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Way, way back in the mists of time—last October, at the World Fantasy Convention in Columbus, Ohio, to be precise—I sat down for a wild, wide-ranging, and totally serious conversation with Brent Bowen for Adventures in SciFi Publishing.

The full recording of our conversation can be found here.

I think it came out pretty well, even if our conversation was completely dour and not at all lighthearted or frivolous.

Dear New Mexico Weather,

Perhaps you didn’t receive my earlier letter.   In fact, I’ll have to assume that’s the case.  Not only because I never received a written response from you (but maybe that’s my fault for not making my expectations clear), but also because it is snowing as I type this.

Sure, not a LOT of snow, but it’s snow, in the air, falling between the sky and the earth.

I am a sugar snob. 

Well, okay, the issue isn’t so much about the sugar itself.  More about how it’s served.  (And by “sugar,” I mean “sugar.”  Artificial sweeteners don’t count.)

I judge restaurants and hotels on the sugar issue.  Because I’m a jerk, I suppose.

So, a while back I wrote a long and comprehensive post about the multiple publication delays that have hit the Milkweed books.  I also mentioned that the books have moved to a new editor within Tor, and that things appeared to be back on track. 

And that continues to be the case!  In fact, I’m over the moon about my new editor.  We’ve had several great conversations about the books, and it’s clear that we’re entirely on the same wavelength.

I received the official editorial letter for The Coldest War last month.  (Just a few weeks after my new editor received the manuscript, and about 21 months after the manuscript was originally submitted on the contracted deadline.)  The editorial suggestions were absolutely spot-on.  They honed in on exactly the issues that I personally wanted to improve in the next draft anyway, and also provided some great advice on how to go about these improvements.  So I’m really happy with the notes, and with the revised version of The Coldest War.

The long wait for editorial notes had a silver lining, too.

Please stop conspiring to drive me mad.  For you shall surely win.

Yes.  Soon, you will crush my sanity like an overripe canteloupe, and when I go gibbering to the madhouse, wrapped in rags and possibly my own filth, I shall hear your heartless laughter in the incessant howling of the wind.