Out of the Closet (a little).

My mother came to visit yesterday on her way down to Oceanside. We did the usual: talk nonstop, clean my house, complain about the government, eat lunch out, buy kitchenware, paint our toenails and stay up way too late talking.

And somewhere in the middle of that packed day, I printed out a copy of Ember, handed it to her and said, "I wrote this. You can read it if you want."

She sat down and read through the pages. She smiled. She laughed. She pointed out erroneous homophones. When she was done, she said she liked it. And that she was touched that I'd dedicated it to her. And that all those other mothers who'd told her, back in the day, that the Disney versions of the fairy tales presented a less violent, less frightening message to little girls could just stick it--they didn't have books dedicated to them.

Aw. Have I mentioned that my mom rocks?

In other news, Jane at Dear Author was kind enough to give Ember a mention.