A Letter to My Patient Readers Awaiting LAIR OF DREAMS

Dear Lovely-and-Patient Readers,

Many of you have been asking, “Hey Libba—when is the second Diviners book, LAIR OF DREAMS, coming out? It’s been moved on the schedule so many times we have lost faith in the old gods of the book pub-scheduling universe. We have stopped leaving small plates of cheese before their effigies. We no longer sing the playful songs of patient waiting, songs taught to us by our sequel-anticipating ancestors as they camped on the shores of Robert Jordan/George R.R. Martin-land. Madness reigns, Libba! Blood and chaos in the streets! Twinkie shortages! We look into each other’s eyes, wordless, lost, for what can be said when you promised us a book in April of LAST YEAR and have managed to blow through every date since? For the love of all that’s holy, will you please stop messing with us?!”

Gentle readers, I hear you. I am sorry. I thank you for bearing with me, for being so understanding, and out of a sense of undying gratitude, I want to give you all the things made with butter: “You deserve a book from me, my plucky darlings. But in the meantime, here—have a Butter Pop™ on a stick. Also, the number for a cardiologist. Regrets are for the weak.”

So here’s the good news upfront: It is finished.[1]

No way! You cry from the streets where you have begun to set small fires and tell the rats about a story called THE DIVINERS which was started long, long ago—so long ago, you have forgotten how heavy the book was in your hands. The muscles of your arms have now atrophied.

Way, I whisper, as I fly by on roller skates, tossing glitter across a blighted landscape.[2] (I am dressed in elaborate layers of seafoam-green chiffon while I roll by, because I know how to make an entrance.) Pump some iron and ready your arm strength, my doves, because that sucker is in copyedits as I type this. And, barring some nightmarish apocalyptic scenario that sees us all drinking our urine to survive while trapped in an abandoned amusement park run by mutant clowns[3], come August, LAIR OF DREAMS will be a real, live book with an actual beginning[4], middle, and end…ish which you can find in bookstores across America—nay, the world. Even Canada[5]. Hooray! Take up the Eddas once more! Tell the rats I come anon; your sacrificial plates of cheese have been answered.

I wish the writing had gone faster. This book has been quite a crucible. And the truth is that writers are people[6], and people have lives that are, at times, less than convenient, and, at other times, downright bothersome. Sometimes, there are trials to be gotten through. At those times, all we can do is hunker down and wait for the dust storms to pass so that we can see clearly enough to do our work.

We keep at it. We keep trying. Listening. Thinking. Considering. Reconsidering. We write what we can and edit what seems false as it occurs to us, which sometimes isn’t until much later. We try to be as conscious as possible.

Ask the rats. They’ll tell you.

It’s been a long, tough haul. Thank you for your patience, faith, and cheering. I appreciate it more than you know. And I really hope you’ll enjoy LAIR OF DREAMS when it comes out IN AUGUST. FOR SURE. Unless apocalypse-mutant-clown-urine-smoothie scenario.

More fun things to come as we countdown to August! Stay tuned. And enjoy the Butter Pops.

All the best,

Libba

[1] The book, that is. I have not become Jesus.

[2] By “blighted landscape” I mean the ruin my house has become whilst I was engaged in the writing. (Also, it is unacceptable that I just used “whilst.” I am not British. This is pretentious and should not be excused.)

[3] Or, you know, whatever happens in your post-apocalyptic fantasy world.

[4] Fun fact: This book has had approximately SEVEN different opening chapters. Isn’t that DELIGHTFUL? Ha! Hahahaha! I LOVE COUNTING! IS FUN GAME! Where is my morphine? Has anyone seen my morphine?

[5] 100% true: Canadians are so nice they will let you stay in their houses and eat all their snacks and dry pasta for free! Or maybe those guys were just too embarrassed to say, “No, really, this is not the bookstore. You are in the wrong place.” It is weird that they don’t return my emails.

[6] Except for David Levithan, who has many clones. Otherwise, how could he do everything? I ask you.