I think that Harold Oblowski’s call in October of 1997 was what kicked off the dreams. Harold’s ostensible reason for calling was to congratulate me on the impending release of Darcy’s Admirer, which was entertaining as hell and which also contained some extremely thought-provoking shit. I suspected he had at least one other item on his agenda—Harold usually does—and I was right. He’d had lunch with Debra Weinstock, my editor, the day before, and they had gotten talking about the fall of 1998.
@Bag of Bones ▫𓂃
(echo:: @ ⌗)