Thanks so much to everyone for the birthday wishes! Let the record reflect, I have some of the most awesome readers/friends/cohorts/loonies in the world.
I slept in this morning and declared a “personal day,” which is not to say that I won’t be working – just that I woke up so late that I must skip my day-job work at this time. (Though I will probably feel guilty enough to catch up on it over the weekend, because that’s how I roll.) I don’t really have any plans today, other than “clean house because this place is filthy,” maybe “sneak in a load of laundry,” and “try to get some writing done before the husband gets home from work – at which point perhaps we will go out for supper.”
For the record, thirty-five feels warm and kind of sharp. But that might just be the fat, happy cat in my lap, kneading on my bathrobe.
Someone over on Twitter asked if I had any birthday requests, and I don’t, really. But I certainly wouldn’t stop anyone from preordering Dreadnought, since this is as good a day to do so as any – and I might be forgiven a little shameless self promo, perhaps. After all, my primary birthday wish of all time has been to get paid for writing books.*
If you have a local independent shop of preference, the booksellers there will be happy to accommodate you; as will the usual internet and big chain suspects.
You can learn more about Dreadnought and even read the first chapter here at its Macmillan listing. And you can keep abreast of all Clockwork Century happenings over at its Facebook fan page. I mean, if you are so inclined.
Thank you so, so much for reading, everyone. Collectively, you helped make my thirty-fourth year a true stand-out – and I can’t adequately convey my undying appreciation in mere text. See? Attempts to do so come off as stilted and weird. Ah, well. What can I do but try?
* True fact, though this wish has occasionally been augmented by such wishes as “a new bicycle” and “a flying robot pony-corn.”