It's ninety degrees in New York right now and nine million percent humidity, and I am on the opposite coast, looking out at the Pacific.
You can still order Jenny Zhang's Guillotine chapbook Hags, and I will send it to you as soon as I'm back in the city, and you won't even believe how good it is. And my second book, Dirty Wings, comes out in a week, and you can preorder a signed copy from the very wonderful people at Word bookstore in Brooklyn, and if you like stories about girls and bad decisions and running away and running toward, and love and death and rock and roll, I think you will like it. You can win a copy here too, from my excellent and very talented friend Courtney Summers, whose books you should be reading too if you haven't read them already.
I haven't written a word in a week and it feels great, and today I went for a long run and thought about the ways in which running and writing are the same: sometimes you don't know what you can get done until you ask it of yourself, and sometimes the best lesson is the difference between when your muscles ache because they want to work harder and when your muscles ache because they need to rest, and the only way to learn is to keep doing it until you know. Maybe when I get back I will have something profound written down but today it is nice to have my whole brain wiped clean except about where my next snack is coming from. Don't you forget to take breaks, too, and be nice to yourself.
See you in a few days, treasures.