Authors and puppies

After a long day of medical nonsense, I got to relax with my writer pals at Eville Writers. And a puppy.

Here, have a gratuitous puppy picture.

Said puppy is a service dog being trained by awesome writer and Literary Underlord Cole Gibsen. I warned her that if she didn't bring me fresh stock to take to Nashville this weekend, I was going to send Jimmy to her house and mug her for books. If you have any fondness for YA fantasy and kickass writing, you should check out Cole. We seriously cannot keep her titles in stock. And we have the new one, which will be up on the LitUnd site before the weekend. She's amazing and her work is really on the upswing.

Topics of conversation included the usual: state of the industry, self-pub vs. trad pub, recent signings, upcoming conventions, marketing your book and Julnawrimo.

Yeah, I guess I'm going to do Julnawrimo again. I'm doing a rewrite on a previously-written project, because I am still not happy with it and since it's temporarily homeless, I can do what I want to it. I must be doing something right, since I have done more than 2,000 words tonight and will do more before I sock it in for the day.

This weekend is Hypericon, a terrific show in Nashville that I've attended every year it's been held save one. I'm looking forward to seeing the Nashville crew and slinging some books. Two weeks after that will probably be a trip to Memphis, mostly for personal reasons, but I'll be bringing a box of Nocturne Infernum for anyone who missed the premiere in March.

Then we're home. For a month. At least. Holy crap, I might actually unpack. I'm starting to think Murv Sellars has the right idea: designate a few months of the year where you don't do speaking engagements, conventions, signings or any other nonsense, and just write. Knowing me, however, I'd end up binging on Netflix and arguing with strangers on Facebook.

(Seriously, I had a ton of spare time this weekend, which is not standard for me. And did I write? No, I watched a zillion episodes of Orange is the New Black, because that goddamn show is my productivity-killer. Shh, don't tell me what happens; I'm not done yet.)

Okay, that's enough procrastination. Another 500 words before I have to go pick up The Man.