Rachael Herron's Blog, page 44

Mindfulness

I feel like I have a new toy. I really do. This whole meditation thing has clicked, and it's because I'm using guided meditation, which--for me--has been the ultimate way to learn to do it. 

Doesn't guided meditation sound so woo-woo? Like you're going to lie on your back and someone will talk to you about imagining a field of lilies while really you're just trying desperately to keep from thinking about lunch? Or maybe you'll have to chant something at the end or pretzel your limbs into a position that you haven't been able to get into for fifteen years before drinking some tea that smells like feet?

What I've been doing is a meditation class. (I have no reason or motivation to pimp this except that it's Something Rachael Loves.) Andy Puddicombe, lovely man, talks to you as sit upright in your chair with your hands on your lap. This is something you can do at your desk if no one minds you closing your eyes for ten minutes. Or at the kitchen table. Or on the couch. (I have a low settee in my office that I use.) 

Then you listen to him talk you through things for a few minutes. If you've been reading my blog a while, you know that I have energy to spare. I don't sit still, ever, unless I'm sick. But during these sessions? I just rest. My mind rests, and my body rests. 

It's amazing to find that stillness. And it's even nicer to learn how to not worry about finding that stillness. It's there, you just go visit it, you don't have to do anything but show up. You don't have to make anything work. You just sit and breathe. (Before, when I'd tried, I'd always thought meditation was so much work.) 

The program starts with a free 10 day 10-minute course, and then if you like it, you can advance to a subscription, and the next course is 15 days of 15 minutes a day. Then you get 20 days of 20 minutes a day. I'm ten days into the 20 minute course, and I can tell you this: This section has blown my MIND. 

OMG I AM SO CALIFORNIA HIPPIE RIGHT NOW but dude, if you're reading this, so are you, so light up that nag champa and sit next to me on my locally-sourced hemp chair. (Just kidding. I fucking hate the smell of nag champa. Too many drunk nights as a college student with those sticks burning. Burn some sage instead.) 

Today I learned this: Permission. I think this may be a thing you have to learn on your own and I'm sure I've read it a million times as people chronicle their own discovery, but to me, that's what this mindfulness is all about. Giving yourself permission. You allow thoughts, feelings, and sensations* to arise and fall. 

Today, in the middle of the practice, I got a TERRIBLE itch in my eye. I mean, it was the rub-it-till-it-bleeds kind of itch. I thought, Oh, no! How am I going to resist this? How am I going to ignore it? How will I stay in the meditation, following my breath? 

I thought about what I'd learned in the last month or so and just gave my eye permission to itch. I kind of rested there. Go ahead. Itch. I don't mind. And I just went on breathing. 

My eye still itched. It's not like it went away. But I didn't care. It was just a thing. Eventually my eye watered and the itch died, and then later, I noticed it was gone. 

THIS IS HUGE, PEOPLE. I IGNORED SOMETHING. I didn't twitch, scratch, fret, or tic. When I sit and write, I can get 2500 words/hour and still fix my hair into three different buns in sixty seconds. I move. 

Meditation is being still. Being present. Giving yourself permission. Holy crap. 

If you're like me, a person who can't rest, you might want to give this a try. 

And for the knitters who are still reading, a bonus photo: 

My gorgeous friends, Juliet Blackwell and Sophie Littlefield in their new shawls. I rarely knit for family, and even rarer for friends, but after my surgery last month -- even then -- I couldn't sit still. So I knitted a lot. (Super easy pattern, Shaelyn. I'm knitting my third now. It's addictive.)

 

* My least favorite sensation I get is something that I've had happen in yoga classes, too. With my eyes closed, I feel as if my head is turned, looking over my left shoulder. IT IS NOT. It's dizzy-making and I hate it. Today it happened, too, and I said, All right. Then it went away. DUDE. 

 

Blatant Bribery

 

The gist of the above video, if you don't have time to watch me and Digit perform: leave a review for any of my books, be entered into a drawing for a $50 gift certificate to the bookstore of your choice. (Doesn't have to be a good review, just an honest one. Want to leave more reviews? Each review counts as one entry. If you're looking to read one of my books for the first time, might I recommend my newest one? Cora's Heart? Drop me an email at yarnagogo at gmail to tell me you reviewed something, and I'll enter you in the drawing. I'll draw on Halloween. SPOOKY, right?)  

And thank you, SO much. 

Also: WHY DO I NEVER REMEMBER TO BRUSH MY HAIR BEFORE I MAKE THESE MOVIES! Gah. At least my lipstick was on relatively straight. 

Cora's Heart

It's here! It's finally here! 

Cora's Heart, available for the last few months in Australia and New Zealand, is now available in the US, Canada, and the UK in e-book form. 

It's not out yet in paperback, for those of you who love the feel of a real book (I do, too) -- it should be coming very soon, hopefully within the month. I was thisclose to not telling you all about the ebook versions until the paperback version was out, too, but I COULDN'T STAND IT. I had to tell you. 

See, I love this book. I really do. Wiith this book, I could actually feel my writing craft developing. I felt the characters grow under my fingertips, and I cared about them SO MUCH. I love Cora. She's neurotic and worried and likes to make contigency plans for everything. When the Big One hits, she'll be the one who will have her go-bag in the car, and she'll be carrying Advil and bandages for everyone. 

Of course, there are no contingency plans for love, especially when a large-animal vet named Mac comes back to Cypress Hollow. 

You can read an excerpt HERE if you'd like to, and I really, really hope you enjoy this visit to Cypress Hollow. 

xoxo
Rachael who is so excited she can't STAND it. 


Available here:

Amazon
Amazon UK
Kobo
Nook, iBooks, paperback to come SOON! (Make sure you're on my mailing list so you don't miss the news!) 

Winner!

The Revolution of Every Day goes to Amber D! I've emailed you privately, and thanks for entering, all!  (And for those of you who want the personalized touch on your copy of Cari's book, I happen to know she'll mail you a bookplate -- email her at cari at cariluna dot com.)

And now: I'm rushing back to get a project done by a completely arbitrary and therefore exciting deadline. I leave you with a look at how Clementine relaxes, with her ears straight out. 

Well, I suppose that's the safest way to sleep. Otherwise, you end up with sad, deflated ears and Digit vulturing you: 

And to increase your happiness level today, two songs from the new (perfect) Moby album, Innocents: 

 With Inyang Bassey -- that VOICE. 

 And this next one! With Cold Specks! Oh, this album is wonderful. Don't miss this: 

 

 

Giveaway! You Will Love This Book

Many (many!) years ago, there was blog called Dogs Steal Yarn. The writer, Cari Luna, was a knitter. She was smart and funny, and she liked me, too. We fell in, you know, as you do. I had a permanent room at their Brooklyn brownstone (until they had kids, WHATEVER) and even now, if I showed up on their doorstep on the other side of the nation, bedraggled from the Portland rain, Cari would hug me till she was as damp as I was, then she'd wrap me in handknits from the top of my head to the tip of my toes while she dried my clothes. She'd put tea in my hands, and she'd talk with that incredible voice of hers, and she would listen, and everything would be okay even if nothing was okay. 

I learn from her. All the time. She's my best friend. (Who has a best friend at 41? Me! Lucky me!) 

Cari is one of the most gorgeous writers I've ever had the luck to read. Me, I'm a good writer (I'm not putting myself down or pumping myself up -- this is just true. I'm solidly, pretty reliably good at writing). Cari is one of those Great Writers. In terms of greatness, I admire Andre Dubus (Sr.) and Alice Munro and her. 

I read almost every draft of her debut novel, which just came out from the prestigious Tin House Press. Every time I read it, the book touched me more deeply. It's one of the two books in my life that, at times while reading, I HEARD out loud. I heard that incredible last chapter.

The book is about squatters in New York City in the 90s, when the city came to evict people who were both living their lives and making a difference. The book, however, is even bigger than this ambitious plot. Sitting here in the cafe, thinking about Amelia and Gerrit and Steve and Anne, I miss them.  

I love this book. Obviously, I love Cari, but I would love this book if I didn't know her and then I'd be all fan-girl when I met her and I would freak out when I found out she was a knitter, and it would be ugly. (She's getting great reviews all over the publishing world, from BUST to Kirkus.) 

 

Cari will send a personally inscribed copy to a randomly drawn commenter on this post. Personally, I think you should just buy it. You'll love it. 

And please enjoy this excerpt, and the book trailer at the end. 

Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Powell's / Indiebound

Back at the house, Gerrit hefts his bike up onto his shoulder,
thumbs his key in the lock, and slips inside. He’s greeted by that good honest
smell of fresh lumber and plaster, and also the more worrisome smell of must
and wood rot. Over the years they’ve rebuilt most of the joists, replaced
crumbling plaster ceilings with drywall, fixed the roof. But there’s still so
much they haven’t had time or money to do, like the rear facade. It’s not
watertight; it needs repointing. Until they can get that done, water will keep
finding its way in, softening the wood around the windows, compromising the
building’s structure. Already the weather is too cold to work with mortar. If
they can hold on until spring, they’ll do it then.

            Suzie is on
the folding chair by the front door, dog-eared paperback in hand. “Nothing?”
she says.

            “Quiet.
Here, too?”

            She nods.

            Footsteps
on the stairs, Ben headed down to relieve Suzie. He has a deck of cards in
hand, and a thermos tucked under his arm. “Hey, man. Want to play?”

            “No, I’m
headed up to bed.”

            Marlowe
emerges from his first-floor apartment, coat on, ready for his shift. He’s
wearing the green scarf Amelia made for him a while back. Amelia said he cried
when she gave it to him.

            Her
knitting is like magic. She’ll take a huge old sweater bought for a dollar at
the Salvation Army, unravel it, wash the wool, and knit two smaller sweaters, a
hat, and maybe some mittens from it. Gerrit’s got a drawer full of warm socks
she’s knitted for him from recycled yarn, a scarf, two watch caps, three
sweaters. She has no idea that when you slip on that hat or scarf or sweater
she’s made for you, you feel the work of her hands in it. You feel her love for
you. That was why Marlowe cried. Gerrit gets it. He feels the same way every
time he pulls one of those hand-knit sweaters over his head. The girl thinks
she’s invisible. She has no idea, the impact she has on people. Seven years
he’s been trying to get her to see it. Maybe she never will.

 

 

OH MY GOD I LOVE THIS BOOK. Leave a comment for a chance to win. 

Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Powell's / Indiebound

Happiness Update

Remember last November when I said I was suffering from depression? That was a brutally honest post, and I can't even tell you how big (and wonderful) a reaction I got from people. I just realized that some of you might wonder how I'm doing now. 

I'm doing great. 

Yep, I'm still on the medication at a low dose. I have absolutely zero side effects. And I still feel completely normal, like I finally did when I wrote that post. I have regular day-to-day highs and lows (I got a royalty check! The cat puked on the couch!) and I'm myself. I'm still singing along to songs in the car and in the kitchen. I laugh a lot. My productivity is high. 

Taking care of myself last year was really the best thing I could have done for myself. 

Other Health Areas 

(Sleeping is the most exciting part. Skip to the end if you want to get to that.) 

Food: I'm still eating almost as well as I have been for more than a year now: only meat, eggs, vegetables and fruit (a modified anti-inflammatory diet). I try to eat no grains, beans, dairy, or processed foods, although I've fallen off the sugar wagon since my gallbladder surgery. Augh. Such a hard wagon to get back up on. Speaking of wagons, my wine consumption is way down (I realized this was all sugar, and it was messing with my moods, big time). I've also given up caffeine again, but I don't expect this one to stick because I hella heart a great big coffee with cream. Oh, now I'm yearning. 

Migraines: (I knock wood when I write this) GONE. Gone! I haven't had a migraine I couldn't trace directly to gluten since the beginning of the year. Anytime I accidentally eat gluten? (Like when I was at a friend's house and ate her couscous because I thought it was rice-based?) I get smacked with a migraine within hours. If I stay away from it, I never even get the threat of a migraine. 

Confession: This makes me feel like a great big hipster tool. *Nose in the air in the bakery*  Do you have anything gluten-free? But avoiding gluten has changed my life and has removed an enormous amount of uncontrollable pain. So I do still go all hipster about it, and try not to mind the eye rolls sent my direction. 

Meditation: OH MY GOD, I'm SO going to be a hipster tool right now. Maybe I should just accept that's what I am. Deep breath. Okay, that's done. Adjusts fedora.

So, I found this meditation app. I warned you. It's AMAZING. It's called Headspace, and they have a free Take-10 ten day trial, and then you subscribe if you like it (which I did, immediately). The subscription gives you 365 daily meditations. They're led by a British guy called Andy Puddicombe, ex-monk and circus performer (his TED talk here), whose voice and attitude everyone universally loves.

I'm learning the basics, all over again. That meditation takes actual practice, and that you can't sit down and just be good at it (which is good because I was always so BAD at it). That you can't get upset about what your brain is doing, because that just ups your anxiety level. Andy gives you things to do, and you do them, and in the process, you find yourself in the moment and not-doing. I expect at the end of the year he'll tell me to rob a bank and send him the cash, but until he does, I'm going to listen to this guy. 

The best part so far? The free sleeping meditation I found on their site! 

Sleep: See, I have trouble sleeping because of my crazy shift work. Because of my job, my going-to-bed time varies from 6pm to 2am. Every single day it varies, and I can't change that. That's a lot of stress on the body. I try not to take sleeping aids other than valerian/melatonin, etc, but every once in a while I'll get a bottle of Ambien from my doctor and I GO TO TOWN. The two addictions that I will always struggle with are cigarettes (I haven't had even a puff in eleven years but I still want one) and Ambien. If that stuff's in the house, I can't not take it. I so desperately crave sleep, and that blessed pill knocks me out so deeply that the next night I MUST HAVE IT AGAIN SO GOOD YES PLEASE. 

So yeah. I asked for Ambien for the three nights I was at the hospital, and they gave it to me (helped wonders for sleeping in pain). Then I got my Rx filled and took it every night during my recovery. That's fine. It helped. The problem comes when I stop taking it. Usually I can't sleep for a week, and it's awful and painful and I always swear I won't get any more refills and then I dooooo, but that's another story. (I know it's scary stuff, I've read all the you-will-die reports -- they don't help. I want it.) 

The first night I was off Ambien this week, I didn't sleep. At all. 

The second night, I found the above linked meditation to listen to (and I've listened to LOTS of them, they never work). I'm going to spoil it a little for you, so stop reading if you want to be surprised (?), but first Andy walks you through turning off your muscles. I've tried this on my own approximately eleventy million times, and have never succeeding. In fact (this is true), last month when I couldn't sleep, I managed to pull a butt muscle trying to turn off my muscles. It hurt for a week. But when Andy explained it to me? I could do it. 

Then? He said to count backwards from one thousand. My brain stalled. One THOUSAND? I count backward from a hundred often, and it always PISSES ME OFF because I get to one and then I'm all like WHAT NOW BEEYOTCH? If I count sheep, they get all interesting and wooly, just like my thoughts. But counting backward from a thousand? I supposed I could give it a try. 

I fell asleep somewhere around 300. And stayed asleep. 

Last night, I only got to 829. (I remember because I kept drifting away. 830! Ooh, pleasant feeling... 830, 829... ooh, this feels nice! 829... 829, um, 829...)

And again, I stayed asleep. (When I say I stayed asleep, that means I only woke six or seven times before falling right back asleep. That great sleep for me.) 

You should try it. Now my darling chickens, this has been all about me. What about YOU? 

Planning or Pansting Webinar

Attention, all writers that hang out here at Chez Yarnagogo! 

I'm going to be doing a live webinar with the NaNoWriMo people (Chris Baty, Grant Faulkner, and Tavia Stewart-Streit) next Tuesday, and you can play along! You can ask questions! You can stand on your head (we'll be able to seeeee you!). 

And don't worry if you're not a Wrimo -- we'll be talking not so much about NaNoWriMo (which is the insane fun of writing a novel in a month) as much as HOW TO GET YOUR WRITING DONE. In particular, what are the different ways of gearing up to writing, and then how to keep doing it. Are you a planner like me?  Or do you fly by the seat of your pants? (Also called "discovery writing") Or do you just stare at the screen and go, "awhp?" 

I wrote about the webinar over at their site, and I really hope you'll consider joining us (you'll get a recording if you can't be there with us on Tuesday). It'll be 90 minutes of goofy good stuff, with LOTS of useful information. And it would be fun to hang out. (Don't tell them, but I'm planning to knit during the session. It sure would be nice to have a few others doing the same in the audience.) 

Also: 

Dear Fairy Godmother, 

The Night of Writing Dangerously is coming up.  YOU DON'T HAVE TO SEND ME AND MY SISTER AGAIN. You really don't. We don't expect you to. 

But if you want to, I'll wear fairy wings that night in your honor. 

love,

Rachael 

(who, two hours after posting this, now knows she'll be wearing wings to the Ball. Thank you, darling fairy godmother. love love love.) 

Easy, Cool Dinner Party

Last night, we hosted THE EASIEST HOT NIGHT DINNER PARTY EVER. I wanted to share the recipes with you in case you wanted to host a party that would look like it came out of Sunset magazine, even if you're still recovering from surgery and maybe should have gone a little easier on yourself. (Do they even sell Sunset anyplace but California? Is this a West Coast reference only? If so, it's a cutural reference for grown-up, interesting nights out on patios that don't look real, nights no one really has. Except for last night.) 

First of all, I'd been planning on making red thai curry but by ten A. M. it was almost ninety degrees out. Lala mentioned maybe I should make something like gazpacho. Or possibly just ice cubes. Lots of ice cubes. The party got more complex as I had to figure out how to keep everyone out of the house, which holds on to heat like pills on cheap cashmere. We have a nice porch, but there's no big table out there, so guests would be balancing food on their knees.

But that made me think. See, I took the plunge a few weeks ago  and bought a Vitamix (right about the time I got the gallbladder problems -- IS THERE A CONNECTION?). Yep. I bought one. I really did. I wrapped all my change that I'd saved for years (this is true) and by the time a good friend got me an amazing deal, it was pretty much paid for. (Best part about a Vitamix? It cleans itself. And how.) 

So yesterday, I thought, cold soup! In the Vitamix! A little bit of Googling took me to this cucumber-dill soup recipe which turned out to be freaking amazing. I served it in lowball glasses, which made lap-balancing a non-issue. 

Copyright Williams-Sonoma

That soup? Completely made ahead and refrigerated. Perfect and chilled. Also, I didn't wear pants in the kitchen while I made it because I didn't have to. People - stay cool, at any cost! Heat is dangerous! Take off your pants! T-shirt and underwear is plenty hygienic for a kitchen! (It is, right? I mean, I'd just be wearing a skirt anyway, which is basically the same thing . . . oh, whatever. Let's just forget about this conversation. Hydrate, people.) 

Main course? We fell back on our favorite chicken recipe. Basically, this really is the best grilled chicken on salad you will ever, ever have. People freak out about this chicken. You brine it early, so that's chilling in the fridge, too. Basically, when people come over, all you have to do is rub on the spice mix (premade, also while standing in front of the fan while not wearing pants), and give it to the Grill Person (Lala) to cook. While she's doing that, put spring mix and (pre)chopped green onions on guests' plates. Add the lemon juice and oil to the OTHER spice mix you (pre)made for the Moroccan Dipping Sauce (same recipe page). Chicken's done? Chop one breast per person, perch on salad, drizzle with dipping sauce, and there! A knee-balance dinner that is gobsmackingly delicious. 

Dessert? No problem. Fire up the grill once more for a few minutes, scrape off that char, and make

Grilled Peaches and Vanilla Ice Cream with Balsamic Vinegar Glaze. 

Confession: we own a chocolate balsamic vinegar (which is to die for) that I use for this. But you can use any good quality balsamic for the same intensely wonderful results. 

Halve (good quality, firm but ripe) peaches, one half per person. Set face down in a plate of balsamic vinegar so that the cut sides absorb the deliciousness. Let rest for ten minutes. Turn over on plate, dust each cut side with a bit of brown sugar. You'll know how much. Grill on low, 2 minutes(ish) on each side. Hope for those lovely grill marks. 

Serve with a little scoop of good vanilla ice cream. At the last minute, have the genius idea of drizzling a little of that brown-sugar vinegar glaze that was still lying sad and abandoned on the original plate over the ice cream -- just a little trickle. Then watch your guests go dreamy and fuzzy around the edges as they eat, melting into their chairs in happiness. 

Let me repeat, I did not overheat having this dinner party. There was very little sweat on my part (a MIRACLE -- I hate hot days). And I spent 95% of my time on the porch in the warm (but not hot) air, with my friends, talking. Not scurrying around the kitchen.

And that, really, was the best part. The talking. That was the Sunset moment. White twinkle lights shone through the flowers along the porch rail, and up in the deep blue night sky we could see the flashing lights of passing planes. Chris and Wendy rocked on the swing, threatening to steal our dog, Clementine. Grant and Heather told stories of the viciousness of the PTA. Lala was charming and funny and a great griller. And I got to bask in the fact that this was my life. Those intense in-the-moment feelings of gratitude, those are the moments that mean everything. What a gift. 

And then, there are peaches. Damn, how lucky I am. 

 

Some Gall

I had to call 911 on myself. If you follow me on FB or twitter, you already know this, but I'm still not quite over it. I've had six surgeries in my life, and multiple weird emergency room-type problems. But the very last thing a dispatcher/firefighter/cop ever wants is to be transported to the hospital by his/her peers. 

So when I say that last Thursday, I called down the hall to get my firefighters to come check on me, I was BEYOND HORRIFIED. I had terrible abdomen and chest pains, and I was pale, sweating, and shaking. The only thing I wanted to do was lie down and let it pass. But I was scared. Mostly, I don't get scared over physical problems, even when I should. But this one frightened me.

After the rookiest-of-the-rookies (he only has 2 weeks on) hooked up the 12-lead to my chest (over my best bra, THANK GOD -- it also happens to be my most comfortable, which is why I wear it on 48-hour shifts), the crew said they needed to take me to the hospital. I started crying, and it was only partially from fear and pain. Mostly, it was because I was getting put in the ambulance I send to people. I send it. I don't ride it. 

The guys were good. They were reassuring. I'm proud to work with them, because I know they treat everyone as kindly as they treated me, even though they let the rookie put in my IV (he did fine.) They also gave me morphine, for which I will always love them. 

Turns out I was having a gallbladder attack. Very prosaic. Happens all the time. The ER sent me home to watch and wait, surgery scheduled for two weeks out (it's the most common surgical procedure in the States). 

I only made it two days before my gallbladder started getting infected, and holy helen, was I sick. I spent three days in the hospital, and while I know logically that hospitals are terrible places to be, it was another thing altogether to learn it firsthand. The nurses are trying their best, but they are overwhelmed. It was frustrating and nerve-wracking, and it made me grateful for every kindness they showed me. They didn't have to be nice. But they were. 

The surgery was done on Sunday, and I was home by Monday night. I'm lucky in that I already had vacation scheduled (to go to Yosemite to the Strawberry Festival, which was then cancelled due to the Rim Fire, which is good, because if I can't go, NO ONE CAN GO), so I don't feel guilt about putting out my coworkers. 

(Also: can we just talk about belly buttons for a minute? This is the THIRD surgery I've had which required the belly button to be what was basically a door flap in my tummy. I hate that everyone is like, "Oooh! Take a peek in here! Easy access!" I need a better lock on that thing. Maybe an alarm. Belly button alarm!) 

Now I'm overjoyed to be at the place I love to be. Home. This is where I belong, fighting to keep cats off my abdomen and listening to dogs bark at people who dare to breathe outside. 

But I took a break from all that to open this text box to write to you, my darling reader. I wanted to tell you funny things about being in the hospital, silly things about how much I loved swapping lipstick advice with the nurses. But really, I just wanted to say hi. This enforced slow-down? The fact that I can't just get up and run hard all day as I usually do kind of freaks me out. It's good for me, though. It reminds me to say hello to YOU. 

I always say that I want a stay-cation even though it's almost beyond my powers to actually lie low. Now I have one. I'm doing my best to enjoy it. I just made the biggest spinach smoothie EVER and drank it all. I'm listening to Vespers (Tell Your Mama). Next, I'm going to watch a movie or two. Maybe back to back. And knit. I also, of course, have three or four books cued up on my e-reader, and I'm going to read till the words wobble. 

Tomorrow, more of the same (though I might write. I can't promise I won't). 

For your enjoyment, here's a taste of Vespers, a 4-person family band. Who doesn't love a family band? 

 

Cover Reveal!

Y'all, I think this is my most gorgeous cover ever. 

PACK UP THE MOON is the book coming out in March (available for preorder now at Amazon, B&N, and Powells). 

I mean, really, could you just DIE? This is the book that should come with a box of Kleenex (I'm working on making that happen) and I could almost cry just looking at it. I love this book. 

And in other big news, CORA'S HEART, the fourth book in the Cypress Hollow series, will be available to US/UK/Canada readers next month (exact date to follow, but it will be in September for sure -- make sure you get my newsletter!). I like its
cover, too.
 

Eeeeeeee. This is a really exciting time, folks. I have the best two jobs in the world. I'm actually not sure which makes my heart beat faster, writing The End, or saying, "911, what's the address of your emergency?" 

Okay, I do know. Writing The End is a big more exciting. I've been doing the 911 thing long enough my heart only races if a child is involved in the call (isn't that odd? True, though. Most cops/firefighters/dispatchers all react the same way -- help is just help, everyone moves as fast as they can until it's a kid, and then it's GO GO GO GO FASTER THAN YOU POSSIBLY EVER COULD!)

Also: I'm working on the synopsis for the next Kleenex book, and I swear, just writing my ideas in Excel made me cry in the cafe. It's GONNA BE GOOD. 

Yay. Just yay.