Over at The Night Bazaar, I blather on about meeting literary idols, the innate, recluse nature of writers. I talk about saying stupid things to people while I say stupid things to people, if you catch my meaning, what?
Right-ho. Just pop over there and be the first chappie (or chappette) to comment and you'll receive as a prize my eternal gratitude. What could be more rare, more sought after? Gratitude.
It's what's for dinner.
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Oops. Posted this before the other blog post goes live. Dag-nabbit. 7:30am CST. So, while you're waiting, go ahead and pre-order your very own copy of Southern Gods, with 52% more implied tentacles.
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