Parris and I returned last night from LA, courtesy of Southwest Airlines Cattlecar in the Sky.

It is nice to be back.  We left August 7.  Scotland and the Edinburgh Book Festival, London and worldcon, the big Robin Hobb event at Freemason's Hall, a long (but very comfortable) flight direct from Heathrow to LAX on British Airlines, Hollywood, meetings, the Emmys, more meetings, parties and more parties.  Oh, and an Ice Bucket Challenge.  (Brrrrr).

Much of it was great.  All of it was tiring.

And this comes right on the heels of my trips to France and Switzerland (for the Dijon signing and the NIFFF film festival) and to San Diego (for comicon), with only brief visits home in between.

Way back when, it seemed like a good idea to concentrate most of my travel for the year into a single two-month period, leaving me the other ten months to stay at home and write.  Well, maybe not.  The trips, individually, were great, and I met some terrific people and had some amazing adventures, some of which I hope to tell you about here.  But taken as a whole, it was too much.  I need to face facts.  I am not thirty years old any more.  Airports, long flights, six-hour long signing sessions, and endless interviews take it out of me, in ways they never did before.  The spirit is willing, sometimes even eager, but…

I do have one more trip this year: a brief visit to NYC in late October to promote THE WORLD OF ICE AND FIRE and see editors, agents, and family.  Elsewise, I am home for the rest of the year… and well into next year, I hope.  Most of that time I plan to spend in Westeros.

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