After work today I walked into Used-to-be-Ottakars in Chelmsford for a coffee and to write another few lines of Order of the Scales (80k words now for anyone who’s keeping track, but don’t get too excited that it’s going to be finished for Eastercon because it’s going to need at least one major revision and a stern talking to before I can let it out of the house. But I digress). I walk into the shop, and there, standing right in front of me and with a slightly surprised (guilty?) look on his face is the nice man who runs the fantasy & science fiction section. He’s holding my book.

Stop there for a moment to savour… He’s holding my book. Squeee!

So I sign them and we chat and I’m all Mr-Calm-And-Collected, and I go for my coffee, and then when no one’s looking I sneak back down again to stare at them on the shelf in the fantasy section.

Stop there for a moment to savour… They’re on the shelf. Of a real bookshop. Squeee!

I thought about taking a picture of them and then thought how sad is that and now I wish I had. And I would have posted it too. And you could all have called me King Sad of Sadland and I’d still be grinning. I might go back tomorrow and sneak a snap.

Apparently someone had already bought one. So: Anyone who bought a copy of The Adamantine Palace in Chelmsford on Friday 13th and it wasn’t signed, you were too eager. And eagerness is good and shall be rewarded. So, if it was you and you’re reading this, and you want it signed, and since by definition you must be local, get in touch and we’ll sort something out.

Stop there for a moment to savour… Someone bought one. Squeee!

Friday the 13th. What a fine day. Fly, my beauties, fly…