I don’t recall the exact date the baby monster apparated into my living room, but it was a number of years ago. He was a small fluffy thing with big brown eyes and steel-blue down, and he made soft, deep signs when I wrapped my palms around him. Back then, he was just a short story, really, and I couldn’t imagine him getting much bigger. I was wrong.
Writing a novel is huge undertaking. From coming up with ideas, to actually hooking a New York publishing contract, this may be a perilous journey you’d rather not take alone. If you’re considering such a trip (or already have open wounds and waning morale), perhaps my experience will provide a bit of welcome camaraderie — … Read more