Yep, that’s what my editor emailed me this morning, that there’s honest-to-god books in their office, sitting in boxes, stinking up the place with all their new-book smell (side note: can we buy such a thing from the fragrance aisle at Shopper’s Drug Mart? I might spritz that all over my body).

I should be seeing evidence mid-week or so, says he. Little does he know that I believe nothing until I see it, and this could indeed be a sick joke perpetrated by a sick person (likely my brother). Though I did receive a nice note from a reader who had consumed the eBook and was going back to read it again (doubtlessly to find wayward Canadian “ou”s and the occasional reference to washcloths and salt n’ vinegar chips).

In the meantime, the lovely Andrew Pyper is in town signing books as part of his book tour downtown and I shall try to get over there, though a prior engagement may delay me. I have cast his cover-blurb for Deadroads in bronze and am contemplating getting a tattoo of it. Or I may tattoo it on one of my children so I can see it more easily.

Also, please be looking at the newly touched-up Deadroads cover, which is a little less murky.