In which Seanan becomes a New York Times bestselling author.

[seanan_mcguire]

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

Comments

[spectralbovine]

HELLO, NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR, SEANAN MCGUIRE.

HOW DOES IT FEEL TO HAVE WRITTEN A NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER?

[seanan_mcguire]

It feels really really really really really really really really weird. Like, this is not my beautiful wife levels of WEIRD.

[spectralbovine]

I'm so proud of you, though. You worked fucking hard for this, and I really love seeing all that hard work pay off in actual success.

[seanan_mcguire]

I love you, too. :)

[lysystratae]

and you deserve it!

[seanan_mcguire]

Thanks!

[cupcakery]

CONGRATULATIONS.

[seanan_mcguire]

THANK YOU!

[catsittingstill]

Congratulations! Welcome to the New York Times Bestseller List. We hope you can stay!

[seanan_mcguire]

It's so deeply surreal, there are no words.

[catsittingstill]

I dunno, it doesn't seem that strange to me.

In other news, the mp3 for the Toby song I wrote at the rest stop Friday is now up if you're interested and have time.

[seanan_mcguire]

Oh, wow! Oh, that's gorgeous.

Thank you so much.

[touch_of_ink]

Yay! Congratulations! You deserve this, which is cliche, but in this case also happens to be true.

[seanan_mcguire]

Awww, yay.