Pale, elusive azure.

One of my favorite L.M. Montgomery lines — Philippa Gordon, describing her state of mind in Anne of the Island, says that she’s not blue, exactly, just a pale, elusive azure.

It’s a fair evocation of my mood as I write.

Now if you look at the post immediately preceding this, you may find that surprising.

Yes of course I’m still thrilled thatĀ Bad HousesĀ is about to be on the shelves of comic shops and bookstores and libraries, and I’m so excited to celebrate with folks at Bridge City Comics on Friday.

But I’m also…azure.

Publishing a new book is a milestone, and I’m really glad it’s happening.

But it also makes me think about where I was in 2007, when the book before this one was new, and the people who were in my life then.

Some of them are gone now, and by gone I mean dead and I miss them and I wish they weren’t.

It’s tempting to end the post right there.

But I’ll bring it back around.

I’m also grateful for everyone who’s still here, and everyone who’s come into my life since; colleagues, readers, friends. (Some of you fit in multiple categories.)

Thanks.

 

 

 

 

 

 

4 Responses to “Pale, elusive azure.”

  1. Patricia

    I’ve been thinking about this post since I read it and have come to the following conclusion. I think that people who have children measure their lives in their children’s milestones. “That happened the year Karen broke her arm,” etc. But for those of us who don’t have children, adulthood can become a sort of endless blur, especially if we don’t change jobs very often. So I think it makes sense that when something big like A BOOK happens, you pause and reflect on what has changed for good and bad.

  2. Sara

    I think you’re onto something there, Patricia. You do find different ways to measure time depending on how (and with whom) your time is spent. I remember when I was first starting to go to American Library Association conferences, it boggled my mind that my more experienced colleagues would say things like “Now which Chicago was it when x happened?” Now that I’ve been to…gosh…I think at least four ALAs that were held in Chicago, the confusion makes more sense.