So I was sitting at home typing away, doing some actual work on Secret Project F, when the phone rings out on the front stoop. Well, to be precise, the phone was dangling from the eves of the roof in a little baggie. (No, I was not punishing the phone with isolation for bad behavior. Reception is a strange and mysterious thing in the boondocks of wine country.) I only heard it because it was such a nice day and I had the door open.
I trotted out to pick it up, figuring I might as well shock someone today. (I never pick up my phone, mainly because, well, it lives outside dangling from the eves.) The number was a 212 number. This is always exciting, for 212 means New York, and New York means publishing. All good things come from 212.
It’s my editor, Big D.
“You are number 20 on the New York Times Bestseller list!” quoth she.
At witch the following reactions occurred:
- I squealed. (Rather loudly and in my editor’s ear. Though she was squealing too. She’s that kind of editor.)
- I sat down rapidly on the front stairs.
- I tilted back and wiggled my legs in the air.
- I startled my father (sitting in the sun nearby) who did nothing (he’s that kind of dad) and the cat who dashed into the bushes (she’s that kind of cat).
- I stood up and started bouncing about the yard.
- I continued my conversation with my editor and don’t remember a word of it.
- I hung up and then proceeded to call: 1. my Mum (darling, that’s wonderful), 2. my Phran (silence, long squeal), 3. my Sarah (concoct plans to go for dinner to celebrate), 4. my Rach (sensible speak), 5. my Willow (cried). The Iz already sort-of knew (she’s kind of like that).
- During this process my agent called me. She would have squealed, but she’s sick.
- I jumped on the interwebs to discover, in classic fashion, that they already knew.
- I drove off and had a delightful celebratory meal. There may have prosecco and rice pudding. (If you ask me, everything should be celebrated with pudding. Well, that and new shoes, of course.)
So, Gentle Reader, having been practically moved to profanity in my delight, I am pleased to present unto you: Changeless as # 20 on the New York Times Bestseller List! Here’s my agent’s coverage.
This is one of those moments authors dream about, and I’m afraid I fudged it up greatly. So all I can say at this juncture is thank you so very much to all who went out and bought a copy of Changeless, this is totally your fault. And I love you for it.
Quote of the Day:
“The best way to send information is to wrap it up in a person.”
~ Robert OppenheimerTags: Parasol Protectorate