This is Not an Introduction

I promised by fellow blog writers that I would post an introduction consisting of insightful questions (from them) and witty answers (from me) no later than Friday, July 22nd.

This is not Friday. And this is not that post.

In my defense, I wrote several witty answers while on a plane Thursday. Unfortunately, they are frozen in my documents folder and refuse to budge from there. And I do not have the brain power to work it out just now. Or transcribe it. Hence, my Non-Introduction Post.

Also in my defense, my week in review:

Saturday (eight days ago), a For Sale sign went up in front of our house in Utah.

Monday--after several hours spent removing all sign of actual humans living in our house, a photographer took photos and video for the realtor.

Tuesday I had minor outpatient surgery.

Wednesday we celebrated my youngest's 10th birthday (which is actually today--but keep reading my week) and had the first showing of our house.

Thursday morning my husband and I flew to Boston for a week-long house hunting trip in advance of our cross-country move IN LESS THEN THREE WEEKS!

Friday we toured ten houses in seven hours on the hottest Boston day in eighty-five years. (Serious rant here--if you're asking more than 800,000 dollars for your house, maybe invest 10,000 in air conditioning.)

Yesterday we went back to our top three houses and tried to decide between the "small/needs work/good bones" house, the "isolated but great kitchen and floors" house, and the "expensive, fabulous family room/wooded backyard" house.

And we sold our Utah house. Over the phone. For more than asking price.

Today we made an offer on the wooded backyard house. We were countered. We have countered back. We are waiting for the phone to ring again. And eating room service pizza.

So as much as I would like to tell you why I have a white garden in one of my novels and why I love to make corsets and what five websites I can't live without, it will have to wait.

However, I finally have the confidence to announce the following: I am a writer of historical fiction.

And I have the contract in hand to prove it.

I sold a trilogy at auction to Ballantine on June 2nd and tonight I finally put pen to paper and signed the deal.

What might have happened if Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn had had a son--but their daughter Elizabeth still became queen? Watch for The Boleyn King in the fall of 2012 for book one of my answer.

And I promise that my next post will be an insightful/witty/long-delayed introduction.

Also, I love my fellow bloggers--Patty, Suzanne, Ginger, and Becca, thank you for your inordinate patience and kindness this summer. I promise that once I move to Boston in a few weeks, I will be pouring out words. (I also promise my agent and editor the same.)

And maybe I'll be (slightly) less flaky.