In which Seanan becomes a New York Times bestselling author.
Friday night, I was chilling at my computer when an acquaintance of mine congratulated me. On what?, I wondered. A link was provided. I clicked the link. The link took me to the New York Times Best Sellers, which seemed like a bit of a cruel joke, since I would have known if I had made the list. Right? Right?
I scrolled down the list.
Late Eclipses, the fourth October Daye adventure, held the #32 slot.
I stared at it for a few minutes before calling Vixy and asking her to click the link. I didn't tell her why, because let's face it, I wanted to know if she could see it, too. She made inquisitive noises as she scrolled...and then she started shrieking. Okay, so yeah. She could see it.
Lots of screaming and flailing followed, as well as a phone tree that managed to double back on itself about seventeen times. Oxygen was not a priority. The Agent eventually returned my call, and then we spent a lovely half-hour or so going "Oh my God" a lot, which is basically what I was hoping she would do (sometimes, being coherent is for other people). The cats watched all of this with disdain, thus proving that the essential laws of reality had not changed, and eventually, I watched Fringe and went to bed.
I'm a New York Times bestselling author. Me.
I still can't believe I'm not asleep.
I scrolled down the list.
Late Eclipses, the fourth October Daye adventure, held the #32 slot.
I stared at it for a few minutes before calling Vixy and asking her to click the link. I didn't tell her why, because let's face it, I wanted to know if she could see it, too. She made inquisitive noises as she scrolled...and then she started shrieking. Okay, so yeah. She could see it.
Lots of screaming and flailing followed, as well as a phone tree that managed to double back on itself about seventeen times. Oxygen was not a priority. The Agent eventually returned my call, and then we spent a lovely half-hour or so going "Oh my God" a lot, which is basically what I was hoping she would do (sometimes, being coherent is for other people). The cats watched all of this with disdain, thus proving that the essential laws of reality had not changed, and eventually, I watched Fringe and went to bed.
I'm a New York Times bestselling author. Me.
I still can't believe I'm not asleep.