This morning, I had a startling thought: it's one month until the book comes out. Then, I realised it is in fact less than one month, because today is the 19th, and not the 18th. I blame this mishap on believing, in my emotional-over-Anakin-Skywalker state having watched Revenge of the Sith for the first time, that I went to bed after midnight last night but I did not. (Yes, I am very late to the Star Wars party. I'm getting there. And I don't want to talk about Anakin; the wound is still too fresh.)

Anyway: point is, it's less than one month until Speakeasy comes out.

The thing about writing a book, is that it takes a long time. Not just writing the book, although that takes a long time, too. But then the editing, and the tweaking, and the conversations about book covers, and the making of 1920s cocktails. (The last one, truly, has been such a hardship. You have no idea.) It all takes time. So the fact that one day in the very near future, the product of all of that time and work is going to be a real, tangible thing, that people are (hopefully) reading? It's kind of insane.

Good insane. But insane.

So: less than a month to go. Because it's the January 19th today. Not the 18th.