I took a bit of a holiday break from Endicott reviews, and am now getting back in the swing of things. Just posted a review of Devid Levithan’s MARLY’S GHOST, which I oh-so-predictably loved. Next up is POISON, from Chris Wooding, which I’m also loving. It’s my first Wooding book (I picked it up at BEA), but it won’t be my last. Holly Black fans should take note of this one. After that, I’ve got OUTFOXING FEAR: FOLKTALES FROM AROUND THE WORLD, by Kathleen Reagan (with a preface by Endicott favorite Jack Zipes). The Reagan book was one of those rare pleasant surprises in the well-browsed (well, by me) folklore section of B&N: it’s brand new, I had no idea that it was coming out, and yet it’s so apropos.

Midori is busy coding the winter issue of the Journal. It’ll be up soon-ish.

This house is old, with paint
peeling in large flakes and
flecks of plaster like tiny secrets
falling from the ceiling. I laid
the white dress hanging lonely
in the closet to rest, gave the
forgotten sheets to Goodwill,
shined up the empty rusted picture frame
and placed you inside it. But
your smoke has seeped into the walls;
no matter how much I scrubbed or
painted, the footprints on the steps
remain. Now, the cats have conversations
with empty corners. I don’t hear the
whispering until it’s dark and
I’m lying in bed, a hushed heart, beating
ever so slight, like moth’s wings.
As I pull the covers up to my chin,
I wonder: when I have moved on,
what will I leave behind?

Yes, Virginia, we will be at the New York Comic Con. At a corner booth. In Artist’s Alley. AA65 is the magic number (no-more-no-less, what does it all mean?).

We’ll have new pitches (complete with art), a couple of ashcans, and all of our other haul.

And buttons.

And I’m thinking about a candy dish, but that’s still up in the air.

Don’t worry, I’ll remind you again plenty before the big days arrive.

1. Went to see Whisperado last night with Tor-meisters Liz and Irene. Patrick Nielsen Hayden plays a mean guitar, let me tell you. Keep tabs on Jon’s blog for upcoming gig announcements.

2. Hit the Strand beforehand with Leland, and promptly gave a little girlyswoon over their ever expanding handbag line:

And then I systematically ruled each one of them out.

And then left empty-handed.

3. Okay, that’s not true. I left with this:

My glee goes without saying.

4. Mr. Wood emailed in a panic to let me know that my LOCAL write-up (mentioned yesterday) is actually in LOCAL #4, not LOCAL #3. Do pick up #3 anyway. Do pick up them all.

5. From the “don’t hate me for bringing this up again” department:

YES, YES, DEAR GOD YES!

And on the seventh James Frey mention, she rested. Thank you for bearing with me. I won’t even get into that Indian guy. Oh, wait, I just brought up that Indian guy.

See, here’s the big reason why the Freys, LeRoys, and That Indian Guys fascinate me. Way back when, right after PLATFORM #1 hit the streets, a very cool, very kind literary agent approached me about turning PLATFORM into a Real Live Book. And she was dead serious. I remember her saying, “There’s nothing fresh out there. This is fresh.” I was incredibly flattered, and, as you can imagine, gave it a lot of thought. But in the end, I couldn’t do it, because I would have had to make stuff up.

Or maybe I wouldn’t have. Maybe I would have found the story if I’d gone looking. Regardless, I’ve always demanded that PLATFORM stay true. I mean, those “only in New York” moments that you couldn’t make up if you tried are always the best ones anyway.

I understand the importance of a good story, but when “true” and “narrative arc” go head-to-head on my own non-fiction page, “true” wins out, pretty much every time. I don’t claim to know a whole lot about creative non-fiction and the limits of truth-ness there, but I do know my own comfort levels.

So the PLATFORM book went unwritten, and I remain fascinated by memoirs. The line between truth and fiction, the demands of story and truth are fascinating. But I didn’t want to dance on that tightrope myself.

Incidentally, I’ve really felt like taking to the platform lately. I have no time for this right now whatsoever. But it’s a sign of something, something different than what the platform was about when I was writing PLATFORM. We’ll see.

Besides, it’s too fricking cold.

Mr. Wood just wrote to let me know that my “my LOCAL” contribution is printed in the back of LOCAL #3, out today. So, get thee to a comics shop.

This just in from your mom: you should be reading LOCAL anyway.

Behold, a few adventures in polymer clay. I think they came out quite all right. Technically, they’re talismans and amulets (the former attracts, the latter repels), but who’s quibbling? Serious props and snaps are due to Leland, who scanned them in, because doing so was… an unfun time.

In the spirit of “like attracts like” (sympathetic magick, don’t you know), I’ve been sloooowly but surely amassing a bit of a handmade jewelry stash, which, once I have enough and I’m “in the mood”, I shall put up for sale on Etsy.com. Might take a while — after all, it’s not like I don’t have a million/frillion/zillion other things going on or nothin’.

Other recent activities include making a red scarf with Fun Fur. And writing a pitch, which is almost done.

Mr. Wood (along with his LOCAL partner in crime, Ryan Kelly) are up at the AV Club this week.

In other news, can I just tell you all how much I love Valentine’s Day? Why? Because I love red, I love pink, and most of all, I love hearts.

Yeah, I’m a girly-girl down deep. So sue me.

More on that in a bit. The Valentine’s Day, not the girly-girl-ness. That speaks for itself.

Did some beading tonight for the first time in a zillion years. I love the way the pieces came out. The picture, on the other hand… I’ll have to dig the black sheet out.

L.L. Bean doesn’t have a gift registry?!

Bah.

Meant to post this earlier in the week, but my day job’s been a total nightmare. Anyway, check this out:

“What on earth is that?” you ask? Keep going….

Ever been in a yarn store? Then you may have seen one of these before. Observe:

The next time I’m in a fancypants yarn store and they ask, “Would you like your yarn wound?” I’ll say, “No, thank you.”

The coolest part? Leland made it out of random parts from the hardware store. That’s a wooden cabinet knob on the top.

Fancypants yarn stores in New York City are too damn small.