the magician’s land
You’re in Los Angeles. You’re on book tour. You’re in a cab – you just got off the flight from Houston. It’s hot, though not as hot as Houston was. Your cab driver is from Ghana. His name is Willie. He used to be on their Olympic track team, now he’s moonlighting as an actor in LA. He was on The X-Files. He gives you his card.
(Later you look him up on IMDB. He was in season 4, “Teliko.”)
You check your phone. You missed a call from your publisher. You put your phone back in your bag.
It’s Wednesday, two in the afternoon pacific time, which is a special time of the week in the books industry. Civilians see the New York Times bestseller list on the weekend, but the Times privately circulates the list to the book industry on Wednesday afternoons at five o’clock Eastern time (in other words, now). At that moment, once a week, all authors and editors everywhere quietly bow their heads and mutter a prayer to the Retail Gods and wait for whatever judgement has been placed upon them.
You’re waiting too, because your book just got published last week. But you’re pretending to yourself that you’re not waiting. You’re so cool you’re not even checking your voicemail.
Now you stop narrating in the second person.
I had pretty good reasons to think that I’d be somewhere on the list. The Magicians and The Magician King both “hit the list,” as they say in the parlance. And believe me when I say that I was over the moon when that happened. Up till that point I had never been anywhere near the Times list, and not for lack of trying. I’ve been at this a while. So I remember the moments when I got those calls: once in LA, once in St. Louis. There’s a ritual: the whole team at Viking gathers around a speakerphone — my publicist (Lindsay), my editor (Allison), my editor’s boss (Clare).
Those times I wasn’t at the top of the list. More towards the middle part. Middle-to-lower. But still, a lot changed for me when that happened.
That was three years ago. I don’t dwell on sales numbers too much — I cash the checks, but I don’t do the math, because that way madness lies (and also unlike most of my characters I’m not that good at math). Trilogies — anecdotally speaking — tend to either fade away or gather momentum as they go. I had reason to hope, just based on the volume of fan mail I get, that the Magicians books have been building, so based on that I figured I might hit #5. If I had to guess — and I couldn’t stop myself from guessing — that’s what I would have guessed.
But really: I was good with whatever. I was in my little internal Zen garden. Making the list was a dream come true, and the rest was just a popularity contest, and I was over that. That was junior high stuff.
The phone rang again. I let it go. I could catch up with that stuff later. Willie and I were talking about the Magicians TV show. But after a while we ran out of things to talk about. There was a pause. So I checked my voice mail. Here was the message:
“Lev it’s Allison and Clare and Lindsay YOU’RE NUMBER ONE!!! YOU’RE NOT PICKING UP YOUR PHONE WHICH IS REALLY ANNOYING!!! YOU’RE NUMBER ONE NUMBER ONE NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER NUMBER ONE … !!!”
I didn’t listen to the rest. Just then a text message arrived:
Lev!!!!! It’s allison! Check your voicemail! You are #1!!!!!!!!!! #! New York Times Bestseller !!!!!!!!!!!!! Congratulations !!!!!!!!!!!
Was I zen about it? I was not zen. Not even a little. I may have punched the air. I may have cried a little bit. I think maybe Willie cried a bit. Fuck yes it was a popularity contest, and I was queen of the God damned prom.
This didn’t happen overnight: I started writing fiction freshman year of college, but when The Magicians was published? I was 40. I am now 45. I’ve been at this every day, just trying to be myself on the page as honestly as I can, for a quarter of a century. When I got that message I felt like Julia when she finally does her first magic spell, after being shut out of Brakebills and wandering in the wilderness for years. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t fucking believe it. I waved my hands and said the words and it worked.
It wasn’t just me. It was you too. There is no medium in the world as collaborative as writing is. You don’t get anywhere as a writer without having great readers, who put time and money and thought and tears into making your words mean things. Maybe it’s a polllyanna-ish thing to say but it is also the stone cold truth. Any writer will tell you the same.
I put my head in my hands. I looked out the window for a while. I didn’t want to share the news quite yet – I wanted it to myself for a second. Then I looked at my phone: the New York Times had tweeted it, and social media was starting to blow up. E-mails started packing into my in-box. I looked out the window a bit more. People will tell you that they love LA, or they hate LA, and they may or may not mean it, but let me tell you: at that moment, I fucking loved LA.
The cab arrived. I paid Willie. We hugged it out. I was at the Paramount lot, where I was about to sit in on auditions for the Magicians TV show, which is another completely incredible story which I’ll write about at some point. Paramount security had no idea who I was, so I had to stand around in the parking lot waiting to be rescued by a production assistant, but I didn’t care, not in the slightest. My phone was at 3%, so I just had time to call my wife and tell her the news before it died. I didn’t care about that either.
Soon time would pass, everything would die down, life would go on, everything would go back to normal. Little things would start to bug me again. I would have seasonal affective disorder. I would doubt myself, and others, and the world. The usual.
But not for a while.
A couple of weeks ago I blogged about this beautiful Magicians print by Jillian Nickell.
I’m a little bit obsessed with it. So much so that I made Jillian talk to me about how she created it. The conversation went as follows:
How do you get started on a project like this? Do you reread the books? Just start sketching and free-associating?
I actually had just recently re-read the first two books, I went on an overseas trip and took them with me on the plane. So when I started to work on the poster, a lot of the elements were still fresh in my mind. I wrote down a long list of details, story lines , and characters that could potentially go into the poster, and then I just started making rough sketches. Almost always before I start any project, I will do a really rough “sketch” in Photoshop outlining the basic shapes, composition, and values but very little specific small details. It helps me get the big decisions out of the way before getting very detailed.
It was especially helpful for this project because there are just so many things that I wanted to add to the poster that just would not all fit. Since it’s a poster for all three books, I had to try to pick and choose parts from all three to try and get them to fit together in a way that makes sense.
I didn’t expect you to focus so much on the characters’ faces — I thought it would be mostly clock-trees and talking sloths and that sort of thing. Needless to say I was pleasantly surprised. How did you go about figuring out so precisely how they looked?
I definitely wanted the focus of the poster to be on Quentin, since the whole book series is told mostly through his point of view. It made sense to have the other kings and queens there as well, who are incredibly important to the story. I really wanted to draw Quentin with his white hair, which is such a striking image to me. I gave him a white fur-lined cape, which matched the hair and also just felt like it fit his character.
I had read an interview with you which described how you imagined some of them looking, and I had my own ideas of how they should look, so I tried to blend those two ideas together. I always imagined Julia with freckles and long dark hair, and Elliot with slightly wavy hair. There were also some very specific descriptions of character’s styles, such as Janet’s haircut. And Alice, obviously, as a niffin, is blue and glowing. I wanted her to feel as though she’s radiating magic, and I think the glow helps achieve that.
Both Quentin and Julia have a somewhat sad/serious expressions – considering what happens to both of them throughout the series this made sense. I feel like Janet and Elliot have sort of this sarcastic, jokey front they put on for everyone else, but are really trying to cover up some emotional scars that come out later on in the books. I wanted their expressions to convey a bit of this as well.
I think they did.
I went with a grayscale palette for most of the drawing for a few reasons. It gives a cooler feel which I especially wanted to play up, with the scene from Antarctica in front. Whitespire is, obviously, white. The whole background needed to be a starry night scene, since night almost always feels more enchanted. The white hair, the foxes, the sky, the castle…There was a lot of grey, black and white that needed to happen.
Also, it allows the gold and blue to pop even more. I chose to add the electric blue originally for Alice, but added more since that color just feels like buzzing energy.
Gold also feels very magic. In the books you’ve got gold keys, gold crowns, gold coins, gold hands (or at least, that’s how I pictured those things). It worked so well to have that gold glow effect in the windows of the neitherlands, the gold glowing clock faces, or the glowing blue and gold orbs. Really, anything that helps hint at an undercurrent of magic that’s always there and often visible or just below the surface.
The funny thing is, now your images are reshaping the way I picture the Magicians world — it’s a feedback loop. Looking over your work, it seems like you’re drawn to magical or at any rate other-worldly subjects in general. What do you like about them?
I always wanted magic to be real, I guess, and illustrating those things out is one way of making it so. Also, I’m always drawn to images that transport you to another place, and make you not want to leave. My favorite picture books as a little kid had scenes in them that took you somewhere else and made the world seem enchanted, and I still love that feeling.
I published a book! On Tuesday. I haven’t had time to blog since then.
We had a fantastic launch event in Brooklyn, in which I talked a lot and we drank wine and there was an epic Magicians trivia showdown. The winner won one of these.
Also some of my author friends acted out a scene from the books. Erin Morgenstern played Quentin. [>drops mic<] If you live in: Minneapolis, Houston, LA, San Francisco, Chapel Hill, or Atlanta, check the Events Page, because I’m coming to your city in the next couple of weeks.
Publishing a book is by definition something only writers experience, but even writers, or anyway this writer, lack the words to express what it’s really like. You feel proud, and vulnerable, and exhilarated, and satisfied, and ecstatic, and a tiny bit sad that this thing you made is now going out into the world, where its fortunes, like the fortunes of everything and everybody everywhere, are beyond your control. But it’s amazing and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
It’s been made easier this time by the fact that the reviews have been good. In fact they’re the best reviews I’ve ever gotten—I think now that people have seen the full arc of the trilogy, it’s easier to get the point of it all. The New York Times, Boston Globe, Washington Post, LA Times, New York Times (again!), Miami Herald … I don’t actually read the reviews, you understand, but people tell me they’re good and send me tiny snippets of them, which is all I really want to see. Here’s a good snippet from the New York Times:
If the Narnia books were like catnip for a certain kind of kid, these books are like crack for a certain kind of adult. By the end, after some truly wondrous scenes that have to do with the dawn (and the end) of existence, ricocheting back and forth between the extraordinary and the quotidian, you feel that breathless, stay-up-all-night, thrumming excitement that you, too, experienced as a child, and that you felt all over again when you first opened up “The Magicians” and fell headlong into Mr. Grossman’s world.
I’ve given a lot of interviews too, including this one about my influences (which I especially like), and this one about how great C.S. Lewis is (worth a click for the beautiful illustration), and this one on NPR, which I gave from Comic-Con. And this is my account of hitting rock bottom in my first attempts to write a novel.
Must run. More nice things to come, including a small-but-interesting announcement.
One: it’s happening. Tomorrow. Tuesday. I’m excited.
Two: you can order signed copies. A lot of indie bookstores will do this for you, but if you’re in New York I’m going to recommend Greenlight, which is my local neighborhood bookstore, and they’ve been very supportive of the books. Order from them and I’ll just wander over to the store and personalize it for you.
Three: there is now such a thing as a boxed set of the Magicians trilogy. It looks like this:
I’ve got one sitting on my dining room table. It’s a good-looking item.
Four: don’t forget about this incredible Magicians print by Jillian Nickell.
Four: If you’re in Brooklyn, or within striking distance of it, come out to the launch event tomorrow night (Tuesday) in Fort Greene. There will be trivia, prizes, reading, signing, and (I think) wine. There will be hella special guests: Margaret Stohl, Erin Morgenstern, Lauren Oliver, Michelle Hodkin and my very own twin brother, Austin Grossman. Don’t miss it.
Or if you do miss it, you can come see me Wednesday night at the Barnes & Noble on the Upper West Side.
And if you’re in Boston, the wretched hive of villainy that spawned me, come out to Brookline! I’ll be there on Thursday night at the Brookline Booksmith.
Don’t screw me on this one, Boston. I come from you.
I’m hitting the road.
This site has an events page which is pretty up-to-date, but for the sake of thoroughness here’s a brief user’s guide to the tour, or the first leg of it anyway. I’m sure I’ll be consulting it myself in the next month to figure out where I am. The events will be as fun as I know how to make them: very informal, lots of Q&A. Come hang out.
July 19: Brooklyn. I’ll be at the Barnes & Noble in Park Slope, reading and talking and signing. This is like the pre-tour tour. I won’t have copies of The Magician’s Land yet—it’s not out till August 5—but I’ll be handing out booklets of the first chapter and the map.
July 24-26: San Diego. I’ll be at Comic-Con from Thursday to Saturday, doing events all three days, panels and signings. Saturday I’m on a real monster fantasy panel with George R.R. Martin, Patrick Rothfuss, Joe Abercrombie and Diana Gabaldon. Come find me if you’re there.
July 29-August 1: Orlando. When it comes to conventions I play favorites, and LeakyCon is my favorite. It’s chill, it’s authentic, it’s hilariously fun, John Green will be there, Rainbow Rowell, Holly Black … If you can get there, get there.
August 5: Brooklyn again. This is the official launch event, so if you’re going to one event in New York City, I’d say come to this one. There’ll be trivia, special guests, and a surprise or two. I’m not even making it sound as fun as it’s going to be. It’ll be funner. Come.
August 6: Manhattan. For the uptown crowd, I’ll be at the 82nd St. Barnes & Noble.
August 7: Boston. This is my hometown, and I used to live around the corner from the Brookline Booksmith, where I would read books and not buy them because I couldn’t afford to. Now I’m going to speak there.
August 11: Minneapolis. I’ll be at the Roseville Library.
August 12: Houston. Unless I’m mis-remembering, this is my first event here ever. It’s at Murder by the Book.
August 13: Los Angeles. I’m in the TV business now, so LA is now where my soul is stored. I have visitation rights. Afterwards I’ll be reading at Vroman’s in Pasadena.
August 14-15: San Francisco. I’m here for two nights, first at Rakestraw in Danville, then at Kepler’s in Menlo Park.
And then there’s a nice long break. Later this summer/fall I’ll be in Atlanta, Brooklyn several more times, Chapel Hill, Toronto, Austin, Nashville, and Santa Fe, all of which I will post about in good time. If I have failed to come to your town, it’s only because Viking didn’t send me there. I don’t get to choose! If I did I would have included Seattle and Portland. But I don’t.
See you on the other side.
Einstein said that the reason we have time is so that everything won’t happen at once. This last couple of weeks, I’ve felt like there wasn’t quite enough time to go round.
Two weeks ago I turned 45. The next day — June 27 — my younger daughter turned 4. That same morning, my father died. He was 82.
My father was a brilliant, charismatic, strange, intimidating, driven and sometimes very funny man. He may have been the best-read person I have ever met, and believe me I’ve met some well-read people. He was the son of a Chevrolet dealer in Minneapolis, and the first person in his family to go to college, and he grew up to be a major poet and an intellectual force of nature.
He and I had a complicated relationship. We both made our careers reading and writing, but he was an avatar of high culture whereas I dropped out of graduate school to write fantasy novels and glossy magazine articles. We chose different paths. There was some distance between us. It’s something I’m still thinking about and trying to understand, even after his death, and will be for a long time.
By rights that should be the end of this post. If you’ve lost a loved one then you know how incredible it is that life keeps going, but it just does. It won’t stop. Life is fucking callous that way.
The first copies of The Magician’s Land arrived. The Magician’s Land trailer, which we’ve been working on for a few months now, went up online:
I’m so happy with how it came out. It racked up 16,000 views on Buzzfeed in the first 24 hours, so something must have gone right. I only wish we could have used everybody’s videos, we left some fantastic readings on the cutting-room floor. I argued for releasing a whole slew of different trailers, remixed with different clips, but apparently Viking’s budget for video production isn’t infinite. Go figure.
I’m truly grateful to everyone who submitted, and to my fellow authors, who allowed themselves to be turned into living advertisements for my book. I’m extra-grateful to Ian Dorsch, who volunteered out of the blue to do the soundtrack and delivered a brilliant one. I know the trailer’s not actually for me, it’s for getting attention for the book, but it had the knock-on effect of making me feel very loved and supported by the community at large, at a time when I really needed it.
And the week still wasn’t over. That was Tuesday. On Wednesday night I got a call from my producer and the two geniuses who’ve been working on the pilot script for the Magicians TV show since literally last August. They were standing around a speakerphone yelling. Word had come down: Syfy greenlit us. They’re making the pilot.
This is a big break for me. I’ve been talking to people in Hollywood about The Magicians for five years. I’ve seen writers and producers and directors and agents (four of them) and options come and go, but this is the first time anybody has doubled-down and is going to shoot something. People are going to dress up as Quentin and Alice and Eliot and Julia. Someone is going to build Brakebills (or more likely find some place that already looks like Brakebills). Big expensive computers are going to make it look like magic is happening.
My sole contribution to this has been to kibitz a bit and then cash some checks. The people who are actually making the show happen are Michael London, Sera Gamble and John McNamara, and it’s happening because they are extremely brilliant and surpassingly determined. What makes it even nicer is that I really like them personally.
Meanwhile as all this was going on I was having a professional crisis (can’t talk about it, but it’s over now) and writing and closing the cover story for this week’s issue of Time.
Also I’ve been giving interviews about The Magician’s Land. My promotional schedule is starting to rev up. I ought to be posting about where I’m going to be in the next few weeks, and I will do that, very soon, but right now I just cannot deal. There’s some detail on the Events page but basically in the next couple of months I’ll be doing a national tour, plus I’ll be making appearances at Readercon (that’s tomorrow), Comic-Con in San Diego, LeakyCon and Dragoncon, and a bunch of assorted book festivals.
I will post all the details, but I’ve got an early call tomorrow and really badly need to take a shower and stare at the walls for a while. But for now, two dates to remember. One is next week, July 16 at the Bell House in Brooklyn: I’ll be the VIP at a taping of NPR’s Ask Me Another quiz show. It will be very fun. If you need extra encouragement, John Flansburgh from They Might Be Giants will be there too. There. That should do it.
The other date is August 5, which is the official launch event for The Magician’s Land. Come if you can. It’s going to be a bit special.
A couple of weeks ago I put up a post about the Magician’s Land trailer and how that’s going to work.
(Which in case your clicking finger is tired is like this: it’s a reading of the first few paragraphs of the book, but crowdsourced. Anyone can send in a video of themselves reading a line. We’ll stitch together a collection of them into one big Frankentrailer. More details are in that post I just mentioned.)
I also mentioned that some of my favorite writers are going to make cameos in the trailer. But I didn’t say who. Now I’m saying who.
When I was cobbling together the initial idea for this trailer, I made—as part of the cobbling process—a list of great writers, people whose work I revere in a major way, who in my wildest dreams I could ask to be in the trailer. I then shaved down the list to include only the ones whom I had some reason, however tenuous/delusional, to believe had liked or read or at least heard of The Magicians. Then I shaved off the ones whom I’d already overtaxed with other favors.
Then I e-mailed them and asked them if they would read a line as part of the trailer. Then I thought about what I’d do when they said no. But they didn’t say no. Most of them said yes.
Here’s who’s reading lines in the Magician’s Land trailer. Ready?
J. Courtney Sullivan
I know right? I know. I still can’t believe it.
And — and — guess who else is reading: you are. With them. Read a sentence, send it to email@example.com before June 1, and there’s a good chance you’ll end up in the video. Especially if you have some fun with it. People have done some amazing things. There is puppetry. There is needlepoint. There is Minecraft.
But we’re not sated. We crave more.
I’m serious. This is not a theoretical question.
I’ve never done a book trailer before. A theme song, yes, but never a proper trailer. And I wasn’t going to do one this time either, except that I had an idea that I liked too much to leave it alone. But I need your help with it.
Here’s the idea: I’m going to put together a video of the first few paragraphs of The Magician’s Land being read aloud. But I’m not going to read them. You’re going to read them.
It works like this. I’ve split the reading up into individual sentences. They’re at the bottom of this blog post. Each sentence needs a reader. If you’re up for it, pick a sentence and make a video of yourself reading it aloud and then send the video to me at firstname.lastname@example.org. (I recommend using wetransfer.com for files over 25 MB). When we’ve got all the sentences covered, an actual video editor will stitch the videos together and make it all look pretty. The result: a crowdsourced book trailer.
Boom. Pretty simple, really. But there’s also a twist. And a catch.
The twist is that I’ve asked some of my writer-friends to read sentences too. There’s going to be some cameos. I’ll announce names in a couple of weeks, but I think it’s fair to say that these are writers whom you know and love. I certainly know and love them. They’re definitely the sort of people one wants to be in a trailer with.
The catch is that I’ve got a limited number of sentences to go round. I don’t know how many people are going to want to do this, but we’ll probably end up having to make some choices about which videos to use. So think about fun/creative ways to do your reading. You could read in a tree. Or in costume. Or underwater. You could act out your sentence, or sing it, or make an animated short out of it. Not that any of this is mandatory, but fair warning: if we get a lot of submissions we’ll probably use the funnest ones first.
If you’d like to be part of this, scroll down for a list of the sentences to choose from. We’re going to try to wrap up production by June 1, so send your videos in before then.
That e-mail address again: email@example.com.
And here are the sentences that need reading. The ones in brackets have already been claimed for a Celebrity Writer Cameo, so just choose from the non-bracketed ones:
[1. The letter had said to meet in a bookstore.]
2. It wasn’t much of a night for it: early March, drizzling and cold but not quite cold enough for snow.
3. It wasn’t much of a bookstore either.
4. Quentin spent fifteen minutes watching it from a bus shelter at the edge of the empty parking lot, rain drumming on the plastic roof and making the asphalt shine in the streetlights.
[5. Not one of your charming, quirky bookstores, with a ginger cat on the windowsill and an eccentric, bewhiskered proprietor behind the counter.]
6. This was just another strip-mall outpost of a struggling chain, squeezed in between a nail salon and a party City, twenty minutes outside Hackensack on the New Jersey turnpike.
7. The cashier didn’t look up from his phone when the door jingled.
[8. Inside you could still hear the noise of cars on the wet road, like long strips of paper tearing, one after another.]
[9. The only unexpected touch was a wire bird-cage in one corner, but where you would have expected a parrot or a cockatoo inside there was a fat blue- black bird instead.]
10. That’s how un-charming this store was: it had a crow in a cage.
[11. Quentin didn’t care.]
[12. It was a bookstore, and he felt at home in book-stores, and he hadn’t had that feeling much lately.]
13. He pushed his way back through the racks of greeting cards and cat calendars, back to where the actual books were, his glasses steaming up and his coat dripping on the thin carpet.
[14. It didn’t matter where you were, if you were in a room full of books you were at least halfway home.]
15. The store should have been empty, coming up on nine o’clock on a cold rainy Thursday night, but instead it was half full of people.
[16. They browsed the shelves silently, each one on his or her own, slowly wandering the aisles like sleepwalkers.]
[17. A jewel-faced girl with a pixie cut was reading Dante in Italian.]
[18. A tall boy with large curious eyes who couldn’t have been older than sixteen was absorbed in a tom Stoppard play.]
[19. A middle-aged black man with elfin cheekbones stood staring at the biographies through thick, iridescent glasses.]
[20. You would almost have thought they’d come there to buy books.]
[21. But Quentin knew better.]
p.s. By the way this whole idea was inspired by an amazing project called Star Wars Uncut which is really worth checking out, and might be useful if you’re looking for inspiration
Remember when I said the book was done and locked? A couple of weeks ago Viking surprised me with a second set of page proofs to review, to make sure the changes I made to the first proofs went through OK.
So I marked those proofs up too and sent them back. I forgot that finishing a book has a bit of a Zeno’s paradox feeling about it: the book is the arrow that can never reach its target.
But I think now it really is done. Or at least it’s asymptotically approaching done-ness.
It’s even getting reviewed, though so far only in what we call “the trades,” meaning book-industry magazines like Publishers Weekly that cover books a couple of months before they come out. The feeling is unnerving—The Magician’s Land still seems like an intimate part of me that I can’t believe people are actually looking at. Reviews so far have been really great, which makes me happy. But still.
Meanwhile it’s time to get the promotional apparatus up and shambling. (For some reason I picture it looking something like the giant steampunk spider in Wild Wild West.) A lot of people kind of lament the promotional part of being a novelist, but I don’t really mind it. I’ve got a product to sell, I’m not going to pretend it’s special just because it happens to be a novel.
I’m not very good at selling it. But I don’t mind trying. Most of the time I actually enjoy it.
So my summer’s filling up with events, most of which haven’t been announced yet, and I’m probably not supposed to announce them here, so I won’t. But I’ll be popping up all over the place and then touring properly in August. For now I’ll just mention something that’s happening at Rutgers on May 1 that involves Catherynne Valente, so you know it’s going to be quality.
And on May 31 I’ll do a public conversation with Deborah Harkness in New York as part of BookCon. Again: quality.
And if you’re anywhere near Brooklyn, scrawl August 5th on your calendar. That’s the official pub date of The Magician’s Land, and I’m planning an event that night that should be be a bit special.
On Monday I turned in The Magician’s Land, well and truly and for good. After they copy-edit your book you get one last shot at it: they print out the typeset pages, and you can mark them up in red pencil. It’s like your last vacation with somebody you really like but who you know is about to break up with you.
I had two weeks of that, and by the end those pages were reduced to a tattered bundle of raggy, crumpled paper covered in red. But I made my last marks and handed them over, almost 10 years after I started the original Word doc in which I wrote The Magicians. I still have the file — it’s called “The demon in the mirror was smo.” (It’s supposed to go on: “-king a cigarette” but for some reason the Finder cuts it off; the name refers to a scene that ended up going nowhere.) It shows a creation date of June 19, 2004.
It’s a pretty emotional moment for me. Like most big moments in life it had no soundtrack. There wasn’t much drama. I handed a plastic envelope with the pages in it to my editor’s assistant, in the lobby of the Penguin building, then hit the subway because I was late for an event. But in my head it was a big moment.
And that’s my news. Oh, and I have an event Monday night in Manhattan. I’ll be reading something autobiographical and embarrassing. So there’s that.
And if you’re currently enrolled in a creative writing graduate program, think about submitting your work to this. I’m judging this year.