Part IV has been my favorite part of the story. It might even be my favorite thing I've ever written. I've had tears in my eyes typing parts of it, and been completely absorbed by New Orleans during others. I've been an artist consumed. While I'm mucking stalls, I'm thinking about it; before I fall asleep at night, I'm thinking about it. I dream about Spanish moss and iron lampposts. Two weeks from now, when it's in all of your hands, and it's finished, I'm going to be supremely sad. All stories end, and it always hurts a little, despite the joys of completion. After Christmas, I'll start work on Book 2 in the series, and that will be a whole new adventure. But for now, I'm enjoying the sights of this one.
I love the way the cypress look like flora from another planet.
I love the humble, grungy splendor of the swamp.
I really wish I wasn't gluten intolerant so I could have Café au Lait and beignets at Café du Monde.
I'd love to walk down the Rue St. Ann...
And see Jackson Square on a cloudless day.
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