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this is a pre-BEA post.

First, the very basic facts:

 

Yes, I am going to be at Book Expo America next week.

I will be signing ARCs of THE NIGHT CIRCUS at 3pm on Wednesday the 25th at Random House booth #4420.

 

Now you know, and I will return to normal, not-bolded font.

I will be in NYC all week, at BEA on both Tuesday & Wednesday. I have various intimidating things on my schedule like video interviews and cocktail parties and I am trying not to get too terribly nervous about them. If I think too hard about all this, my head starts to hurt, so I am kind of coasting on nervous/excited and attempting to be zen.

I was going to take pictures of kittens in suitcases to go with this post, but I haven’t actually gotten around to properly packing yet. There may be bonus kittens in suitcases over the weekend.

By erin, ago

flax-golden tales: guard pig

 

guard pig

Every house on the street requires a protector, a fact that is bolded and italicized in all of the paperwork. Though if the reason is specified in there it’s been buried in small-font, legal-speak sentences and footnotes.

Each protector is different, I don’t think that’s a bolded rule, but I’m not certain and none of them are the same, standing or sitting or draped over front doors in their own particular fashion.

We moved in most recently, but our house is the oldest and it shows, the steps are worn and the brick has seen better days. The list of things to fix once there’s enough time and money just keeps getting longer.

Our protector came with the house. He’s seen better days, too, and for a while after we moved in I was kind of ashamed, since other houses have regal-looking lions or glimmering dragons curled around their entryways.

Until one of the neighbors (the lady with the golden-eyed owl perched by her own door) came over, bearing a welcoming platter of fruit tartlets individually wrapped in wax paper.

“You’re so lucky to have the pig,” she said as I let her in, and she looked so scared I didn’t dare ask why.

But after she left, I gave the pig a tartlet.

 

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

By erin, ago

so cold!

It is so cold and bleak and rainy it’s like someone rewound the year to February. I refuse to turn my heat on in May on principle, instead I am wrapped up in sweaters and thick socks and drinking absurd amounts of mint tea.

Also, kittens are hogging all the blankets.

And Tessa appears to be a pirate, or she’s trying, at least.

Pre-BEA post forthcoming, possibly with packing photos if I can keep kittens out of suitcases.

By erin, ago

flax-golden tales: last words

last words

It’s a simple game, really. Once you understand the rules, that is, but the rules cannot be told to the player beforehand, they can only be learned through playing.

It is remarkable how many choose to play despite that fact, and despite the fact that a game must be completed—won or lost—once begun.

The game keeps records, imprints of movements made and choices taken by previous players, engraved into the gamespace itself, though much of it is recorded in an almost-indecipherable system of the game’s own devising.

It is particularly fond of marking down last words.

Though all of the last words are similar. Echoed cries repeated over and over again, before being etched in text for posterity.

So perhaps the next player who reaches this particular spot in the game will have a bit of warning.

If they take the time to look down.

But hardly anyone ever thinks to look down.

 

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

By erin, ago

monday miscellany, again

Little bits of things today, because my brain is all unfocused. I’ve been doing things in fits and starts for days, so the blogging can have a similar, disjointed feel for the start of this week.

I have contact lenses! I had to wear my trial pair all last week and they were proclaimed satisfactory this weekend. I’m still getting used to them but they’re not nearly as strange as I had anticipated, and while I’m sure I’ll still default to my glasses out of convenience, it’s absolutely marvelous to have the option.

I also have new suitcases, since I have traveling to do in the impending future. Tessa likes them, so that’s something.


I spent part of the weekend finishing reading The Little Stranger by Sarah Waters. I mentioned on Twitter when I was halfway through that I loved it like candy (dank, possibly haunted candy) and I continued to love it through to the end. Marvelously moody and perfect spring thunderstorm reading, curled up in a corner with a blanket, being stared at by a cat.

Speaking of Waters, I’ve noticed that I get asked about my literary influences and my mind almost always goes completely blank, or there are just so many that I don’t know where to start. I should start compiling a master list. Sarah Waters belongs on it, of course. Fingersmith is still my favorite of hers, though I did love this one a lot in a completely different way.

I just got the new Fleet Foxes album and I’m not sure what I think about it yet, but it’s growing on me.

I have been meaning to post this for ages and kept forgetting, of course: My friend Eleanor was at the London Book Fair and posted an inside look at some of the circusy things on her blog, including a peek at the still-elusive UK cover.

I think that’s it. Kind of can’t believe that BEA is only two weeks away, have to work on the rest of my “to-do before BEA” list.

By erin, ago