After the ball is over

It’s an old song, written in 1891 by Charles K. Harris, After the Ball. I couldn’t help but think of that deliciously saccharine song a few days after the launch of my speculative fiction novel,¬†Caliban.¬†Why I thought of that, I have no idea. Perhaps it’s the sentimentality of the ballad, perhaps the voices that once trilled through its notes. It’s a sad song, for all of its sentimentality. Perhaps my remembrance of it had more…

Preparing for a date with my fans

That’s what it feels like with my upcoming book signing and reading at Monigram in Cambridge: a date with my fans. I have to admit I both love and loathe doing these things. I loathe these events because I’m basically an introvert, a recluse by nature, someone who enjoys solitude and my own company. (Thank goodness I married a man who understands that!) But I also really like being part of a gathering of like-minded…