I was going to write up a list of things that were making me happy despite the impending snow, like Downton Abbey and Dashiell Hammett novels.

But then I cut my hand in a feat of particularly impressive clumsiness, making it rather difficult to type.

So here are some recent photos of the kittens. I’m going to go hide until the Year of the Rabbit gets here.

friends for hedgehogs

I made you a hedgie friend! she says, handing me a spiky, beady-eyed ball of some sort of bark and artfully composed twig slices.

Thanks, I say, putting him down on my desk. I turn him so he faces the printer, but he still looks like he’s staring at me with those glossy little eyes.

I already have a hedgehog, I tell her when she brings me another the next day, attempting to give back the almost identical… thing.

That one needs a friend for when you’re not around, she says. They get lonely.

The day after that, there’s a third one on my desk, sitting alongside the other two.

The next day there are six.

No matter how I arrange them, they’re always staring at me with those unblinking eyes.

They look like they’re plotting something.

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

checking in

I have a thing for hotels. Which is kind of strange, considering how rarely I stay in them, but I love the idea of hotels. Especially old hotels.

I also have a thing for vintage objects. My latest vintage Etsy find that I simply had to have is this antique hotel service bell:

And along with the antique hotel service bell (which has a lovely, clear ring), I also have reservations to see Sleep No More in New York in March. Twice. Because I know once will not be enough.

Remember Sleep No More? The immersive Hitchcockian MacBeth I was obsessed with last year when it was in Brookline? It’s back, it’s in NYC, and it’s hotel-themed which is making me swoon.

Seriously, I am so deliriously happy about getting to experience it again (twice!) that even the fresh almost-foot of snow outside cannot dull my glee.

I’m going to go write now. Possibly punctuated with occasional giggling and nice, clear rings from a 100+-year-old hotel bell.


It’s still cold.

It’s still snowing.

The little birds sitting on the back fence seem fairly content and well-fed, though.

I am more or less hibernating.

By “hibernating” I mean that I am wearing fuzzy sweaters when I can get Tessa to stop napping on them, drinking warm beverages, burying myself in research, and writing something that is not yet novel-shaped.

Now Tessa is sitting on the sweater that I’m currently wearing. Joy.


I made the keys first. They were easier. Then each one needed a keyhole and escutcheon and set of doorknobs or handles to match, ranging from simple to ornate.

Victorian and Art Deco and others of my own stylistic invention.

Each one unique.

Each one correlating to a different place.

A different time.

Made to unlock and open into their own worlds.

I could go anywhere.

If I had a door.

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

I have been trying to think of things to post about, but I keep getting hung up on “I am sick of winter” and then I just want to curl up on the couch with a blanket and a kitten and a cup of tea and scowl at the snow.

I normally have a pretty high winter tolerance. I rather like winter, but I do not like frigid cold alternating with slushy ice.

I like nice, fluffy snow. Hot chocolate with Chambord. Mittens. I’d like sitting by the fireplace if I had one.

But this frozen rain stuff can stop.

Also, this morning I broke a teapot. A really nice teapot.

The lid is shattered & I’m going to see if I can have it replaced instead of just buying an entire replacement pot. I could turn the lidless one into a planter if I had to, I suppose.

In happier news, the BPAL Lupercalia update is expansive and amazing. I ordered several bottles, including this year’s version of Smut because I adore last year’s & Red Lantern because I’ve never tried it but caramel smells wonderful on me.

This time of year I kind of want to hibernate. But instead, I’m going to curl up with my tea in a not-broken teacup & attempt to be productive.

the short, sad life of a faceless snowman

He wasn’t leaning when they built him.

(Is it presumptuous to assume all snowmen are male?)

Anyway, he stood up pretty well those first few days. He would have looked almost impressive if the snow had been proper white marshmallow-colored fluff instead of dirty grey parking lot snow.

He started to lean yesterday. He probably would have toppled completely if the tree wasn’t there.

He wasn’t a particularly cheerful snowman to begin with, he never even had a carrot nose or anything, but now he just seems sad.

I suppose anyone would be sad, to have such a cold, temporary life.

Sooner or later he’ll melt.

I think he’ll welcome it.

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

bucket + snow

We have snow. Again. Lots of it.

I went to take some photos out the back door and Bucket got curious.

She’s usually not the curious cat type, so I was impressed that she actually took two whole steps before retreating back inside.

More snow photos over on Flickr.

You may have seen me on Twitter bemoaning the fact that I only received one book as holiday giftage. (Technically, I got two. I received one after the bemoaning.)

Obviously, two is still not enough books. So despite the sorry state of my to-read shelf, I bought myself some pretties.

I have coveted the Coralie Bickford-Smith-designed Penguin Classics since I first saw them, so this is the beginning of what I’m certain will end up being a fairly large collection. They are so pretty, and there are so many classics that I’ve really wanted to own but lost the beat-up high school English class copies years ago. These are much better.

(Also featured in these photos is one of the marvelous bookends my sister gave me.)

I already want more because they don’t fill the whole shelf, even though the elephant is doing an admirable job of keeping them upright. And I’m annoyed that the Fitzgeralds don’t seem to be easy to find in the US, because they are swoon-worthy.

I had been planning on posting these today, so I was amused when they turned up on Doubleday’s Tumblr today as well. And then I turned up on Doubleday’s Tumblr, too. Hee.

As you may have noticed, I was in NYC for the past few days.

I met my agent and my editor in person for the first time. They are, in fact, actual people and not just lovely disembodied telephone voices.

I drank a lot of wine with my sister. I got snowed on in Times Square. I met the resident kitty at the Algonquin.

I generally felt like I’d wandered into someone else’s life.

It’s going to take awhile for this to fit on me properly. Like breaking in new boots.

And then last night, while I was on the train back to Boston, my Google alerts kind of exploded with the Summit film option announcement.

I’m thrilled about it, of course. It’s not helping that whole endeavoring to become more of a believer thing, though. Every time I think this whole journey might get less surreal eventually, things like this happen and I’m reduced to blinky-eyed deer in headlights mode and I say “yay” a lot, because I’m articulate like that.

Oh, and since some of the announcements have mentioned it as such, I should probably clarify that The Night Circus is not a young adult novel. It will probably have a lot of appeal for teenage readers & fans of YA, but it is indeed an adult-market book.

Home now, with kittens who claim not to have missed me. Fluffy little liars.