Robin McKinley's Blog, page 150

The beginning of 16 November a day late

 

I barely got out of bed this morning.  I had foresightfully set the alarm/kitchen timer and when it went off I opened one eye in a disbelieving manner.  You.  Must.  Be.  Joking.  I spent the morning (okay, what remained of the morning) thinking I should email Niall that I'll never make it to handbells tonight—no, Wednesday is not handbell evening, but it is for Niall*.  And he'd handed me some clunker on a plate about his Wednesday evening ringers being absent . . . all but one poor sad lonely fellow in Aberystwyth or the Isle of Wolverines or something and how I could make the lives of two despondent handbell junkies full of joy and light if I would sacrifice just one Wednesday evening . . . all right, I said, just stop going on about it.**  The point here is that if I cancelled, he and Theophrastus would revert to wretchedness and withdrawal symptoms.  Gah.

            So to give myself a sort of run at mental function and so forth I decided to get on with ordering the rest of my Met Live HD tickets.***  And discovered that you can't just click on the Met Live link, tick off your operas, choose your seats and go . . . you have to go through the entire dranglefabbing ordering process for each individual opera.†   I was so outraged I even rang the theatre and said, I'm missing something, right?  This can't be how you're expecting people to do it.  Yes, said the young man blandly, you have to order each one separately.  Pass it on up the line to your manager that this system is stupid and nuts, will you please? I said.  Will do, said the young man, still bland.

            So I went through the whole idiot show seven times.††  Plus the times you have to go back and do it again because you left something out.  ARRRRRGH.  Adrenaline was flowing nicely by the end of this performance, the presence of which will substitute for the higher cortical operations on the days after birthday parties and other such situations, so I did move on to get some work done.

            Got back to the cottage with hellhounds with a few minutes to spare before Niall would pick me up and decided to check what was on my phone machine.†††  Message from my credit card company:  Please get in touch immediately.  Second adrenaline spike of the day.  Not good.  So I rang up and promptly was embroiled in the whole prove-you're-who-you-say-you-are rigmarole, oh, gods, I wonder what memorable date I gave them?  Clearly not memorable enough.  She finally asked me a sekrit question I could answer, and then revealed that their fraud division had been disturbed by the seven rapid-fire transactions to the Mauncester cinema this morning.  ARRRRRRRRRRGH.

            Niall was parked in the street reading a book‡ by the time I ran down my little hill and hurled myself into his passenger seat.  And we shot off into the night to rescue a miserable jonesing handbeller from himself.  I had been allowed to form the impression—Niall is a master of misdirection‡‡—that Theophrastus used to ring a little many years ago but is really getting into this time and needs encouragement.  We got there and turns out that Theophrastus has been ringing handbells every day with a Saturday matinee since about 1840‡‡‡ and he and Niall seized their bells like Mario Andretti grasping a steering wheel and GEEZUM CRACKERJACKS, GUYS, I CAN'T RING THIS FAST.  I'm the bicycle, okay?  I ain't no frelling Formula One.

            So.  We're going to have a birthday series.  Item one:  the sofa. §           

* * *

* All evenings are handbell evenings to Niall.  He's just sometimes prevented from fulfilling his destiny. 

** Meanwhile thank the gods—okay, the bell gods don't hate me as much as I thought—that I had innocently booked Peter and me tickets to an opera in Whortleberry next Wednesday.  There's a quarter peal to celebrate the five hundredth anniversary of the siege of Bindlefugg^ and six bishops and a cassowary are coming to the service next Wednesday and Vicky's been told off to find a band.  Midweek rings are hard:  not all ringers are past retirement age.^^  She's so desperate she's asked me. 

^ You know this story.  It was raised at last by a ten-year-old girl who was the only person thin, brave and silly enough to squeeze through an arrow slit and then slither on her belly and elbows through the enemy line and bolt for it.  There's still a statue to her on the green. 

^^ Some of us are free lance. 

*** I have in fact been trying to do this since Saturday night and the sodding ratbag theatre has been renovating its frelling web site.   All flaming week.   

† And this is after they renovated their web site, you know?  

†† If anyone is counting, I'm not going to Nixon in China.  I've seen it once.  Honour is satisfied. 

††† I was hoping to hear back from my dog minder.  Siiiiiiiiigh. 

‡ Paper.  Pages that rustle when you turn them. 

‡‡ He was born in the Year of the Snake.  I rest my case. 

‡‡‡ He's extremely well preserved for his age. 

§ Oooh, I said (yesterday).  Peter said, you know about four of them and the fifth one is a mistake.^ 

^ Wrong.  About the mistake.

A Very Merry Unbirthday

 

Yep.   It's my birthday.*  But it's late** and I'm . . . um . . . drunk***.  And Melissa Marr's interview with me went live today and since I follow her and she tweeted it I retweeted and it's just too silly not to put it up here today too.   Which is a really good excuse and I reminded myself of it as I tipped the last of the champagne down my throat.  You really don't want to waste it.

http://melissa-writing.livejournal.com/408020.html

We'll have November 16 a day late tomorrow.  With gratuitous photos of vivid and explicit birthday presents. ****

***

* Well, it was my birthday.  It's past midnight again.  It keeps doing that when I'm not looking.

** Duh.

*** Elderly Newbery-award-winning-author drunk!   Video footage of extreme depravity captured on YouTube!  There was champagne involved!  And not only champagne but claret!  How the mighty role models are fallen!  They may even be rolling around on the floor singing!

**** Some of them are pink.

Loss

 

Okay, here's my immediate personal seriously sucky news of the week.

            I met Jenny while hellhounds and I were out hurtling today.  Some of you will remember Jenny.  She has a horse farm/stables/yard at Ditherington.  I rode her gorgeous mare Connie for—was it about a year?  I'm pretty sure both the beginning and the end were recorded in this blog—until the ME started letting me know in fairly graphic terms that I couldn't ride regularly, week after week . . . and there's no frelling point to riding any other way than regularly.  At least not at my age and when I've done enough riding and hanging out with horses in years past that I'm not interested in anything less than a relationship, and preferably a training relationship, with an individual horse, in which one or the other of you and probably both are learning stuff you didn't know before.   I miss riding.  I miss hanging out with horses, but while Jenny always says I'm welcome to stop around any time, it seems so pathetic when I can't ride. 

            I miss Connie.

            Connie was lovely.  She was a Connemara/thoroughbred cross, which is a popular breeding because it produces a lot of good horses.  She was one of them.  She could do anything if you asked her nicely—she was positive and willing and clever, a 'schoolmaster' (or perhaps schoolmistress), as they call such horses, without being a push-button robot.  She paid attention, and if you didn't ask correctly, you didn't get what you thought you wanted.  She also needed your help:  she couldn't do it alone.  She engaged.  She was right there for you.

            She had an accident out one day in the field, no one knows what or how, the same harmless, as-much-as-anyone-ever-can-horse-proofed field she spent all her days in.  And had to be put down. 

            She can't have been more than her mid to late teens.  She should have had another ten years of teaching humans to ride—Jenny's son was due to have her when he outgrew his pony—and some years after that of being a pasture ornament.

            So I'm going to post a few Romantic Hampshire photos here, some of which may contain hellhounds, and go to bed sadly. 

All Singing. Not All Dancing.

 

There had better be nothing happening tomorrow.  Nothing, okay?  N o t h i n g. *   I want to hurtle hellhounds, drink too much tea, open the PEG II file and recognise what I find there**, talk to Merrilee***, write another blog entry and go to bed†.   I'm tired of the endless shiny excitements of recent days.††  I want predictable!  I want familiar!

            I'd managed to forget that I had my first proper rehearsal of the Octopus and the Chandelier today.  At least this time I checked my diary before I stretched out on the sofa with two hellhounds and six[teen] books.  But since service ring was late today for Remembrance Sunday††† the rest of my life ran late too.  I managed to stuff down about half my lunch before I ran off to rehearsal and was still about ten minutes late and . . .

            . . . um . . .

            . . . er . . .

            I'm telling myself it's educational.  I wanted to broaden my musical horizons.  Well, broaden some frelling horizons or other.  I think possibly what I learnt today is that I'm not a musical kind of girl.  The problem with the back row of the chorus is that you sit around doing NOTHING an awful lot.  I'm not enormously talented at the sitting around and doing of nothing.‡  In fact it made me fairly nuts.  And no, this does not mean I'm trying out for a principal's role next time.‡‡  I'm back row of the chorus because that's where this voice belongs.  I suppose it might conceivably mean that when this is all over I'll try a little harder to find that nice local chorus that can use a lacklustre mezzo‡‡‡.  Oh, where is the eleven-person choral group seeking a twelfth when you want them?

            And thank the gods§ that I went for 'singing only'.  I hadn't fully grasped the implications of 'professional choreographer.'  I suppose I thought a professional was licensed to use a cattle prod on amateurs, and that the shepherding from one side of the stage to the other would be done smartish.  But—yeep—this woman has ideas.  I think she watched too much Busby Berkeley at an impressionable stage of her development.§§  But she had the principals and the poor beggars who signed up for dancing walloping across the floor like Fred and Ginger§§§ . . . on a bad day.  On a very very very bad day.  Yowzah.  If our fearless leader and her minions hadn't been wandering around looking relaxed and interested and saying things like 'oh, it's always Krakatoa and sinking the Bismarck at this point' I might be worried.  But . . . the cast have to learn all that and sing too?   I am too old to take on learning any more new skills.#   I can just about cope with two hellhound leads while shouting.  Choreographic grapevines, shunts and canons and singing are beyond me.  But I wouldn't mind being in the blokes' chorus.##

      ***

* Barring a film option offer of $1,000,000,000,000 for PEGASUS.  Hell, I'll throw in PEG II for $1,000,000,000,000.  I wouldn't mind if that happened tomorrow.^ 

^ Just so long as they promised not to make it.  But option money . . . fab.  Yes please.  I'll finally get that new door for Third House. 

** I think that falls into the 'prayer' category rather than the 'to do' category 

*** We have a situation in which I want several people dead or at least permanently exiled to Betelgeuse.   Merrilee gets to talk me out of trying to accomplish this myself.^ 

^ Those hammering noises, as of someone building a rocketship in their back garden?  Whatever can you mean?  

† I might go bell ringing tomorrow night.  Ahem.  But that doesn't really count.  Why doesn't it really count?  Um.  Because I usually go bell ringing on Monday nights? 

†† Remember I'm old.  'Shiny' and 'excitement' are relative.  I'm the woman who got excited by sparkly socks.  

††† But I'm still short of sleep 

‡ Why didn't I bring a book?  Very good question.  I asked myself that repeatedly over the course of the three hours.  But it had seemed sort of pathetic to schlep my entire knapsack—with book, and I never seem to be reading small slim paperbacks—to back row of the chorus rehearsal.  I had just put Pooka in a pocket and bolted.  At least there was Pooka.  Pooka and, what's more, itty bitty earphones.  I got desperate enough I fired up Mobel and rang handbells with my thumbs for a while although the sound of other people singing and that frelling piano was very distracting.  

‡‡ AAAAAUGH 

‡‡‡ There were two blokes and about twenty women.^  The woman sitting next to me started singing the men's chorus parts too, so I joined her.  In the proper register, mind you, none of this octave-higher stuff.  We made rather good blokes. 

^ plus an enthusiastic rabble of small-to-medium children 

§ and muses, especially Euterpe 

§§ She's also so young and perky I feel my inner Shub-Niggurath stirring. 

§§§ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mxPgplMujzQ&feature=related 

# My thumbs are sore.  And I've just bought Beltower.  Which is another frelling ringing ap.  This is all, all Tilda's fault.  Okay, I admit I asked her to bring it with her, but she didn't have to be so zealous about it.  The exciting^ new thing about Beltower is that it has little cartoon people pulling on its tower ropes.  Those of us ringers entirely lacking in talent tend to be over dependent on ropesight, which is to say looking around frantically to see the person you're next supposed to follow (remember that your position in the row changes pretty much every stroke, so for every stroke you're usually following a different bell too).  Ropesight includes watching people raise their hands to grab the rope.  Abel, the simulator programme I've got, just has the ropes twitching from hand to backstroke.  It's one thing too many that isn't like being in a bell tower, and I've never been able to use the wretched thing.^^  

            Friday night in honour of Tilda's presence we went to the pub after practise.  Usually people with lives and other inessentials are members of the party and the conversation becomes general.  Not this time.  There were four of us—Tilda and I, and Niall and Edward—and we sat around Tilda's laptop and geeked over Beltower.  I enjoyed it a lot.

^ There's that word again 

^^ Mobel's handbell division and I are, however, warily becoming closer acquainted.  I got through a plain course of bob major even with that piano racket this afternoon.

##  Especially if it meant I got to wear a tux or a dinner jacket in the show.  But I think I have learnt something useful: that I'm interested in singing.  That I'm not particularly interested in all the theatre part.^   

            Sigh.  I wonder if the Cherub has run off to Florida?

 ^ Unless they wanted to tackle Sweeney Todd.  Mmmmmm.  Mrs Lovett.  Mmmmmm.  Hey, a girl can dream.

Opera HD

 

Hey.  I have to write a blog post tonight.  I may have forgotten how.  Oops.

            I was also thinking today, with this blog prospect looming, that there are two kinds of days:  days when you have lots to write about, and are pretty much too tired by Blog Time to view the task with any enthusiasm . . . and days that you don't have lots to write about and therefore view the blog task with no enthusiasm whatsoever*.  After several days of prancing around the landscape flinging interview links carelessly over my shoulder for blog posts like Isadora Duncan and scarves** I'm positively cracking at the seams with potential blog stuff . . . which will have all leaked away by tomorrow through those gaping middle-aged seams.  So let me make a grab at the most recent which is also to say the reason I'm starting writing after frelling midnight and writing at midnight is not a good thing.  Especially not on a Saturday night before service ring Sunday morning.

            Peter and I went to our first Live at the Met HD tonight—which means opera at your very own local cinema, supposing your cinema is cool and classy*** enough to offer it.  http://www.metoperafamily.org/metopera/broadcast/hd_events_template.aspx?id=11964

I'm a pretty much instant slavering convert† and am planning to buy tickets for everything tomorrow††.  Tonight was Anna Netrebko††† in Don Pasquale and it was delicious. ‡   Next month is Don Carlo.  In January . . . mmmm.  And it goes on.‡‡   And . . . I need to remember that live live, as opposed to streamed-from-several-thousand-miles-away live, is its own thrill, because for a quarter what a ticket to Grange Park Opera costs, or about a sixteenth of what a ticket to the Royal costs including frelling train fare‡‡‡, not only can you just slope off to this thing in your hellhound-hairy jeans§, but at this theatre anyway you get a free glass of fizz.  And as cheap fizz goes, it's rather good fizz.  I was sitting there tonight minding my own business and drinking my cheap fizz when a little old lady§§ came and sat down beside me and started telling me that her favourite colours were pink and black.  Oh! I said.  Mine too!  Whereupon we looked each other over carefully.  She was wearing a variety of browns and dark reds§§§, and I am wearing blue and purple.  One meets such interesting people at the opera.  Even if they aren't wearing black and pink and have hellhound hair on their jeans.

            And speaking of interesting people . . . I met a bell ringer.#  And Peter met a bridge player.  Neither of them was wearing jeans, although my bell ringer's tweeds were pretty hairy. 

            But Anna and Mariusz (and Matthew and John) couldn't see my denim knees.  They just sang away.  And sang and sang.##  I love opera.  I love the Met Live. ### I can't wait for Don Carlo next month.  And if I don't go to bed now I won't be able to find my bell rope tomorrow. 

* * *

*Although there are two further subdivisions of this latter kind of day:  when it's been lovely and peaceful and you've got just normal type stuff done like you're a normal person^ . . . and when you've been bored silly.^^  Oh, and a third kind:   when you've been writing your brains out and have no words lef . . . . In such a situation you have to take out a mortgage.  And those beggars at OED^^^ central are mean. 

^ In honour of Bell Friend, whom we are going to call Tilda+, I hoovered the floor last Thursday before she arrived.  Hoovering is normal, isn't it?  There are also times when I can do without being normal. 

+ Whom I suspect of being a clean freak.=  Her car is terrifyingly clean.  And I'm pretty sure I saw her grow pale when she was obliged to climb into Wolfgang.  Although that may have more to do with the hellhound noses that immediately shot over the seat back.  Ooooh!  People at our level!  —I don't understand why hellhounds don't love the car.   Maybe we don't have enough visitors.  Maybe I should clean the car.  No.  Let's not get drastic here.

= Hi, Tilda!  It was at this point I decided not to use your real name!

^^ Since I don't do bored silly, I have to be compelled by circumstance.  Filing.  Taxes.  Hoovering.

^^^  http://www.oed.com/

** Only more carefully and not at high speed

*** Yes.  I said COOL.  And CLASSY.  You don't like opera?  You poor thing.

† In spite of the serious cramp in both neck and back from trying to lie down in my seat.  We were too close to the screen—these were the seats I could get—so I slithered down and put my knees up against the (empty) seat in front of me:  which you can do for several hours when you're fourteen.  Not so much when you are fifty-eight.  I've probably wrecked Rajan's good osteopathic works this morning and now I'll have to be crippled for the next month till I see him again.  Having stapled me to his insufficiently padded treatment table, clomped all over me with hob-nailed Official Ostepathic Treatment Boots™, he was testing for bits that hadn't been Fully Penetrated and remarked in tones of astonishment that I had very good hip mobility.  I tell myself that being ministered to by people who are a lot younger than I am is going to happen more and more.  But I could do without the astonishment.  Let me demonstrate how fast a little old lady can turn cranky. 

†† It will be a good thing to do tomorrow because I am clearly going to be very short of sleep.  And I still have an interview and a half to write.  Gaaaah. 

††† http://www.annanetrebko.com/  However this is my new hero:  http://www.mariuszkwiecien.com/index.html

‡ In spite of the back ache.  Never mind.  I'm sure a good ring is all I need.  And speaking of the walking wounded and the potentially therapeutic (or not) effect of tower ringing, I received this email a few hours ago from one of the friends I have contributed to the downfall of by helping introduce them to bells:

After a good morning's ringing outing, on getting out of the car…I shut the end of my right forefinger in the car door. And my first thought was 'oh gods, now I might not be able to ring for Sunday service tomorrow'.

           So tomorrow may be the story of 'Nine-fingered Alicia and the Ring of Doom'.

‡‡ Placido Domingo in Gluck!  Bryn Terfel in Wagner!  Yeeeep!

‡‡‡ I'm one of these tedious people who doesn't want to go at all if I can't have a good seat.  My idea of good is . . . front row.  Although preferably not bang behind the conductor.  Conductors are too wiggly.

§ Which if you're planning on spending the evening with your knees higher than your head, is a good thing

§§ I should perhaps say another little old lady.  One thing that was not totally cool about the evening is that I was about the youngest person there.  I saw two women who were probably in their forties, me . . . and a lot of bus-pass holders, including those who'd been renewing their bus passes for quite a few years already.  One of the many, many things I get cranky about (as per the PW interview) is the whole 'oh, the younger generation(s) are hopeless' thing.  But I do worry that bell ringers and opera goers are an ageing and endangered population.  Er.  Populations.  I don't know a lot of opera-going bell-ringers.  Although Niall has been known to go to the opera, led on a short chain by his loving wife Penelope.

§§§ And really great striped socks with glittery edges.

# It does happen.  Although we were amazed to see each other.  I didn't think bell ringers went to the opera! we said simultaneously.

##Especially Mariusz.

### Why has it taken me YEARS to get this far???  Okay, in my defense, I've seen most of the Met HD on Sky Arts.  And my own cheap fizz is better cheap fizz.  But the cinema screen and the sound . . .

Publishers Weekly asks me questions

 

YES IT'S ANOTHER LINK.  I'm so bad.

http://twurl.nl/meco35

This is the only proper mouth-not-fingers interview of the stuff I've been giving you links to.  It gave me the jumps big time because they just transcribe whatever drivel you've rabbited forth with and then edit it down to the number of words they want.   You don't see it till after they publish it.  You could say I recognise some of what I thought I said here.  Merrilee says it's a good interview though so I'll shut up about it.

            And I now have to go to BED despite the (comparative) earliness of the hour.  I seem to have volunteered Bell Friend and me to help Vicky ring up the New Arcadia bells tomorrow morning at 9 am.  Do you know how EARLY 9 am is?   It might as well be Sunday.   But it is in fact Remembrance Sunday this week and there's all kinds of extra-fancy stuff laid on and we need to get the bells rung up in advance.   I wonder which one of us slender willowy girls gets to ring up our whacking great tenor. . . .

            PS:  Keep scrolling for Black Bear's latest PEG party update, including those parties happening this weekend.  Hey, there might be one in your area.  And if there isn't, you could start one.

Pegasus Release Celebration Update 7 (by Black Bear)

PRC RUNNING LIST

as of November 12, 6pm EST

Remember, if you have any questions or want to be put in touch with the organizer of one of these get-togethers but aren't on our forum, PLEASE email me at whiteape [at] whiteape [dot] net and I'll get you taken care of!

****Happening THIS WEEKEND!*****

Boston/Worcester/Nashua/Providence area –Saturday November 13, in Lowell, MA. There will be a visit to the New England Quilt Museum at 11 am (note new later time), followed by a lunchtime tea at cgbookcat1′s house–seriously, go look at the menu, these folks are planning tea sandwiches and florentines and things.  All are welcome! Post in the thread or email me to be put in touch with Gryphyn for directions. Organizer: Gryphyn.

Vancouver BC, Canada — Saturday, November 13, 3 pm. Aphrodite's Pie Company, West 4th and Dunbar, Vancouver.  In the true spirit of Robin's blog, the time was shifted to accommodate an attendee who has opera tickets. :)*   Organizer: Kim A

Knoxville, Tennessee — Sunday November 14, 4 – 5:30 pm, at a private residence but all McKinley fans in East TN are welcome to attend! It's in the Fountain City area near the Duck Pond, and you can contact our organizer for directions. dkarchdeacon [at] gmail [dot] com.  Delicious pound cake is promised! Organizer: boddhi_d

Upcoming Worldwide

Manhattan – Friday, November 19, 6pm. Irving Place Coffee in Manhattan.  Organizer: Kathy L., via email.

 

Central Indiana –Saturday November 20, 1:30 –3:30 pm in the cafe at the Clearwater Crossing Barnes and Noble.  They're having a book fair that day–extra added incentive to come!  Cupcakes from The Flying Cupcake may possibly make an appearance. Organizer: Black Bear

Anchorage, Alaska – Saturday November 20, time and location TBD.  Book club meeting, but others are welcome!  Organizer: Corrie

Kansas City – Saturday, November 20, 6-8 pm at the Country Club Plaza Barnes and Noble.  The store will be providing snacks!  Organizer:  Jeanne Marie

***NEW**** Burbank/LA — Saturday, November 27, 8:30 am at the Porto's in Burbank. All are welcome!  We don't have a thread for this–please contact the organizer via email at winterois [at] hotmail [dot] com if you're interested. Organizer: Alex C., via email.

Invercargill, New Zealand–November 28, 7:30 pm. 181 Tay St., Invercargill.  This is a writers group meeting, but other book lovers are welcome! Organizer: Zerlina.

Quebec, Canada – November 29, 1 pm, at a private home; more people are welcome!!  For details, please email Bonnie at b_dmccallum@hotmail.com Organizer: Holmes44

Toronto ONT, Canada — December 3, 7 pm at the Select Bakery, 405 Donlands Ave. Organizer: Manga

Denver Metro area – December 4, 2:30 pm at the downtown Tattered Cover.  Meet at the entrance on the 16th St. mall side.  Organizer: Catlady

East-Central Illinois – Saturday, December 11, 1 – 4 pm.  Urbana Free Library, Urbana Illinois.  Cupcakes will be provided!  For more info on the event, you can click here. Organizer: Rhymeswithcarrot

San Francisco Bay area – Saturday, December 11, 3:30 pm at  Crixa Cakes in Berkeley. Organizer: Equus_Pedus

Melbourne, Victoria, Australia —December 11, a picnic in Kamesburgh Gardens at 3 pm. There will be loads of delicious food, blankets, chairs, a card table, and there's a service ring in the nearby bell tower at 5:30. Organizer: B-Twin_1

Sacramento — Saturday, December 18. 3pm at the Borders Books on Fair Oaks Blvd. in Sacramento. Organizer: Sarahkp

Chicagoland – probably at a location in Schaumburg, date/time is under discussion.  Organizer: Apple

Los Angeles/Orange Co – proposed for late December, no location/time as yet.  Organizer: Peanut

Dallas – Proposed in forum for late December, several responses but no firm date/time yet. Organizer: livvispatula

Birmingham, England — the Birmingham Waterstones, time/date TBD. Organizer: Southdowner

Oslo, Norway — proposed in forum, one response suggesting late December.  Organizer: Re Williams

Proposed PRCs

I'm condensing the ones that haven't had recent activity on the forum, just to get these blog entries a little less lengthy.  If you're interested in one of these locations, please post in the forum threads or email me and I'll put you in touch!

***NEW PROPOSAL IN FORUM**** Edinburgh/St. Andrews, Scotland

Central NY/Northern PA/Toronto

Baton Rouge

Phoenix

Boston/Brookline

Florida Panhandle

Rexburg, Idaho

Kent, England

Christchurch, NZ

Barcelona, Spain

*  Yaaay!

Yet another link

 

Yep.  Skiving off again.  

http://charlotteslibrary.blogspot.com/2010/11/pegasus-inteview-with-robin-mckinley.html

 And this one is long even by my standards. 

            It also went live yesterday, drat it, because I already had the RT link for yesterday—the publishing world is supposed to revolve around me and my blog, don't they get that?—and I've got another one for tomorrow which went up today, but that's Too Bad.  I'm not going to waste it just because there's a slight pile-up.  So if you've seen any of them before I post them here, keep it to yourself, okay?

            And then maybe I'll get round to telling you about introducing a new bell friend from a nice, organised part of the country to the anarchy and disarray that is ringing around here. 

* * *

* Malingering, shirking, bunking off.  One of those splendid British terms no English speaker should be without.

Another link-blog

 

 http://www.rtbookreviews.com/genre/young-adult

And for those of you as technically challenged as I am, you want to click on 'Read a Message from the Author'.  You can click on anything else that strikes your fancy, of course, but the bit that I'm counting as tonight's blog is there.

Meanwhile I'm finishing an interview/chat with Melissa Marr and there are two more guest blogs in the pipeline.   I don't know if marketing is going to spring any more on me or not, of course, but tonight I think I'll play the piano and go to bed.

Our Story So Far…

Guest blog from Black Bear, with contributions from Mirkat and forthewords!

Once upon a time back in July, it occurred to me that it might be fun to harness the power of Robin's website and forum to drum up a little extra excitement and fun around the release date of Pegasus.  I spent rather a lot of time thinking about how this might work; I then spent rather more time emailing back and forth with interested parties (Robin, Robin's agent, Robin's publisher, my fellow moderators) to see how THEY thought this might work… and suddenly it was October, and Pegasus loomed close.  So the idea of the Pegasus Release Celebration was launched on the blog, a scant week before the book came out, and before I knew it we had multiple threads in the forum and even more people emailing directly to say they were ready, willing, and eager to host. And bake cookies.  And make tea sandwiches, and… and…  Seriously.  You people are amazing.

So I thought I'd give you all a little taste (heh!) of our first PRC's from last weekend, and give Robin the night off from blogging, because she deserves it.

Our very first PRC was held this past weekend at a Books-a-Million in Arundel Mills, Maryland.  Mirkat was our organizer, and–well, I'll let her tell you about it.

The gathering was a delight.  Having just moved here a few weeks ago, my social circle is a bit small :)   And, the only reason I suggested the venue I did was because it was the only place I knew how to get to!  I baked over 200 cookies (Eggnog and my "Mouthwatering Mouthfuls" from the Sunshine contest) in a half-way unpacked kitchen and managed to get my printer up and running to print out raffle tickets.  However, I forgot to bring platters to put said cookies on, my partners-in-crime ran late, the manager was so swamped she didn't have a chance to make us balloons, and my prize package didn't make it in time!* Fortunately, things soon looked up when my new friends showed up, added more food to the table, and brought a riotous good mood with them.

We did sell a few books (at least two were purchased by our motley crew…….) and introduced a few people to this fantastic author.  Actually, that was how we got the most use out of the raffle tickets – extras were handed to people with Robin's name on the back for people to look up at their libraries or to find her books online. Upon leaving, we all agreed we should get together more often and are chomping at the bit to throw a PEGII Release Celebration!

Meanwhile, on the other coast…. forthewords and our crowd of McKinleyphiles from Seattle were getting ready to host their own shindig.  The Seattle folks on the forum are old hands at this, having organized cake-and-book parties via the forum on their own recognizance in recent months.  So no surprise it came off without a hitch!

Baked goods and books–how could it NOT be a success?

The cookies, I'm told, were almond, iced chocolate, and brownies.  Forthewords provided additional raffle prizes, courtesy of the local used bookstore, and gave those away along with the copy of Pegasus and the posters.  A good time was had by all!

So!  More PRCs next weekend–Knoxville TN, Lowell MA, and Vancouver, BC!  I can't wait to hear how they go.  Below is an updated list of what's going on.  To get these posts a little shorter/tighter, I'm condensing down the proposed section–but all the links should still work.  THANK YOU to all our wonderful organizers and attendees!

* And Black Bear sez–sorry about that.  We had a tight timeline for the ones this week…