Library of Congress

Who’d have ever though a farmboy Indian from West Texas would get to launch a werewolf novel at the Library of Congress? I know I can smile better than that, too. But what you gonna do. Anyway, don’t let me fool you into thinking it was only me: Was a supercool time. Even got to hang with my editor, who acquired Mongrels: Also? Know how two or three days ago I pasted up that hero-pic (i.e., a pic of me with a hero, George RR Martin)? Get this: Been such a whirlwind few days. Slept a total of like negative five hours of the last fifty, I think. And miles to go before I find a bed: about to bus through Denver back to Boulder, to grab a clean pair of jeans, another werewolf shirt, and then do Tattered Cover with Richard Kadrey. Pics and stories coming, I’m sure. Oh, and I was a few minutes late to the event. Why? Evidently you can’t bring honking-big knives into hallowed halls wherein walk dignitaries. There was a lot of knife drama, there was some screeching around corners in cabs, and there was the backdrop of the capital behind it all. Felt like I was in a Dan Brown novel. Wouldn’t trade it. Thanks, Robert and Anya, of Library of Congress. And thanks, Louise Erdrich. Will close with this hardly-at-all-staged pic, of me sitting at the poet laureate’s special-special desk up in the attic of the Library of Congress long after dark, “working” on a certain book .  . . . → → →