Real World

Hello America,

Lock your doors, seal your windows, and for the love of God, stay indoors, because Mia Thompson is back in town.

Not so much because I'm a homicidal maniac, but because I'm a terrible driver.

After what I will hereby refer to as: "The airplane ride which never ended, where the food sucked and the kid two seats up wouldn't stop puking his guts out"--it's a working title-- I am now back in America.

Can't really say that I'm glad to be back from wonderful Vacation Land where all that exists is my dear family, laughter, lots of coffee, and the excessive intake of ones favorite foods.

I hugged my sister and my mother goodbye at the airport in Copenhagen with only some mild crying, then got on the 8 hour flight to do the serious crying. I'm sure everyone between seats 29C to 33F were very appreciative that I opted to save my heavy duty bawling especially for them. You're welcome.

The problem with Vacation Land is that it's a magical place in which you've only been granted so much time. Should you exceed the limited time you've been given, it gradually stops being the enchanted Vacation Land and inevitably turns into the boring Real World.

The Real World is full of non-magical and dull everyday things like: Bills. Work. Dirty dishes. Alarm clocks set way too early.

Though I have not yet figured out a way to stay permanently in Vacation Land, I have figured out a way to escape the Real World for periods of time, just like so many authors before me.

It's called Fiction City and it's where I spend every possible moment while my body stays behind in the Real World.

I'm sure SILENCING SAPPHIRE is waiting patiently for me right now, welcoming me with an imaginary piña colada in one hand and an action-packed sequence in the other.

Bliss.

Xoxo,
Mia