A number of things, actually.

First, here are a few things I’m really terrible at: taking pictures, and posting the ones I do take, here.

I would like to fix that.

The last three months or so have been a strange mash-up of lots of solitary writing time on the island, and LOTS of exciting travel time.

Here are some pictures of both:

This is what the winter looked like at home:

Can you feel the frustration?  The long hours?  The ennui?

It didn’t last long.  Because this is what winter looks like in Nicaragua:

And this is what it looks like in Nicaragua at night:

And this is what it looks like in Nicaragua during a tsunami warning, which we waited out in our pajamas at the top of a mountain, while striking intimidating poses:

Back from Nicaragua, I spent a few weeks floating up and down the East Coast, making trips to visit schools, friends and most importantly, to see my tiny adorable goddaughter. Here is what she looked like before I squeezed her into a million tiny adorable pieces:

During this time, I also made a number of trips to NYC, where I am apparently allergic to taking pictures.  But here’s one:

That’s Lady Liberty, beacon of hope and promise.  Behind her is some statue, I think.

And here, sadly, is what happened at my Books of Wonder signing:

That would be the back of my lonely little book, staring longingly at the line of adoring fans waiting in Maggie Stiefvater‘s line. Sigh.

Luckily, the rest of my NYC adventures, though not captured on film, were fantastic. The Teen Author Festival was a smashing success, thanks to the hard-working and endlessly charming David Levithan, and was full of interesting panels, readings, and the chance to meet so many super sweet and talented authors.

Here’s somebody else’s picture, which I’ve just lifted off of facebook:

Don’t we look sweet?  And talented?  And, in my case, like we’re in the middle of what might be either a hearty chuckle or a sneezing attack?

And so ends my winter in pictures.  The sun is shining today, though I’ve heard unfriendly murmurings of snow.  Until I see it with my very own eyes I will continue to bid farewell to winter cold, with its quiet for writing and wanderlust.

It’s been real, but bring on the spring.