My feet are dead from running from store to store, my right hand is numb from signing books — something no author should never ever complain about. My trip started in Seattle, then continued to Los Angeles. Driving to various bookstores, crisscrossing the city in the parking lots they call freeways — almost missed my stop, Vroman’s, a really nice bookstore where I laid out my slide show for an audience that I think liked it. I indulge myself a little, talking about the fur trade, a world built on beaver and other fur goods like the hand muff, topics that fascinate me and that inspired the writing of The Orphanmaster. Then it was off to Anaheim for the American Library Association convention, which had hordes of avid, pleasant librarians standing in line to receive copies of new books, including mine. Do not get between a librarian and her historical fiction. I am now ensconced in a spiffy San Francisco hotel on Geary Street, conking out before more bookstore stock signings and another presentation at a store, Book Passage, tomorrow.