Good things about this book cover, from someone who is not a designer:

- White space draws the eye!
- Cameo necklace sets time period* for even a casual browser!
- High-contrast red splashes on graphic black and white is visually appealing!
- Typesetting looks dandy, everything well-placed.

Bad things about this book cover:

I’m sorry, Mr. Darcy’s a what?

* Sure, it’s the WRONG time period, but it’s a time period!

Some things make a post!

1. I read last night at NYRSF for the Federations event, alongside K. Tempest Bradford, Allan Steele, and guest host John Joseph Adams. The other readings were great, and I managed not to pass out, which was my only goal for the evening. (I dream big.) The crowd was amazing – thanks to everyone who stopped by; it was lovely to have friendly faces to look at when I got nervous.

2. I got nervous a lot. My stage fright is no joke. (Actually, that’s not true. I called my mom ahead of time and made my usual, “I have the vapors, we’ll have to call off the cotillion!” crack, so technically it was a joke, even if I spent most of the evening trying not to barf up my own heart.)

3. When I got home, I sat down to unwind with the pilot of Warehouse 13. By the time I was finished, I wanted to throw myself out the window. What a terrible pilot, holy crap. I wrote it up for Tor.com, if anyone wants to know how SyFy’s new flagship show is!

4. Hint: it is terrible.

5. Tomorrow I leave for Readercon! I am very excited. I am also packing my bags with some vegetarian granola-type bars that will provide nutrition for me, and pre-mourning my impending, unfamiliar distance from my yuppie soy lattes.

Lots of posts about Quantum of Solace this weekend, which I might see when it’s out on DVD (apparently I save my movie-going for really quality films).

But poor Bond just can’t seem to get a foothold in my interest, mostly because of the line I remember most from Casino Royale, where he’s falling in love with Vesper Lynd, and thinks maybe he can make it the long haul with her, seeing as “the conquest of her body, because of the central privacy in her, would each time have the sweet tang of rape.”

You keep it classy, Fleming.