Rose-Owls and Pumpkin Girls

Once again, we rewind to late May, when I was in New York City enjoying friends, humidity, publishers, and pigeons. Or, more specifically, we're rewinding to Sunday the 22nd, when I was scheduled to a) go into Manhattan to have brunch with The Agent, b) meet up with Will, and c) have dinner with several of my friends, including Batya, Alex, and the lovely Priscille. Everybody wins!

Foolishly, I thought that in New York, "brunch" meant, well, "brunch," and so expected to return to Jersey City during the day. Yes, yes, laugh at my pain. Anyway...

I rose, showered, dressed, and made my way to Manhattan, following the now-familiar path to the PATH train. I enjoy riding the PATH. It's easy and predictable and not really like riding the subway at all. Finding The Agent on the other end was easy, and we had a lovely, leisurely brunch at Cafeteria. I had a waffle with berries and cream. She had green eggs and ham (pesto is a magical thing). We split lemon pancakes with more berries and cream for dessert. Yes, I have now blogged what I had for breakfast. You have my permission to weep for mankind.

After brunch came the ceremonial Wandering Around Manhattan, wherein I actually did the traditional tourist thing and went shopping in New York. Sure, it was at Old Navy, where I bought half a dozen more tank tops in a variety of rainbow hues, but that counts, right? The Agent turns out to be hysterically funny in Old Navy, by the way, and even pickier about her tank top fit than I am. All hail compatible crazy.

We finished shopping and settled at the local Red Mango frozen yogurt, where The Agent ate yogurt and I didn't, because ew. Will came and got me, because he is awesome, and we bid The Agent what would be the first of many fond farewells. Will and I walked a great deal. I got an artisan Popsicle! Life is good. I also got to see Will's apartment, which was very clean and grownup, as befits a new law school graduate. Totally awesome.

After frozen treats and apartment visits, we made our way to the bus stop, hence to ride to the kosher Indian restaurant where we would be having dinner. Priscille wound up on the same bus, which was AWESOME, and much laughter and happiness accompanied us all the way to food, where we were met by Jon and Merav, Batya and Alex, a surprise Constance, and an extra bonus Jessica. Constance couldn't stay, but there was hugging, and then the rest of us went in to do some serious eating. I had goat. Who's surprised?

Dinner was followed by ambling aimlessly around the city, stopping by Dylan's Candy Bar, and finally drinking sugary things at Starbucks. Jon and Merav had actually driven into Manhattan, and so I was able to get a ride back to Jersey City, where I tumbled into bed, full of goat, happy, and ready to face the week ahead.

Which is good, because the week ahead was about to KICK MY ASS.

1. The Roseville event was awesome, and the store now has autographed copies of all five of my currently published books. A Local Habitation is naturally in the shortest supply, so if you'd been planning to swing by the store and pick up a set, you should probably do so soon, before everything goes away. Thanks to Alex, for having me, and to Sunil, for bringing me wonderful goodies from England and giving me hugs.

2. In case you missed the announcement, An Artificial Night is in the BSC Review Book Tournament Finals, and Toby could use your vote. Also, once she has conclusively CRUSHED HER OPPONENT, I can stop posting about this, thus freeing up your valuable display space for other topics, like the ever-popular "complaining about my cats."

3. I really enjoyed the newest Disney Channel Original Movie, Lemonade Mouth. I did not enjoy them presenting the first hour of the movie sans commercials without warning me first, as it meant I had not brought a soda, or a blanket, or the paperwork I needed to finish during the movie, before sitting down on the couch. I am told the book is better than the movie. I must now read the book.

4. Served at yesterday's brunch: potato cake. It's cake, made of potatoes, bacon fat, and bacon. HOW CAN THIS BE? The spirit of sweetmusic_27 hovered over my shoulder and watched me eat it, and I now need the recipe, because I must cook it for her. It is a moral imperative.

5. I visited the Sacramento Shirt Shop, and plans for Wicked Girls shirts are now proceeding apace. I should be posting about it soon. Girl-cut shirts are available up to 2x, and we'll be able to do standard-cut shirts up to 5x, as needed, for no additional cost. Baby shirts are a different setup, and so would be a different order. Details will be forthcoming; I don't have them just yet.

6. I am solidly on target to hit 100,000 words on Blackout by Saturday. This is both incredibly exciting and incredibly stressful, since it means I'm coming closer and closer to the point where I have to stop setting things up in favor of knocking everything down. Considering what I have left to do in this volume, I'm starting to worry that the first draft may need more trimming than I thought. Since I am a perennial trimmer (better a late trim than a panicked plumping), this is okay, it's just surprising.

7. Zombies are love.

8. The Cartoon Network schedule for the rest of 2011 has been released, and Tower Prep is not represented. Here's hoping this is either a glitch, or they're about to announce moving Tower Prep to SyFy, where it could find an enormous audience and live forever.

9. I will probably celebrate hitting 100,000 words on Blackout by cleaning as much of my room as is physically possible and then writing the rest of "Rat-Catcher" in one feverish sprint. Don't judge me, this is how writers party hard.

10. Doctor Who comes back on Saturday. Saturday can't come fast enough.

The first full day of WorldCon dawned bright and early. Very bright, and very early, since Jeanne and I were both still waking up at roughly six o'clock in the morning. The fact that I did this despite spending a good portion of the night out drinking with my friends was somewhat astonishing to everyone involved, and could be taken as proof that I function on some sort of nuclear power source, rather than actual sleep. Our early rising did net us first shower, which was nice, as fixing my hair* takes a long damn time (which is why I so rarely bother to do it). Now socially acceptable, we hit the street in search of a) breakfast, and b) caffeine.

Breakfast was ham and cheese croissants in the food court attached to the casino attached to our hotel. Yeah, I know, I'm stacking on attachments like a professional spammer, but that's apparently the way they roll in Australia. Unless otherwise stated, assume all meals were in the food court attached to the blah blah blah. It was close, convenient, and (by local standards) reasonably priced, and Jeanne and I were both willing to eat there. Pretty much a victory all the way around.

At the convention center, the poor folks at registration were still waiting on their program books, so we went to see Mary Kay Kare and get my Participant Packet instead. It had invites! To Hugo-related functions! This is about when it all started seeming very real to me, and also when I pretty much gave up sleep for the duration. Expect my sanity to degrade rapidly from this point onward.

We wandered the convention, figured out where everything was, and had an unexpected meeting with Lezli Robyn, my fellow Campbell Award nominee. She was incredibly sweet, and I'm very glad to have met her. After touring the dealer's room and the half-assembled art show, I located Jay Lake and Shannon Page on a comfortable couch, and camped there for a bit, because Jay is cuddly and I was warm. Jeanne pointed out that failure to decamp from Jay would mean I got no caffeine before my three o'clock panel on Supernatural. I knew I'd need caffeine for that one. I decamped.

Thank Heaven for 7-11, yo.

The panel went well, despite some early confusion as to what, exactly, we were talking about. The topic was "Breaking the Fourth Wall: Supernatural and Its Audience." Given my opinions on season five, this could have been a blood bath. It was not, largely because polite tourists don't kill people. (At least, that's what Kate says, and everyone I ask says she's right. Conspiracy much?) And that was...well, that was it. That was my only Thursday panel.

Oh, wait. What about my Kaffeeklatsche? You know, that thing where I go and have coffee with anyone who wants to sit and talk to me for an hour? That was still coming up, right? Well, yes, and no. Because somebody told the programming desk that I was sick, you see, and they cancelled my slot. I found this out when someone asked me why, if I was sick, I was hanging out in the hall chatting with my friends. I went down to the front desk and whined until they fixed it. GO TEAM MATURITY. After that, the actual Kaffeeklatsche was fine. People drank coffee (I drank Coke Zero), we talked, and a good time was had by all. Jeanne and I trundled off for dinner, after which I returned to the Hilton to spend several happy hours at Barcon, drinking expensive cocktails and feeling the love. I love the love.

Friday, I spent most of the day idly trundling around and visiting my friends, capping it all off with the moment...the myth...the madness..."Seanan McGuire and Catherynne M Valente In Conversation." Also known as "the Snow White/Lily Fair Variety Show." It was, quite seriously, quantum madness. People asked it, we talked about it. Also, Cat brought the My Little Pony I'd given her to be our moderator while we sat on the edge of the stage and made merry for an hour. Worlds were born. Laws of physics were broken. It was awesome. And we're going to do it again in New York, because that is just how we roll.

After the In Conversation, Jeanne and I decamped to collect John Grace (my audio book publisher), Malcolm (Jeanne's friend), and Phil and Kaja Foglio. We trekked back to the alley for dinner. This time, they bribed us with a free bottle of wine for the table! Score. We got a fabulous table, and spent several hours chatting, eating, splitting appetizers, and generally having a fantastic time. Best WorldCon Friday ever. Even with the rain.

Australia is amazing.

(*Yes, it is actually possible for me to not look like a dandelion on the verge of going to seed. It's crazy, I know, but all things are possible with SCIENCE. And a ceramic straightening iron.)

Australia!

Having had our wacky outback adventure (tm), it was time to turn my attention to more mundane topics, IE, "checking out of the hotel, moving over to our convention hotel, and attending a signing." Yes, a signing. I was supposed to be at the Southlands Dymock's bookstore by mid-afternoon, which was super-fun, especially considering that I had no living clue where that was.

Jeanne and I managed to get packed and out of our first hotel in a reasonable amount of time, after bidding a fond farewell to our newly-familiar surroundings. (Had we been aware that we were also bidding farewell to the only free Internet in the ENTIRE COUNTRY, we might have been a little more tempted to stay where we were. I'm just saying.) Because we are not idiots, we took a cab between hotels. Because our room wasn't ready yet, we checked our bags with the concierge, picked up our taxi vouchers from the front desk (thank you, Orbit!), and were off.

Where were we going? Why, the Westfield Mall. You know. The biggest mall chain on the west coast of the United States. Because that is what every tourist should do. GO TO THE MALL. We found the bookstore, along with a Safeway, and basically every store I would expect to find in a large suburban mall. Humans. We're all essentially the same.

The store manager, Chuck, was truly thrilled to have me, and made a point of getting his picture with me. This is because Chuck is awesome, and his store now has many signed copies of Feed (alas, only my evil twin was represented in the store's stock). We hung out for a few hours, and I got to meet a few awesome people I'd been hoping to meet while in Australia, including Tez. Yay Tez!

Before we left, I bought the UK edition of the latest Pratchett, I Shall Wear Midnight, because that's just how I roll. We had lunch at TGI Friday's, and made our way back to the hotel, where our room was still not ready.

We made our way to the Crowne Plaza to collect our badges. The woman who gave me my badge all but wanted a blood sample, which was...fun. (Seriously, I was like the only person in line asked to produce photo ID. Apparently, my life is very steal-worthy. Who knew?) I ran into several friends, and much hugging happened. We returned to the hotel, where our room was still not ready. Grumble.

Eventually, we were able to get into our room, greeting Jennifer and Jeff with great glee in the process, and then we were out, to have dinner with John (my audio book producer), a bunch of his other clients (including Phil and Kaja, and Cat, all of whom would be very central for me over the course of the weekend), and some awesome last-minute additions: Rob and Mundy. Rob and Mundy made my convention infinitely more awesome, and I am so beyond overjoyed to have met them. Seriously, there are not words. Even if our dinner conversation had rather more circumcision than I was expecting.

After dinner, Jeanne ran off to meet some friends, and I went off with Rob, Cat, and Mundy, to crash someone's cocktail birthday party. Cat and I wound up sitting on the cool veranda overlooking downtown Melbourne, sipping rum cocktails made with pomegranate liqueur, and going "Holy shit, this is our real life."

Maybe it's worth stealing after all.

Yesterday afternoon, at the request of my/Mira Grant's publisher, I took my little FlipVideo camera and my little clicky-flashy digital camera down to Cups and Cakes Bakery to document the process of making the famous BRAIN CUPCAKES. Because, well, it seemed like a good way to kill an hour or two. The bakery is closed on Tuesdays, so Tuesday was the best time to have a slightly off-kilter author come in and point cameras at things. It was fun!

I am aware that this thread is useless without pics. Pics will be coming soon, although the odds are reasonably high that they will be posted, not here, but on the Orbit website. Why? Because dude, brain cupcakes. Also, that way Orbit has to do the video hosting, not me. I like things that lead to other people doing the video hosting. Things that lead to other people doing the video hosting are keen.

It turns out, by the way, that people are a lot less willing to accept random cupcakes from a random stranger when those random cupcakes look like tiny frosting brains. This is more of a sign of a survival instinct than I usually see from the human race these days, so I'm going to take it as a good thing. It probably didn't help that I looked bone-tired while offering the tiny brains to people, which created an overall air of "zombie pastry chef" that can't possibly have appealed to the public at large. Many of my friends, sure, but the public at large, not so amazingly much.

I love the simplicity of these tiny sugary treats, their iconic awesomeness, the way that they just say, very straightforwardly, "this is what I am, I am a brain, you can cope." I find myself pondering other ways to make cupcakes relevant to my various projects (although with some projects, this requires no effort at all—Velveteen gets red velvet cupcakes with vanilla frosting and rainbow sprinkles, for superficial childishness atop adult complexity; Clady just gets whatever you're not eating...), because dude, cupcakes.

Everybody loves baked goods.

Here's your friendly neighborhood Disney Halloweentown Princess with a cheerful reminder that tomorrow, I'll be appearing at Borderlands Books in San Francisco from five to nine PM in my role as Mira Grant, Destroyer of Worlds. As I have ordered eight dozen mini cupcakes for this event, leaving me to my own devices may result in some actual destroying of man, as I will get all hopped-up on sugar and then people will die. Save the world. Come to my party and eat a cupcake.

More seriously, this is to celebrate my first book as Mira, Feed (Newsflesh I), which came out on April 27th. It's been getting really awesome reviews, and has caused several of my friends to threaten to hit me (that's how you know it's good). It's dystopian science fiction with zombies in—sort of a cross between The West Wing, Night of the Living Dead, and Transmetropolitan—and I'm really, really proud of it.

There will be cupcakes. Naked cats. Discussion. Readings (yes, possibly plural; I'm planning to read the first chapter of Feed, and I'm bringing some of my dead-stuff themed short stories to read later in the evening). Plus, awesome bookstore full of awesome books. And I will be happy to sign books published under my own name, as well as under Mira's, so anything you want to buy and shove in front of me will be awesome.

If you can't make it, remember that you can contact the bookstore and request a signed or personalized book of your very own. They make excellent gifts, doorstops, and base materials for the manufacture of paper-mache masks, in addition to making me do a little dance when the pile of things-to-sign is placed in front of me. Support local bookstores (no one said who they had to be local to...).

I hope I'll see you there! As a special added bonus, if you let me know that you're planning to show up, I'll try to make sure that we save you a cupcake.

Zombies rule!

Point the first: There has been an epic influx of new people around here in the past few days. Like, epic. The kind of influx which causes me to start doing careful web checks to see if someone has been claiming that I regularly give away chocolate, kittens, and live Suicide Girls. (Hint: I do not do any of these things.) In the end, I have to admit that I'm stumped. I don't know where y'all are coming from, and while I'm happy as heck to have you, I'd love to know where you're coming from. And yes, I get the part where I have a book coming out in three days and this might—might—potentially be influencing the sudden flood of new names and faces. Still.

Point the second: If you enter a CVS Drugs in search of the tiny, addictive balls of malted goodness called "Robin's Eggs" by the makers of Easter candy, you may find that there are no Robin's Eggs on the shelves. There are, instead, extremely similar-looking candies called "Speckled Malted Milk Mini Eggs." Now, this is basically what Robin's Eggs are, so you could be forgiven for saying "fuck it, buy generic" and picking up a bag. You would not be the first. Once you had purchased this cruel temptation, it would be understandable if you then opened the bag, and placed one of the little balls of sugar in your mouth. But I have walked this path for you, and I have come to tell you the truth:

Speckled Malted Milk Mini Eggs are NOT fucking Robin's Eggs, and whoever decided to market these things as if they were should be forced to drown in their horrific, slime-like pseudo-chocolate coating.

I suffer so you don't have to.

Point the third: My house is currently in the throes of a full-scale invasion. To be specific, it is currently inhabited by Betsy Tinney, her daughter Katie, SJ Tucker, Kevin Wiley, Alexander James Adams, and the people who normally live here. Plus my opinionated monster cats, who can fill a house all by themselves. On Monday night, the fabulous Amy McNally arrives. If we run out of coffee at any point, cannibalism cannot be far behind. You have been warned. Also, if fandom did reality show filming, we would so be prime time right now.

Point the fourth: Since A Local Habitation comes out in three days, and one of them is mostly over now, I have to warn you that I may go basically batshit at any moment, and need to be removed from the ceiling fixtures by men with tranquilizer darts filled with Diet Dr Pepper. On the plus side, again, Amy gets here Monday, and she will sacrifice herself upon my dark altar that you may all be saved. Be kind to her. She suffers for your protection.

Point the fifth: Here. Have a picture of Lilly and Alice, sitting together, without injuring each other.

Having been asked (about fifteen times) to post this, I now present you with the recipe for dark chocolate chip pomegranate cookies. You will need:

* Three cups of all-purpose flour
* One teaspoon of baking soda
* One-half teaspoon of salt
* One cup of granulated sugar
* Two-thirds of a cup of packed light brown sugar

* One cup of softened butter or margarine
* Two large eggs
* One tablespoon of vanilla extract
* One quarter-cup of pomegranate molasses

* One twelve-ounce bag of dark chocolate chips
* One-half cup of pomegranate seeds

Line several cookie trays with parchment paper, as the cookies will be sticky when they first come out of the oven, and it's best if they stick to something other than your actual cookie tray (you may need it for another batch, depending on how many trays you have). Mix your flour, baking soda, and salt in a bowl that you aren't in danger of knocking over. Put it to one side. In another, bigger bowl, mix your butter, granulated sugar, white sugar, pomegranate molasses, eggs, and vanilla until they form a sugary pudding-like goo that you really just want to eat with a spoon (but won't, due to the presence of raw eggs in the mix).

Begin adding your flour mixture to the wet ingredients, mixing thoroughly as you go. First the contents of your bowl will look like some sort of horrible elementary school art project. Gradually, they will turn into cookie dough. When this happens, mix in the chocolate chips and pomegranate seeds. Stir to distribute as evenly as possible through the mixture. Put the dough in the fridge for an hour. Go do something else. Watch TV. Read a book. Read my book. I don't care. It's your hour.

Actually, I lied. After about forty-five minutes, come back and pre-heat your oven to 400 F/around 205 C.

Once you're ready to bake, put tablespoons of dough on your cookie trays, about two inches apart (to allow for spread). You may need to mash them a little with your spoon or hand to get them to stay in place. Bake at 400 F/around 205 C until light brown (usually eight to ten minutes; longer if you want crispy cookies). Allow to cool at least a little before eating. The pomegranate seeds will soften to the texture of baked walnuts, while the juice parts will be little exploding sweet-sour surprises.

Eat.

It's once again time to prepare to fly. My bags are packed (mostly); I'm ready to go (mostly); I don't have a taxi waiting down below, but since my ride to the airport is asleep in the room basically directly beneath me, I'm going to call it close enough for government work. (I like cars-of-friends better than I like taxis, anyway. They don't charge me as much when I suddenly demand we stop for soda.)

It's been a good trip. I didn't get to see nearly as many people as I hoped, on a social basis, but I got a lot of work done, and had a lot of business meetings, and it was good. A distressing number of these business meetings involved feeding me. I will now return to California and live on salad, peas, and carrot sticks for two weeks, while I wait for my body to issue a writ of forgiveness. But! I'm not sorry, because I have eaten cake-and-shake, frozen hot chocolate, some of the weirdest salads ever seen, pepper-encrusted Maine scallops, garlic fries (seriously, these were some high-class garlic fries), baked heirloom apples with homemade apple ice cream, and some of the best chicken and pea curry I've ever had. I have walked and I have wandered, I have pillaged and I've pondered, and I'm happy with the results.

New York is a fascinating place. I really do understand why some people view the concept of leaving as a sort of sacrilege, even as I understand that I'd go crazy and become a bridge troll in Central Park if I ever tried to live here. I like my yearly visits, and I enjoy the chance to see my publishers in their natural habitat, but I also like my world to be a bit greener. (Now, the Jersey Pine Barrens are another matter. I could totally live there. And then the Jersey Devil would eat me.)

It's been a good trip.

I am ready to be home.

Last night, my mother came over to do the final run-around errands before my trip to New York -- I leave tonight, and get back to California on Sunday. This required going to a surprising number of stores, as Target didn't have pencil cases (K-Mart did), K-Mart didn't have my anti-snap hair goo (JC Penney's did), and nobody seemed to have my kitty litter (we eventually found the correct brand at Safeway). I proposed dinner. She proposed Italian. So I took her to my local hole-in-the-wall Italian cafe, Pasta Primavera, which is one of those incredible little strip-mall joints that looks like it should be full of roaches, and tastes like it's full of Heaven.

Now, I frequently tell people that I come from a carnie family (which I do); this should give you an idea of our general position on 'fancy cuisine.' Kate says my favorite Indian place is the equivalent of In-n-Out Burger, and she's not far wrong. So it was a real treat to watch my mother attempting to navigate her way through the menu, which did not include the word 'spaghetti' anywhere between its covers. Now I know how Kate felt when she was first starting to take me out for Indian.

We eventually wound up with roast asparagus, red peppers, and caprese salad (basil, tomatoes, and mozzarella cheese) as a starter, while I had the mixed seafood linguine, and Mom had bowtie pasta with chicken breast in a Gorgonzola sauce. Also, there was bread and salad. Mom had never encountered a) caprese, b) Gorgonzola sauce, or c) a pleasant waiter who kept bringing her more cheese before. So that was fairly awesome. And after she stopped burning her mouth on the pasta -- which was admittedly approximately the temperature of molten rock -- she was really pleased with everything, and that was even more awesome. I really appreciate being able to take my mother out and introduce her to nice things. Especially since our mutual standards are low enough that we both remain pleasantly easy to satisfy.

Mom had never heard of tiramisu before. She looked suspicious when I ordered her one, which is a totally reasonable reaction, given some of the things she's seen me eat. Then she got her first bite of the stuff, and promptly made the 'oh my God why did no one tell me this existed' face. I win at feeding my mother.

She's on the last of the Jig the Goblin books (by Jim Hines, who seems to be her new favorite author -- CURSE YOU, JIM, SHE'S SUPPOSED TO BE MY BIGGEST FAN), and is loving them completely. This is the first fantasy she's read for years. I think I can probably control her actions for months by threatening not to get her a copy of The Mermaid's Madness when it comes out. Because manipulating your parents is always good for a laugh.

I have given my mother tiramisu.

All is right with the world.