Deborah Stanish & L.M. Myles (Mad Norwegian Press)
I Have an Idea for a Book... The Bibliography of Martin H. Greenberg Compiled by Martin H. Greenberg, edited by John Helfers (The Battered Silicon Dispatch Box)
Writing Excuses Season Seven by Brandon Sanderson, Dan Wells, Mary Robinette Kowal, Howard Tayler and Jordan Sanderson

Best Graphic Story.

Grandville Bête Noire written and illustrated by Bryan Talbot (Dark Horse Comics, Jonathan Cape)
Locke & Key Volume 5: Clockworks written by Joe Hill, illustrated by Gabriel Rodriguez (IDW)
Saga, Volume One written by Brian K. Vaughn, illustrated by Fiona Staples (Image Comics)
Schlock Mercenary: Random Access Memorabilia by Howard Tayler, colors by Travis Walton (Hypernode Media)
Saucer Country, Volume 1: Run written by Paul Cornell, illustrated by Ryan Kelly, Jimmy Broxton and Goran Sudžuka (Vertigo)

Best Dramatic Presentation (Long Form).

The Avengers
The Cabin in the Woods
The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey
The Hunger Games
Looper

Best Dramatic Presentation (Short Form).

Doctor Who: “The Angels Take Manhattan”
Doctor Who: “Asylum of the Daleks”
Doctor Who: “The Snowmen”
Fringe: “Letters of Transit"
Game of Thrones :“Blackwater”

Best Editor (Short Form).

John Joseph Adams
Neil Clarke
Stanley Schmidt
Jonathan Strahan
Sheila Williams

Best Editor (Long Form).

Lou Anders
Sheila Gilbert
Liz Gorinsky
Patrick Nielsen Hayden
Toni Weisskopf

Best Professional Artist.

Vincent Chong
Julie Dillon
Dan Dos Santos
Chris McGrath
John Picacio

Best Semiprozine.

Apex Magazine edited by Lynne M. Thomas, Jason Sizemore and Michael Damian Thomas
Beneath Ceaseless Skies edited by Scott H. Andrews
Clarkesworld edited by Neil Clarke, Jason Heller, Sean Wallace and Kate Baker
Lightspeed edited by John Joseph Adams and Stefan Rudnicki
Strange Horizons edited by Niall Harrison, Jed Hartman, Brit Mandelo, An Owomoyela, Julia Rios, Abigail Nussbaum, Sonya Taaffe, Dave Nagdeman and Rebecca Cross

Best Fanzine.

Banana Wings edited by Claire Brialey and Mark Plummer
The Drink Tank edited by Chris Garcia and James Bacon
Elitist Book Reviews edited by Steven Diamond
Journey Planet edited by James Bacon, Chris Garcia, Emma J. King, Helen J. Montgomery and Pete Young
SF Signal edited by John DeNardo, JP Frantz, and Patrick Hester

Best Fancast.

The Coode Street Podcast, Jonathan Strahan and Gary K. Wolfe
Galactic Suburbia Podcast, Alisa Krasnostein, Alexandra Pierce, Tansy Rayner Roberts (Presenters) and Andrew Finch (Producer)
SF Signal Podcast, Patrick Hester, John DeNardo, and JP Frantz
SF Squeecast, Elizabeth Bear, Paul Cornell, Seanan McGuire, Lynne M. Thomas, Catherynne M. Valente (Presenters) and David McHone-Chase (Technical Producer)
StarShipSofa, Tony C. Smith

Best Fan Writer.

James Bacon
Christopher J Garcia
Mark Oshiro
Tansy Rayner Roberts
Steven H Silver

Best Fan Artist.

Galen Dara
Brad W. Foster
Spring Schoenhuth
Maurine Starkey
Steve Stiles

John W. Campbell Award for Best New Writer.

Award for the best new professional science fiction or fantasy writer of 2011 or 2012, sponsored by Dell Magazines (not a Hugo Award).

Zen Cho
Max Gladstone
Mur Lafferty
Stina Leicht
Chuck Wendig

Those of you with keen eyes may have noticed my name a time or two. So here are my firsts for this year:

First woman to appear on the ballot four times in fiction categories alone.
First person to appear on the ballot five times in a single year.
First person to appear on the ballot with a purely self-published work ("In Sea-Salt Tears," Best Novelette nominee).

Here are some other fun facts: this is the first time Sheila Gilbert, my editor at DAW, or Chris McGrath, who is responsible for the October Daye covers (as well as many, many more) have appeared on the Hugo ballot. As of this year's ballot, every novella or novel-length work in the Newsflesh series has appeared on the Hugo ballot. I have essays in two of the works in Best Related Work. Urban fantasy in any form rarely makes award ballots, and I have two October Daye-universe novellas on this ballot.

Fringe is on the ballot for the first time ever this year. So is Mark Oshiro of Mark Reads, which is just amazing. The whole ballot is amazing.

I have eaten nothing but ice cream today. I have cried a lot.

I am grateful and honored and terrified and fragile and amazed, because this ballot represents the best of 2012 in a very concrete way. I see so many works there that blew my mind, and I look forward to experiencing the rest.

Thank you so much. I will try very hard not to let you down.

Psst. C'mere.

So it's no secret that I love the covers DAW gives me, and that showing them off is one of my true pure joys in life. Chris McGrath has been designing Toby covers for seven books now, and he's amazing. Like, seriously amazing. Want proof?

Go ahead. Take a peek.

( Cut-tagged for the protection of your friends' list, which really doesn't need something this huge suddenly showing up without warning. But trust me, you should totally click.Collapse )

This is one of those days that calls to mind the opening line of Clive Barker's classic The Thief of Time: "The great gray beast February had eaten Harvey Swick alive." February is a monster, and we're all being digested. In an effort to slow the process, here are a few interesting things from my link file.

Susan, who is splendid, and who makes amazing hand-crafted leather goods, is making leather wrist straps with the Ashes of Honor ding bat on them (with my permission, naturally). That's not all she has to offer (my cats love her catnip toys, for example). Check her out!

Here are some rejected warning signs for you. I basically want to put these all around my house, especially "Annnnnnnnd...you're infected." That, and "We Apologize For What is About to Occur," which may eventually be the title of one of my books.

Publishers Weekly did a profile on me and it's pretty much amazing. I'm just saying.

Also I went on the SF Signal Podcast and spent like, an hour talking about television and how the Syfy Channel Saturday night movies have lost their integrity. You can listen to the whole thing here. Warning: It turns out I swear a lot. Who knew?

In other news, I really need to do a couple of mega review round-ups; my link file is currently threatening to eat my soul in the night, and that would be bad.

Happy Wednesday!

Hi.

My name is Seanan McGuire, and I'd like to talk to you about the Hugo Awards.

I'm going to be upfront here: I do have a potential horse in this race. I've posted about my eligibility for this year's awards already, and I've never made any secret of the fact that I really would love to win a Hugo for fiction. In my perfect world, this would be my year, because a Hugo for Blackout would be like a Hugo for the whole trilogy. There's no way I could make this entry without these facts being considered, because if I didn't state them up front, it might seem like I was trying to hide them, and I'm not. I just want you to set them aside for a moment, and focus on the awards as a whole.

Did you know that anyone can nominate, and vote, for the Hugo Awards? All you have to do is become a Supporting Member of this year's World Science Fiction Convention by January 31st. (You could also become a full member and attend the con, if you've been hankering for an excuse to go to Texas and see lots of cool people, like me, and Paul Cornell, and probably more than that, but let's be honest. Me and Paul in the bar for the weekend would be a pretty good time.) The Book Smugglers hosted this amazing post about the Hugos, and I want to quote one bit that really stood out to me:

"I highly encourage everyone, especially people who believe, like I do, that there’s space for YA recognition, more women, non-white, and international voices, to look at the membership options and if joining the process and the conversation around it is possible, give it a shot. See if it’s worth investing in each year. Nominate the people and things you love. Vote for the stuff you think represents the best of genre, the best of all the things that the future science fiction and fantasy fandom should remember."

We can shape the future of the genre, everybody, and that's amazing.

Now that I've made my plea for the awards in general, and made my own horses known, I'd like to bring up three horses that I have nothing to do with, but which I still think deserve your consideration, if you have the opportunity.

Fringe season four, episode 19, "Letters in Transit." Oh my sweet Great Pumpkin. This is an amazing hour of television, it's just breathtaking, whether you're a Fringe fan or someone who doesn't know the show. Fringe hasn't made the ballot before, and seriously, I think that may be a crime against televised science fiction. Please consider this episode for Best Dramatic Short Form.

Phineas and Ferb season three, episode 18, "Excaliferb." Phineas and Ferb is some of the best science fiction being made for television today, and the fact that it's primarily geared at eight-year-olds doesn't stop it from being enjoyable and accessible to an adult audience. This was the first part of the time-slip chronicles, and is basically a Princess Bride parody with a fire-breathing dragon/platypus hybrid. Please consider this episode for Best Dramatic Short Form.

And finally, my biggest horse...Mark Oshiro, of Mark Reads. Mark produces interesting, hysterical, thoughtful videos and blog posts almost daily, and has built a huge, inclusive, interactive, exciting fan community dedicated to discussing and dissecting his reviews and analysis of speculative fiction. Seriously, this is some of the best deconstruction of genre I've ever seen. Plus the man is a living reaction shot. When he is not prepared for something, he is totally not prepared. Were he to win a Hugo, his acceptance speech would probably go on to receive an Oscar nomination, because it would be the ultimate in unpreparedness. He's a great guy who runs a great blog and provides some of the best fan writing I've seen on the Internet in years. Please consider Mark Oshiro, of Mark Reads, for Best Fan Writer.

Those are the horses, and those are the reasons you should put yourself into a position to choose some horses for yourself. The Hugo Awards are a big deal, and participation, while not free (or even affordable for everyone), is well worth the cost if you can swing it. Be a part of history. Be a part of choosing what the community etches into the roll of heroes. Help somebody win a medal so big and shiny that it'll make all of Felix's medals wet their pants (did I mention that I want Wreck-It Ralph to win everything, forever?).

Thank you for your time.

It's time for another giveaway of Midnight Blue-Light Special, because I really and truly miss having a bedroom floor that I could sometimes see, rather than walking atop a tide of books and papers and heavily-armed dolls.

So it's time for a return of everybody's favorite, the random number drawing, because I am sleepy and still a little sick, which means all my creativity is being channeled into actually getting work done (a dangerous pastime, I know). So...

1. To enter, comment on this post.
2. If you are international, indicate this, and your willingness to pay postage.
3. That's it.

I will choose two winners at 12noon PST on Monday, January 28th, so that we can see this month out with a bang (and yet another trip to the post office).

Game on!

Let me tell you about Rose Marshall,
The sweetest girl that you’d ever see.
They always say that the good die young,
Well, she died back in fifty-three,
Kept her prom night date with the cemetery...

They call her the spirit of Sparrow Hill Road. She's the girl at the diner, the phantom prom date, and the girl in the green silk gown. She's long gone, ashes and bones, and she'll never find the ride that brings her home.

Her name is Rose.

She's got a few stories she's been dying to tell.

I am delighted and a little bit blown away to be able to announce that Sparrow Hill Road, the book, will be coming from DAW Books in 2014. This full-length work will include heavily revised versions of eleven of the original "Sparrow Hill Road" stories, along with two all new stories, and a Price Family Field Guide to the Dead of the North American Ghostroads. (The story that was cut, "Bad Moon Rising," didn't add to the main plot of the book, and may appear in revised format elsewhere somewhere down the line.)

I seriously couldn't be happier about this, you guys. I'm just...Rose Marshall, the girl who thought she'd never get out of Buckley, is coming soon to a bookstore near you.

It's so cool.

First up, the winner of last week's good faith drawing for a copy of A Fantasy Medley 2 is...

bookblather!

Usual rules apply: you have twenty-four hours to get me your mailing information, after which I will select another winner if necessary. Thanks to all who entered, and all who offered to pay postage. You guys are amazing.

I'm going to be opening a few drawings for copies of Midnight Blue-Light Special this week, and try to finish mailing everything that sort of fell a few days behind while I was sick even unto death. Thank you all for your patience, and for your ongoing awesomeness.