In which Seanan is bemused by time.
So the fifth October Daye book just came out. One Salt Sea, available now from a bookstore near you. The first mention of this series that I can find in this journal is from July, 2001. That's ten years. And even that post says "this has been going on for a while, this isn't new, this is only new here."
I remember having someone who was one of my closest friends look at me and say, in all sincerity, "I didn't know you were writing a book."
I remember having several people, after I wrote the original short story about a changeling detective having a bad day, hassle me with playground chants of, "Toby wants a novel."
I remember thinking I'd never finish a single one of these books, much less sell them. I'd never be good enough, I'd never be together enough, I'd never have the discipline or skill required to finish a whole novel. And today is the release of my seventh, and my fifth in the series I love more than anything.
It's all very strange.
I know that mostly when I'm over here, in a relatively safe-and-private space (inasmuch as anything is safe or private on the internet), I talk about how tired I am. I'm not exaggerating; I'm exhausted. But I wouldn't trade it for anything. Seriously: not for anything. This is what I've wanted my whole life, and now that I have it, I'm keeping it for as long as I can. And it would take a really big bonfire to erase every copy of my books from the world, and that's amazing, too.
Some of you have been here this whole time. Thank you so much for that. Tired as I am, it still means the world to me.
I remember having someone who was one of my closest friends look at me and say, in all sincerity, "I didn't know you were writing a book."
I remember having several people, after I wrote the original short story about a changeling detective having a bad day, hassle me with playground chants of, "Toby wants a novel."
I remember thinking I'd never finish a single one of these books, much less sell them. I'd never be good enough, I'd never be together enough, I'd never have the discipline or skill required to finish a whole novel. And today is the release of my seventh, and my fifth in the series I love more than anything.
It's all very strange.
I know that mostly when I'm over here, in a relatively safe-and-private space (inasmuch as anything is safe or private on the internet), I talk about how tired I am. I'm not exaggerating; I'm exhausted. But I wouldn't trade it for anything. Seriously: not for anything. This is what I've wanted my whole life, and now that I have it, I'm keeping it for as long as I can. And it would take a really big bonfire to erase every copy of my books from the world, and that's amazing, too.
Some of you have been here this whole time. Thank you so much for that. Tired as I am, it still means the world to me.