Kim Harrison's Blog, page 79

Don’t Panic!

Don’t Panic! That is my watch word today as I’ve got a tell-all interview and tour news for you.

Firstly, the deadline to vote in the grudge match between Atlanta (The eagle) and Minneapolis (The space man carrot) for that last tour spot has been extended a week due to holiday slowdown on the Internet. If you know someone in the area who reads my books, ask them if they are going! Minneapolis was ahead the last time I looked. It includes shipping the book to you so you don’t have to wait to start reading right away.

To vote for Minneapolis

To vote for Atlanta (Decatur)

And secondly, I’ve got some juicy Trent/Rachel gossip over at the Harper Voyager Books blog today where I answer a few questions and settle a few concerns over the possible ending of the series.

Voyager Interview

Let me know what you think . . .    :-)

How to get a signed EVER AFTER

The counter on my blog says fourteen days until the release of EVER AFTER–which means Nicola’s is getting their copies soon if not right this instant!  Can you imagine five boxes of big beautiful gold and orange EVER AFTERs just sitting there, silent and deep, waiting like bunnies to be taken home and loved for two weeks? You want one? Huh? Do you? -grin-

Yep, Nicola’s has ‘em, and due to their generosity of spirit, they will again let me come in and not only sign, but personalize books to be shipped out, even overseas. If you want one, this is THE best place to do it. Nicola’s is my local store, home grown and invested in the community. You can get signed books from Nicola’s any time, but the ones personalized with an note we only do for a few weeks around the release of a book. Best thing is they work very hard to get them to you on release day if at all possible–which means we’re nearing the deadline to work within the shipping times.

If I’m not coming to your area and our paths are not going to cross and you want one of these bad boys signed to you with a note from me, here’s what you do:

1.  Go to their ordering site and order a book.  I’ve got the link at the end here.

2.  Work through the order form until you get to the “pay me” part.  Way down at the bottom you’ll see a box that looks like this.

3.  In this box, you write in “Please have Kim sign my book”  ORRRRRRRR  ”Please have Kim sign my book to __________”  and fill in the blank with who you want me to personalize it to.  The first will get you my signature, the second will get it personalized to you with a note.

4.  If you don’t put anything in the box, you’ll get a book but no signature.

5.  International orders are okay, but it can be pricy, so please email them for a shipping quote first at nicolasbooks@tds.net

Here’s the link to get you started.  Nicola’s signed EVER AFTER

I am very grateful for Nicola’s for doing this for us.  I know it’s a pain to try to get these out to you so they will land on your door on the publishing date, so please don’t wait for the last moment to order.  The books have to be sent from Harper early, and if you place your order late, there is that extra shipping time to deal with.  You’ll still get your book, but it won’t be on the drop date.  I will do my part by getting there to sign them a few days before the drop date, but again, you have to order with enough time to actually ship it to you.

Tour cities, last voting, signed books, and organization! Yay!

I am slow this morning, very slow, but on the upside, I had a charming dream about a carved village scene hidden in my pool table along with a pomeranian. Please don’t ask.

Why so slow? We are fifteen days out from release, which means that I’m trying to shift my internal clock a few hours toward the West Coast. Laugh if you will, but I distinctly do not remember my first signing at Powells old store before we moved it to Beaverton. I know I was asleep.

I’m going to start hitting the echinacea as well to bolster my immune system. After a few years, it starts tasting pretty good, and I hear the flue is bad this year. We already had a  bought of it go through our house, but whatever my boys had, it was 24 hours, and not as fierce as I’m hearing it can be. Two weeks out takes a tole, and If I don’t start preparing now, I will be flat on my back and sick by day nine, and seeing you guys is too much fun to do when you’re drugged up on dayquil.

So yesterday I wound up doing something I never expected. Guy took the false back out of a closet and found another ten by four space, which had to be refloored, rewalled, and the blown-in insulation repacked where it had fallen out because there WAS no wall holding it in. That took him two days, but everything that was in the closet before was in piles in the main room. Well . . . when we moved, I threw all my old manuscripts in boxes, well-labled boxes, but I didn’t have time to sort them. And they needed sorting.  That’s what I did Sunday, saving only three manuscripts from each book. (The original rough draft that no one sees, the one that I sent to my editor with notes all over it, and then a box of notes, dialog, maps, and plots.) I can get two books in one big box, and I wound up throwing away at least a dozen manuscripts that were useless. Yay me. My spring cleaning is complete.

Dead Witch Walking 2004

I also found the original short story that started DEAD WITCH WALKING. I had named her Wanda Wisk at that point, and the last person who laughed at that “spent the night at the ER with one of those drink umbrellas up his nose.”  It’s surprisingly close to what ended up on the shelf, with the tone shifted but the voice almost the same.

Also, today is the last day to vote for Minneapolis or Atlanta. I know there is no way we are going to hit 150 books, but if I know my publicist, she’s going to want to do something, even if it is just signing the winning store’s books, so don’t give up voting. Bring Kim to: Minneapolis   Bring Kim to: Atlanta

Best news is that if you are not going to be near any city I’m coming to, (click here to check) you can still get a signed book, and Nicolas will try very hard to get it to you by the release date. We did this with INTO THE WOODS, and though it was a lot of work on both our parts, the result was fantastic, so they are willing to give it another go. Price listed includes domestic shipping to get it to your door on release day. Nicola’s will ship international as well  if you email them for a shipping quote, but they are going to try very hard to get your signed / personalized book to you at the release date. I sign them in the order they come in, so if you want one, now is the time to order. I’ll be heading in there soon to get the early copies going. Just be sure to tell them in the comment box if you want it just signed, or if you want it personalized to _______ and I’ll write in a little note as well.

Order from Nicola’s

Lookie, lookie!

I’ve got a couple of cool “warm fuzzies” for you today!  EVER AFTER has made Amazon’s best books of the month list in fantasy and sf. fhttp://www.amazon.com/b/ref=s9_dnav_bw_ir23_b?_encoding=UTF8&node=4919346011&pf_rd_m=ATVPDKIKX0DER&pf_rd_s=center-4&pf_rd_r=092R4E4PH431A9YY5YYF&pf_rd_t=101&pf_rd_p=1448769122&pf_rd_i=390919011

And EVER AFTER has also made John DeNardo’s best bets for awe-inspiring SF and F over at Kirkus!

http://www.kirkusreviews.com/blog/science-fiction-and-fantasy/best-bets-awe-inspiring-science-fiction-fantasy-ja/

Printing out book twelve, and voting continues!

Feels good to be back in my office today. I took the entire week off between Christmas and New Years, the first time I’ve done that in about ten years. I did NOTHING but piece together fabulous wooden puzzles, knit holiday socks and mittens for those I love, baked, cooked, ate, ate some more, and watched lots of movies, football, and the latest series drama coming out of Washington. But the mind never really steps completely away from the work, and it’s a relief to be able to sit in my quiet, peaceful office and feel the stress channeled into positive action.

I’m printing out  book twelve today to send off to my publisher. I’ve not looked at it in several months, but it felt as ready as possible when I put it aside. I see where I think it needs work, but I need a second set of eyes before I rip it apart so I don’t overdo it.

I know it would be faster to simply email it to my editor than print it out and send it along with an electronic copy, not to mention cheaper, but we both like working from paper and I’m hoping that if she has a real manuscript to work from that I’ll get it back with marks and comments instead of an electronic copy with easily read comments in the margin and changes made and needing only my approval. It’s the way things are heading. I both applaud it and dread it.

I work so much with stuff in my head and on the screen that I try to retain what I can of the tactile–of the cool sound of sliding paper, the stacks of print shifting from one side of my desk to the other to make the pacing easier to study, and the frowning over handwritten comments giving me time to soak in the meaning behind the question. Besides, I don’t catch typos on the screen well. The screen has always represented temporary, easily fixed. It’s only in the paper copy that it feels real and I pay attention. My bad.

The bunnies from A PERFECT BLOOD tour are ready for the next tour, and so am I! We just have one more store to decide, and it’s up to you.  The grudge match between Eagle Eye Books in Atlanta and Uncle Hugos in Minneapolis is still going on for a few days more. The voting is really slow, and I don’t think either store is going to make it to the 150 book cut off. You always run the risk of things not working out when you try new marketing techniques, but it might turn around yet. Not much happens between Christmas and New Years, and there’s an entire week to go. If you’re in Atlanta or Minneapolis, it’s a great way to get a signed book.

To vote for Atlanta.

To vote for Minneapolis.

Or you can order from Nicola’s and get it personalized . . . I know my website says we can’t personalize it with a note, but for an organized big release like this, we can and do! Just tell me who it’s for and that you want a note in the comment box when ordering.

And to see if I’m coming to your town, here’s the event’s page.

Last Call For EVER AFTER Tour Ts

I hope everyone is having a restful, peaceful New Years. I’m looking forward to our annual seafood feast. But before I get lost in the festivities tonight, I did want to remind everyone that the last day to order a tour T to make the last print run is the 3rd of January. After noon EST, the last order will be placed with the printer. The cutoff is early this year, but we’re down to a handful of days before the release, and we need time to get them out to you.

If you don’t like pay pal and need to snail mail a money order, you can still order a tour T, but you have to email Guy at coldtoastwritingsllc@comcast.net to tell him what size/address before the cutoff so he can get your shirt printed.

I’ve got a great page set up that details how to order HERE  Ignore the note about the increase in shipping cost. We’re just going to eat the difference.

 

 

Kim’s yearly blog review

Every year, WordPress.com prepares an annual report compiling lots of stats about your favorite posts and where you are dialing in from. I thought you might be interested, so here it is!

About 55,000 tourists visit Liechtenstein every year. This blog was viewed about 630,000 times in 2012. If it were Liechtenstein, it would take about 11 years for that many people to see it. Your blog had more visits than a small country in Europe!

Click here to see the complete report.

Early release of Chapter Two – EVER AFTER

I know I said this was going to pop up on the 25th, but family took priority and I wasn’t able to get to updating the web page. (It’s both a boon and a burden to be your own webmistress) But it’s there now for your holiday reading. Enjoy!

 

 

EVER AFTER

by

Kim Harrison

 

Quen’s car was warm, the seats heated and my vents aimed at me to make the escaping strands of my braid tickle my neck as we slowly wove through the twisty hospital campus. Feeling ill, Ileaned to the dash and peered through the curved glass, both anxious to get there and uncertain as to what I was going to tell Trent. It was starting to mist, and everything had a surreal glow. The tall main building looked foreboding in the rain, lights gleaming on its slick walls. That was not our destination. People got better—mostly—at the hospital. Where we were headed, the only healing was emotional.

The tires hissed on the wet pavement as we took a tight corner into a cul-de-sac. Three modest structures, identical apart from their color, were before us, I.S. cruisers and black Crown Vics parked in the drives and at the curbs. My lips curled in disgust at the news van, bright lights spilling out along with heavy wires like grotesque umbilical cords running into one of the houses. It must have made their night to have their local story picked up nationwide.

The three two-story homes looked out of place in the otherwise institutional hospital setting. They were relatively new, the landscaping bushes still small and inadequate. It was Cincinnati’s Rosewood wing where Rosewood babies were moved to, sometimes born here, but always dying here, never surviving. A lot of parents elected to take their baby home for his or her last days, but not all, and the homey atmosphere was a boon. Counselors were more prevalent than nursing staff. They hadn’t had such a place when I’d been born, and as Quen parked his two-seater into a space too small for the official cars, I felt odd and melancholy.

Quen put the car in park, making no move to get out. I, too, leaned back into the plush seat, afraid almost. Blowing his breath out noisily, Quen turned to me. “I’m going to tell him we had dinner and talked about his security,” he finally said, his eyes holding a hint of pleading. “I’m also going to tell him that I was asking your opinion if he was secure on his own merits, and that you said he was, but that if the situation changed that you would . . .”

My heart thumped as he let his words trail off into expectation, waiting for me to finish his sentence and tell him I’d watch Trent when he couldn’t. That wasn’t even mentioning the little white lie. I didn’t know how I felt about that, and I searched Quen’s expression. The shadow-light coming from the lit-up building made him look older, his worry clear. Damn it all to hell. “That if the situation changed that I’d be able to assist in keeping the girls safe,” I said firmly, and Quen’s expression became stoic.

“Very well, Tal Sa’han,” he grumbled, and my eyebrows rose. Tal Sa’han? That was a new one. I would have asked him what it meant, but his voice had been mocking.

“Then let’s go,” I said, reaching for my bag. The little clutch bag felt too small as I got out, and my clothes were totally inappropriate for a crime scene. The cool mist touched my face, and the thump of Quen’s door surprised me. Dropping my eyes to the damp pavement, I shut my door as well.

I took a deep breath and lifted my chin, starting for the door, already propped open for the sporadic flow of people in and out. I couldn’t help but notice the opening was almost twice as wide as usual. I hated oversize doors—or rather, I hated the wheelchairs they alluded to. A sudden wish to be anywhere but here struck me. I had escaped dying from Rosewood syndrome. It had taken almost all my early life to do it and it shaped me in ways I was only now figuring out, but the reminder was bittersweet.

Quen met me stride for stride. “Are you okay?”

We had gained the paved walk, which artistically meandered to give the appearance of distance and interest. It just looked fake to me. “Fine,” I said, my mood growing worse. I didn’t want to be here—didn’t like the memories being stirred up. Someone was stealing Rosewood babies, and what followed from there was enough to make my nights sleepless.

Head down, I stepped over the news van’s cords, walking sideways to get through the door and flashing my ID to the I.S. guy. I think it was more Quen’s and my fancy dress that got us in than my ID. The officer clearly didn’t recognize me, but only someone who needed to be here would come dressed in formalwear. I’d have to remember that.

The cool night mist vanished, and I hesitated just inside the wide entryway, feeling Quen’s silent, solid presence behind me. A set of stairs led up, probably to nurses’ quarters; the kitchen was behind the stairway, down a short hallway. There were two living rooms, one to either side of the door. Both of them were full of people standing around, talking, but only one had the lights of the news crews. It was warm, even for me, and I didn’t like the excited tone of the newswoman asking the distraught mother how she felt now that her baby—thriving against all odds—had been stolen.

“What a slime,” I whispered with a surge of anger, and Quen cleared his throat in warning. Someone had pieced together that the Rosewood syndrome was actually an expression of too much demon enzyme and was “harvesting” demon blood while the babies still lived. I’d be dead, too, if Trent’s father hadn’t modified my mitochondria to supply the enzyme that blocked the lethal action of the first enzyme that actually invoked demon magic. It was a mouthful that basically meant he’d enabled me to survive being born a demon.

Quen’s hand cupped my elbow, and he gently pulled me out of some- one’s way. Numb, I looked for a familiar face—somewhere to start. My evening dress was garnering odd looks, but it also kept people away. That stupid newscaster was still interviewing the parents, and I.S. agents stood at the outskirts hoping to get some airtime. No one recognized me, thank God, and I felt guilty for being surrounded by so much grief—grief that my parents had endured and triumphed over. Damn it, I would not feel guilty for having survived.

“There he is,” Quen breathed in relief, and I followed his gaze to the back of the living room to the hallway running from the nurseries to the kitchen.

“And Felix,” I said, surprised to find Trent talking to the undead vampire. Or rather, he was talking to Nina, the young vampire that Felix currently liked doing his aboveground talking through. The young woman was looking thinner than the last time I’d seen her, better dressed and confident, but decidedly peaked, as if she’d been on too many amphetamines for the last four months. It was hard to see her behind the suave, collected undead vamp controlling her body, living through her for a few hours at a time.

It was about what I had expected. Serving as an undead master’s mouthpiece wasn’t safe for either party—the old vampire was reminded too strongly of what it was like to be alive and began to pine for it, and the young was given more power running through his or her mind and body to handle alone. It was a knife’s edge that only the most experienced attempted at this level, and I was starting to think that the relationship had passed the point where it could be ended safely.

Concerned, I bit my lip, wondering if the I.S. was questioning Trent about the abductions. But as I watched, I decided that though Trent had proved he could be calm even while being arrested for murder at his own wedding, he didn’t have the guarded air of someone being grilled for kidnapping. He was probably getting the real story, not the canned tripe they were feeding the reporters.

click to read the rest at the website

Kim Harrison’s last minute gift scramble

Guy and I have two distinct styles to get ready for the holiday season. Because of my work schedule, (and nature) I start shopping early, I wrap early, I bake early, and I have three blessedly calm days before Christmas. Guy on the other hand USED to be a last minute man, so bad that he told me once he shopped at a gas station for gifts on the way to a family get-together.

My calm enjoyment of the last three days before Christmas must have been getting to him, because now he’s almost as bad as me, and we are both sitting pretty, enjoying a cup of cocoa before a nice fire watching Rudoph.

However . . . for you last minute gift givers, I do have a couple of links to some e-merchandise that might help fill a Christmas stocking. Most of these are US only. Sorry about this, but because they are publisher in origin, the offers tends to be very border specific.

First, Avon is having a massive sale of romance titles from .99 to 7.99. HOLIDAYS ARE HELL is in there, which has Two Ghosts for Sister Rachel, plus three other stories from Lynsay Sands, Marjorie M. Liu, and Vicki Pettersson.  http://deckthehalls.avonromance.com/ It’s a great way to fill up any new device you might be giving, or round out your own library.

Fistful of Charms is on sale (e-book) for 1.99.  If you follow the links from here, you will get the version that has the first two chapters of EVER AFTER included. http://kimharrison.wordpress.com/2012/12/19/special-holiday-e-book-price-for-fistful-of-charms/

I also want to remind you that Nicola’s is taking on the task of offering signed and/or personalized copies of EVER AFTER. I’ve worked with Nicola’s before, and they try very hard to get them shipped out so they land on your door on the release day. Now, I know that we are still 29 days out from release, but if you want to grab the picture below, you can print it out and stick it in a stocking. http://www.nicolasbooks.com/book/9780061957918 Be sure to tell Nicola’s if you just want my signature, or signed to so-and-so with a little note at the comment box when you order or you will just get a book. International orders are okay, but please e-mail them for a shipping quote at nicolasbooks@tds.net first.

Happy Winter Solstice!

‘Twas the Night of the Solstice

by Kim Harrison

‘Twas the week before Christmas, and up in the Hollows,

Solstice bonfires were burning, to toast the marshmallows.

The pixies were snug in their stump, even Jenks,

Who claimed he was tired, and needed some winks.

 So I in my parka, and Ivy in her boots,

Were toasting the season, with thirty-year hooch.

When out in the street, there came such a crash,

I thought that it had to be ‘coons in our trash.

Away to the gate, I trudged through the snow,

While Ivy just said, “If it’s Kist, say hello.”

I lifted the latch, and peered to the street,

My face went quite cold.  We were in it thigh deep.

‘Twas a demon, who stood in the headlamps quite bright,

With his coat of green velvet, and his uncommon height.

His eyes, how they glittered, his teeth how they gnashed,

His voice, how he bellowed, his tongue, how it lashed

The street wasn’t holy, so on Big Al came,

As he bellowed, and shouted, and called me by name.

“Morgan, you witch.  You’re a pain in my side.

“Get out of your church.  There’s no place to hide!”

Like hell’s fury unleashed, he strode to my door,

Where he hammered and cursed, like a cheap jilted whore.

But Ivy and I, we circled round back,

To stand in the street and prepare for attack.

“You loser,” I shouted.  “I’m waiting for you.”

And the demon, he spun, taking on a red hue.

Ivy stood ready, and I whispered, “Okay . . .

“If he wants to get rough, I’m ready to play.”

With nary a word, us two girls got to work,

Putting foot into gut, of the soul-sucking jerk.

I circled him quick, with a few words of Latin,

While Ivy distracted him with lots of good wackin’

“Get back!” I yelled out when my trap was complete,

And Ivy somersaulted right over the creep.

My circle sprang up, entrapping him surely,

Al fussed and he fumed, like a demonic fury.

The neighbors all cheered, and came out of their houses,

Where they’d watched the whole thing, like little house mouses.

So Ivy and I, we both bowed real low,

Then banished Big Al, in an overdone show.

But I heard Al exclaim, ‘ere he poofed from our sight

“You won this time witch, but I’ll get you one night!”

Kim Harrison

December 14th, 2005