Then back away again.
Lots of vivid, awful dreams last night which I will not relay in detail but which I interpret as health anxiety. I had a salad for lunch today. And never mind that I woke up four minutes before the last non-tardy bus was going to arrive. Yeah, I’m a real fashion rebel at work today.
But I swung by the downtown Borders to buy my son a welcome home toy, and what should I see but new, unsigned copies of Child of Fire? It seems the fourteen they ordered originally were down to three, and the five new ones were just sitting there waiting for me to scribble in them. Which I did.
On top of that, the book is now up to 49 reviews on Amazon.com, and a few of the most recent are quite-sensible 5-star reviews. Such good people, really. But who will be number 50? The suspense is so strong that I’m tempted to make a contest about it. (Okay, not really. Did I mention that I overslept and almost missed work? I’m too damn tired for a contest.)
And I no longer feel like a miserable failure. So there’s that.
And the 50th review has been posted! It’s yet another “This isn’t a Jim Butcher novel!” comment. Ah, well.