IMUST GO TO MY ROOM, WITHOUT SUPPER OR FURTHER DELAY. Right now—to my room. Which apparently is no longer in the house, mind you, but in a 12-by-11 shed out in the back yard, a shed that was here when I arrived 25 years ago, did temporary duty as a spare storage space, and then for the last nine years housed Jack the Demon Cat, until he recently got a bigger idea. But now I must go to my room, and write a new book (yes, not my “new” book, but another new book) and apparently I will be doing it somewhere other than in my house, er, his house. Oh, heavens, this is confusing. But here’s the scoop, over on the book blog.