Having a book released is sort of like Christmas. There’s the long, build up, and when finally the day arrives, you rush to see if Santa left good responses or a lump of coal. You’re able to maybe coast for a while on the excitement of it all, but then comes the day when the decorations come down and everything returns to normal.
And so it’s back to normal here. The only thing noteworthy that has happen recently was my brother’s birthday, where I got to razz him on always being older than me. Then, of course, my sisters can do the same to me, brats that they are. In my family we’re equal opportunity razzers.
The Reckoning Flames is coming along—Rabbit has found himself in a predicament and it’ll be interesting to see how it resolves. While I generally know a story’s beginning and end, the middle is a wild, uncharted terrority with the plots taking twists and turns that surprise even me. As far as I’m concerned, that’s the best part of writing—having your characters come alive and shock the heck out of you.
At my last post, I had fully intended to start A Game of Thrones, but I’d come across some books by Mark del Franco, his Connor Grey series. They’re urban fantasy but instead of the usual vampires and werewolves, it’s chock full of druids, elves, fairies, dwarfs and other fae. I’ve plowed through three of them and am going to get the fourth. The Abigail Adams murder mystery also arrived—though I discovered that it wasn’t written by Barbara Hambly, but by Barbara Hamilton. Ah, well. It received very good reviews, so I expect to enjoy it anyway while I wait for Ms. Hambly’s new Benjamin January book to be released. I’ve also picked up Diana Gabaldon’s latest in the Jaime and Claire saga. In all, my reading calendar has beome rather full, so Mr. Martin has been placed back on the shelf until another time.