Sometimes I think I should change the name of this blog to "I'm still here, really." I am trying to be better about blogging here, seriously.
Currently far under the weather with an icky cold. As in have grossed out the husband at least once when I only managed to grab a small piece of tissue before a monster sneeze that slimed things. I count the minutes until the next Sudafed (hey, it's about time, yippee!) and my blood type would show as Ricola if a sample were taken at this exact moment.
Thankfully, I have a very understanding husband who knows that yes, buying a new historical romance novel is part of absolutely neccessary cold supplies. Because though I could build a small house (or at least a comfortably roomy tool shed, which I would use to store more books) from my tbr pile, it is not that book and the reading is always about the "that book."
Right now, that book is Claiming the Courtesan by newcomer Anna Campbell. No, not me, but yes, it is somewhat of a vicarious thrill to see the same first name as mine on a cover. I can put my thumb over the "ampbell" and pretend they managed to squeeze the rest of my name in there. If that sounds weird, I blame the Sudafed.
That's not the only reason, though. At the conference a couple of weeks ago, editors and agents all raved about this book, citing the return of the big historical (oh be still my heart, please please please) and one of my target editors even regretted passing on it. This of course has me intrigued.
My other toy getting me through this is Pearl, my new mp3 player. She's an RCA Pearl (hence the name) and after a couple of hiccups, I think I have her figured out. At the moment, she has a rather eclectic playlist, including James Blunt, Alanis Morissette, Elton John (and selections from his Aida) Mary Chapin Carpenter, and the Bee Gees, among others. I have not yet begun to fill her, though I am still trying to figure out how to get the two songs I downloaded from Yahoo Jukebox into her. I am going bananas without having Evanescence's "My Immortal" and Charlie Robison's "El Cerrito Place" availiable to me at all times.
A conference recap should go here, but my brain is too befuddled, so I will save that for a new post and crawl back under a blankey with a good book.