Not here, but over at Lind Epstein’s (my awesome agent) blog.

http://theblabbermouthblog.com/2015/08/17/guest-blogger-katherine-sparrow-on-writing-what-sells/

Working today on editing and pacing. Pacing is one of those sausage-making aspects of writing that readers don’t generally consider too much or notice, but for the writer? Oh, it is a doozy.

How fast do things move? Where are the lulls and moments of reflection? And how do you tell the story you need to tell at the correct rate that will keep the reader engaged and interested, but not so action packed and breathless that a reader feels stressed out.

One thing that is true of most books is that they are about the most important period of time for the main character/s, and in that respect the pacing shouldn’t and can’t reflect what real life is like.

For example: me, today? I had a nice breakfast of leftover things on the edge of wilting, played with my kids, and then wrote a bunch of thing.

My main character: she woke up, went to Hell, almost drowned, and then made the great decision to follow a demon into a dark forest.

I often think about how, in all my writing, at the end of the story there comes a great unspoken and unwritten about time where the character chills out hardcore and recuperates from all that happened to them.

There’s TV programming, in, I think, Norway? Or one of those gloriously socialist and Scandinavian countries, where they show five hours of a train moving through the countryside. Or four hours of a burning fire.

Really. This is all it is, and it’s wildly popular.

I get that, I really get that as a writer: that desire to leave behind some of the sturm und drang of the stressful culture of narrative and relax.

I get it, and maybe someday I’ll write my opus about drying paint. But not today.

And speaking of narrative, a picture tells a thousand words, no?This is my kid, diligently picking up flower petals after dropping them flower-girl style, because she didn’t like the mess they made.

So thrilled, so thrilled! Here there be unicorns, spiders, and succubi. I love this book and hope you do too. Things go bad, so bad, for Ms. LeFay and her trusty wizard friend when they try to figure out what’s going on with this hunt that has come to Seattle. And yeah, that’s right, I said Merlin is her friend, just a friend, and nothing else, and jeez, why do people keep thinking it’s anything more?

The Hunter’s Prey

The third book in the Fay Morgan Chronicles, The Witch’s Hunger, is alive and living in Amazon world! I’m so excited to get this story out into the world, and hope you love it. It’s a trickier book than the first two, in that some of the longer plot arcs get revealed, while other parts.

The Witch’s Hunger? Is Morgan le Fay the witch who is hungry, you may be asking? Yes indeed, but the question is, hungry for what? Read the book and see.

On another note, apologies to anyone who pre-ordered the book. You probably got a pre-order cancellation not about it. Due to some misreading on my part of the uploading process to Amazon, things went quickly and terrible wrong. In fact, I believe I was heard muttering at 3 a.m. last night “I’m ready to be stressed out about something else.” I hated to have them cancelled, because I did have the book ready to go in time (hence its publication today), but so it goes.

And last, should you want to write a review on Amazon, please do! (And thanks.)

I’m sick, the kids are sick, and so we are watching too much Frozen (the movie), drinking lots of tea and warm water, and reading lots of books. The kids gravitate toward their all time favorites: anything with the heroic Lowly Worm, as well as bell hooks’ Homemade Love which we can basically read on repeat forever.

I’m reading a young adult book like usual (I’m on the Norton Award Jury for YA and MG science fiction and fantasy, so I read an ungodly amount of great teen fiction). At the moment I’m loving “Expiration Date” by William Campbell Powell. It’s a book that I’ve had on my shelf for a while, and it’s taken me a while to read it, for no good reason besides the title and the cover point to a certain type of dystopian near-future thriller that I’m a bit burnt out on. But, when I did start reading this book, I found something really unique and beautiful. It is an end of the world story about robot children when humans are no longer able to bear kids, and even better than that, it’s a meditation on humanity and personhood that I’m finding quite profound, as well as amusing and provocative. It’s a book that’s as much about being in a band and having an unrequited crush on a cute boy as it is about the end of the world. I highly recommend it.

Whenever I get books to read for award consideration, I never know how well they are doing out in the world. And yes, I suppose I could go look up some numbers and figure this out, but I don’t really want to. I want to take each book as it comes, and do a better job of not judging a book by its cover, and dive into it optimistically. And this book? I hope it is doing really well out in the world.

Soon to be out in the world: The Witch’s Hunger. Pre-order today and get your third fix, um, I mean installment of the Fay Morgan Chronicles.

I went for a walk with my toddler during the middle of the game today. It was spooky–no cars, no humans, anywhere, except for this other duo at the park who were twenty-somethings having a fight in that way of being in love with each other but being incompatible and so bone weary of their loops. They were lovely and vibrant, but I was glad to be on the other side of it all with my exuberant and laughing kid jumping in every puddle and giving me a hundred side glances of love.

There was a moment, when we were almost home again, when all of a sudden I heard screaming from every nearby houses. Even Monster, this asshole dog who lives down the street, started howling. Ten seconds later there was fireworks. My neighborhood is all about the illegal fireworks.

The Seahawks had just scored a touchdown seconds before half-time, and it was this moment where everyone was doing this same thing, in their separate spaces, but feeling the same joy and pride, and even me, not watching the game and being out of step with my city, even I felt something good.

The Dragon’s Secret is not her perfect pancake recipe that happens to be vegan.
The Dragon’s Secret is not dabbing lilac essential oil on her wrists for that all day fresh feeling.
The Dragon’s Secret is not that she’s a giant fire-breathing lizard with a heart of gold.
The Dragon’s Secret is my second book in the Fay Morgan Chronicles, released today and flying around the internet ethers to be consumed by you and you.
The Dragon’s Secret continues the tale of a modern-day Morgan le Fay who has to fight and solve the mystery of the shadowy knights who have somehow managed to capture the world’s most powerful dragon. On top of that, she has to protect the only man she’s ever loved who seems set on throwing himself in harm’s way for the sake of that ancient dragon and the hidden history between them that has laid buried for eleven hundred years.
Link here.

AKA: I live in the banana world of toddlers, and oh the things they say.

“Bad News! The Asteroid is Using the Time Machine”
Which needs to be a cartoon book written by my friend Catherine Rzepniewski and her young son.

“My Poop Plan is Working Right Now but It’s a Secret” Which my Lyra can write and I will edit if she lets me read it.

“Try Not to Sit on the Guinea Pigs, They will Die ” A cautionary Sparrow tale.

“Pretend I’m not Real and Nothing is Real” an existential treatise on everything and nothing, or maybe just a tedious game that goes on and on.