Erin Morgenstern's Blog, page 56

so what's the book about?

I've had a lot of people ask me what the book is about.

I rather like the very long sentence that Publisher's Marketplace used in the deal announcement:

Erin Morgenstern's THE NIGHT CIRCUS, set at the turn of the 19th century, which tells the story of two young magicians, pawns in an age-old rivalry between their mercurial, illusionist fathers, and the enchanted circus where their competition (and romance) plays out, leaving the fates of everyone involved – from creators and performers to patrons – hanging in the balance.

I also applaud the use of the word mercurial, which is one of my favorite words.

flax-golden tales: not that kind of letter

not that kind of letter

I wrote you a letter, on paper. It seemed more significant than an e-mail.

And this way you can't forward it to all of your friends.

I needed to say goodbye.

You might have been content to fade away, but I needed… I don't know, closure or something.

Even if you never read it.

I had to send it anyway.

I went to post it this afternoon, to let you go, finally.

There were hearts painted on the mailbox.

I sometimes think the universe is mocking me.

About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.

Eep.

Hi.

I have been completely useless. I keep squealing at people on the phone when I'm not rendered utterly speechless. At this point I think my agent would be shocked if we had a conversation that didn't partially involve stunned silence on my part. I think I EEPed at him. That's probably not very professional.

I've been trying to write. I've been trying to read. I have been failing on both counts. I have a half-finished painting on the workbench that Tessa keeps napping on.

So I've been drinking tea and wandering around the internet. I bought a pencil skirt.

And I've been reading through Allie Brosh's brilliant blog, Hyperbole and a Half. Her post on being a failure at success is so me right now it's absurd.

I am not coping well with this bit of success I seem to have come across.  It appears that my nervous system is having trouble distinguishing celebratory excitement from extreme danger.

So yeah, me in a nutshell right now, only not as blonde:

I go back and forth from hysterical giggles to near panic attack. I think the boy is concerned.

I almost don't want to post this. I want to appear all calm and cool and collected but I'm totally not. And I figure the best thing I can do is just be honest. So yeah, I'm squealing at people on the phone. A lot. I'm giddy with excitement but I'm also kind of nauseous and I feel like my life suddenly completely changed even though I haven't left my apartment.

Amusement park ride metaphors would likely be appropriate. Maybe not quite roller coaster, but that centrifuge thing that spins you back against the side of a wheel while the world tilts out from under you? Yeah, that.

If I try to get off, I'll probably just fall down. So I'm going to hold on and see what happens next.

this is not my beautiful house

A little over a week ago, when I found out my novel was going to be sent out to publishers, I bought this bottle of sparkling syrah to open if and when the book sold:

Notice how it's open.

Yeah.

I have spent most of the weekend giggling hysterically and consuming bubbly alcohol, thinking to myself: This is not my beautiful house. This is not my beautiful wife.

How did I get here?

Well, I got here by starting this novel in 2006 and not abandoning it. I got here because my wonderful husband never let me quit even when the rejections started pouring in. I got here because I have an amazing, amazing agent who spent the last year helping me make my manuscript better than I ever thought it could be when I started querying. I got here because I have a team of endlessly talented writer friends who live in my computer, who never let me give up even when the Revisionland Hotel started feeling like the Hotel California.

I spent most of last week on the phone with editors who loved my strange nocturnal black & white circus novel.

On Friday afternoon, THE NIGHT CIRCUS sold to Doubleday.

To say I am elated would be the understatement of the century. I am delighted beyond belief, and I am absolutely thrilled to be working with my editor. (My editor! It's like the my agent game all over again!)

So I lift a glass of sparkling syrah to each and every person who got me here.

Thank you does not even begin to cover it. I would knit you all red scarves were I not such a slow knitter.

Apparently, this is my beautiful house. Same as it ever was.

Kittens, as always, remain unimpressed.

flax-golden tales: advice for the sixth task

advice for the sixth task

There are only seven Tasks.

Not that many, really.

And they do not necessarily need to be accomplished in numerical order.

Truly, it would be easier to obtain the Copper Chalice (Task three) if you already possess the Cloak of Sorrow (procured in Task five, if you do it properly).

If you succeed, wonders beyond your wildest dreams shall be yours.

That is, if you manage to get past the flamingos in order to complete the sixth Task.

The flamingos defeated so many who have gone before you.

I'll give you a hint.

They're not really asleep.

And they're not really flamingos.

About flax-golden tales. Photo by Carey Farrell. Text by Erin Morgenstern.

fortune cookie kind of day