Saturday, August 27, 2011
A Chat With Ed Calkins, The Steward of Tara
It had been some time since I had updated our Irish vampire about "Bryony," so yesterday at the warehouse, while Daniel and Rebekah counted out my inserts, I gave him a quick call.
The Steward was having a less than upbeat day. The previous day, he'd quit one of his jobs, and that happened immediately after his truck had been towed. Of course, Ed had no money to release his vehicle or to get home, which left him in a bit of a predicament.
Yet, what was uppermost in his mind was the future of his immortality, so this I was eager to share. He immediately began talking about pre-orders; he will need at least twenty books, but promised to email the exact amount.
Ed can't wait until October 14th's Vamp Fest, since the best part of the book's release, for him, will be signing books and letting people know where to find him between the pages, the best and most important parts of the story, according to him.
However, while I'm feverishly searching for a kilt (Ed outgrew his and gave it away), he has more pressing issues on his mind.
Like composing a limerick for the scoundrils that towed away his truck.
The Steward was having a less than upbeat day. The previous day, he'd quit one of his jobs, and that happened immediately after his truck had been towed. Of course, Ed had no money to release his vehicle or to get home, which left him in a bit of a predicament.
Yet, what was uppermost in his mind was the future of his immortality, so this I was eager to share. He immediately began talking about pre-orders; he will need at least twenty books, but promised to email the exact amount.
Ed can't wait until October 14th's Vamp Fest, since the best part of the book's release, for him, will be signing books and letting people know where to find him between the pages, the best and most important parts of the story, according to him.
However, while I'm feverishly searching for a kilt (Ed outgrew his and gave it away), he has more pressing issues on his mind.
Like composing a limerick for the scoundrils that towed away his truck.
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