Neil Gaiman's Journal

I'm falling off the world for ten days to get something written. Not sure if I'll be able to post from where I'll be hiding out (or even if I'll be able to get e-mail there.) This is being posted from Dave Mckean's studio computer, in Dave's wonderful Kent oast-house studio. You cross a rickety log bridge across the koi pond to get here. Dave built both the bridge and the pond when he moved in, and the koi fish just get bigger and stranger, while the logs get increasingly precarious.

"What's it like when it gets icy?" I asked, seeking some kind of reassurance.

"Absolutely treacherous," he said, with relish.

American Gods has been nominated for a BSFA award this year, as best novel. I'm so proud I could pop. (Getting awards, as I said somewhere else on this blogger, you learn quickly - especially if you judge them - are just horseraces, and don't mean much. Being nominated for awards, however, is really pleasant, and means you wrote something people thinik is worthy of recognition.)