Friday, September 25, 2015

Book 2 is in the BAG!

Book 2: HUNTING THE MERROW is now in full edit mode. That's right. It's on like Don-key Kong, friends!

The release date is December 1 and the party will be at 6pm, Thursday, December 3, 2015 in the Elephant Tea Room, Cranston, RI. 

Some highlights from my writing journey:

  1. Spending an icy January morning at the New Bedford Whaling Museum Research Library reading Journal of the Whaling Vessel, The Bark Leone of Fairhaven  (Did you know whaling ship's were called Barks? Me either.)

  2. That time in Wildflour (also in January) where I started yelling like a deranged lunatic in glasses, exclaiming, What am I doing with my life? What does Czechoslovakian Folklore have to do with ANYTHING? Good times.
  3. That other time where I gathered a group of friends and paid them (with beer) to listen to me summarize 28 chapters while an impending thunderstorm lit up the night sky all around us. That was at What Cheer Tavern in June. If you go, tell Dave I sent you, and I insist that you have the Mofo Fries– cheddar, Tapatio crema, cotija, crispy garlic, cilantro, salsa $8. That's right, I said, MoFo Fries.

  4. I sent out my first Author Updates Newsletter! I had a great response rate. Those who had signed up received a link to my first chapter AND a sneak peek of the cover (Featured above. Thoughts on the cover are ALWAYS appreciated.)
    Click HERE to sign up for my Author Updates Newsletter so that you, too, can be in the know. 

So, do YOU want to read the next chapter? Be my guest ...

Thursday, April 16, 2015

LIWNS - Mary Stewart, Thank you.

I'm starting a new series entitled, Letters I Will Never Send (LIWNS).

(September 17, 1916 – May 9, 2014)

Dear Ms. Stewart,

Lady Mary Stewart. That's quite a title, but I admire that you didn't like to use it. It's quite pleasant to imagine you in your Edinburgh garden, toiling away in the soil while imagining new places to take your readers. You are an inspiring lady, and I would like to take this opportunity to thank you.

I realize now, that you are one of the first women who exposed me to the Historical Fantasy genre. 

(The center cover was the one I read in 1986)
My father, the stonemason, Raymond, strongly encouraged me to read your work, The Crystal Cave (published 1970) sometime in 1986. I was around the age of twelve and given these words from my father,

"You will smell the horses and the leather from their saddles. You will feel the biting cold of the mist, rising from the dark forest. You will hear swords clashing against chainmail while men die in agony from fatal blows." 

That was good enough for me. I devoured the book, then went on to consume the next three in the series:

Book 2: The Hollow Hills (pub. 1973)
Book 3: The Last Enchantment (pub. 1979)
Book 4: The Wicked Day (pub. 1983)

If you are not familiar with these works, they are based on the Arthurian Legends. You know, Camelot and all that. But these books were told through the perspective of Merlin. For a more specific description, I borrowed this from Wiki: The Crystal Cave is a re-telling from Merlin's point of view of his childhood and youth up to the time of Arthur's conception. The Hollow Hills is Merlin's recounting of Arthur's birth and boyhood until he is made king. The Last Enchantment is the story of Arthur's kingship as told by Merlin. The Wicked Day is a re-telling of the story from Mordred's point of view.

But, back to my thank you.

(In Scotland, at home, in her garden)

Ms. Stewart, you taught me the art of show, don't tell.

One of the most important skills a writer can have. You taught me to be in the moment. To smell, hear, taste, feel, see what is around me as I write, and then, and only then, describe, in specific detail, all these wonderful sensations to my readers. When I write, and I find that what I have written is flat, I say in my head,

"Be there, be there, be there. What's around you? Be in the moment. Write it ALL down."

Knowing that you, too, wrote about a previous time period, has helped me to believe in myself as a writer of events long past. The only way I can do this, is to see the scene in my head, and then record it. I could not have done this without you.

Thank you, Lady Stewart, for showing me the way...

Friday, December 5, 2014

Merrow are now sprawled across all platforms. No Excuses.

(I don't know who made this fantastic illustration. If anyone does know, please tell me so I can give them credit!)

Dear Readers,

For those of you who have read my book and told someone about it, thank you. For those who have used social media to tell others about my book, thank you. For those who have left a review anywhere about my book, thank you.

I am writing book 2. It's happening and it's exciting. Please stand by.

Today, I am very excited to announce two things.

1. Waking the Merrow is now available EVERYWHERE! books are sold online. Okay, maybe not everywhere, but the big, heavy hitters now have evil, blood-thirsty mermaid action for your reading pleasure.

Here are the links (which are always available on my Books page)


Amazon: PaperbackKindle 
Barnes and Noble: Paperback  Nook 

2. I made Penny Watson's top 20! So excited to be along side some great authors AND Chris Pratt. He can guard my galaxy anytime. :)

I will be celebrating with Penny at her Holiday Bash and Book Fair, tomorrow! You can get all the information you need here. If you do go, you could win this:

Friday, November 7, 2014

Mermaid on the radio. Mermaid out and about.

I was on the radio today! I even got to wear headphones!  It was very exciting. I was on WADK 1540AM in Newport, RI. The pleasant and calming Bruce Newbury, host of Talk of the Town, walked me through my interview, and  I had so much fun. It was a blast! If you missed it, you can listen to the entire show below (brought to you by my husband, the nerd.) Go on and click the link below.

And, tomorrow I will be at the 2nd Annual RI Authors Expo in West Warwick, RI. If you are interested in grabbing some books for yourself (OR, think Holidays!), please stop by. I will be the one in the green mermaid wig. 

Tuesday, August 5, 2014

Book Club Parties - I'm your gal


Since my debut novel, WAKING THE MERROW, launched in early June, 2014, I have attended three book club events (or Salons, if you're fancy, and, IMHO, it's always good to be fancy.) On my events calendar, I have another one scheduled for August, and two other women have expressed interest in hosting their own events.

From each event, I have had anywhere from five to ten people buy my book before the event, and then, at the event itself, I made several more sales.

As for the parties, they have been so much fun! I love to talk. Having taught for twelve years, I have missed blabbing away to captive audiences.

Each host did something unique that complimented my novel. One host ordered a Pu Pu Platter (my main character's husband, Paddy--a big man--eats a whole one by himself), and served my main character's favorite drink--bourbon. She also had another character's favorite beer, Narragansett (a Rhode Island fav, also named after the RI's central bay where most of my story takes place.)

Another host served Pimm's Cup cocktails, a vintage drink served in one of my more historically-based chapters. 

Before the last two book clubs, I helped each host design postcards. Here is a sample:

Interested in having me at your book club? Contact information can be found here. Are you an author thinking about jumping into the book club circuit? You should. Read this article for more information and encouragement.

The pretty lady on the left is the hostess with the mostest! That's me, in red! Isn't her house GORGEOUS? Also, check out the nifty bookmark on her mantle right below fellow RISD grads, TALKING HEADS, TRUE STORIES on vinyl ...

Wednesday, May 28, 2014

Path to Publication- This Is JUST A TEST.

I'm in the home stretch now, and man, I'm tired. But hold up a sec, I wrote a book.

I wrote a book!

Damn. I wrote a book. And now it's ready to be unleashed on the world. If you're wondering how I got here, let me tell you something--I made a lot of mistakes. I fell on my face. Time and time again. But I got back up and kept going. If you are out there reading this and thinking of all the things you wanted to do but didn't--don't worry. You have plenty of time. Go do it.
That's right, go fall on your face, get your butt up, and keep going. 

You are supposed to make mistakes. It's how we learn. The Beastie Boys knew it. I know it, and now, you need to say, "Yeah, that's right. I'm going to go and  _________________. And it's going to be hard, and I will fall down, but it's all good. I WILL make mistakes."

But now it's time to celebrate. There's a party going on in here for real and you are all invited!

I will let you know how it goes in a few weeks and give an outline on how to throw a kick-ass launch party. Right now, however, I need to go kick it.

Yo I'm out and I'm gone
I'll tell you now, I keep it on and on ...

Saturday, May 3, 2014

Everyone Loves (Well-Designed) Swag!

I'm wearing my designer hat. A good friend with awesome hair helped me design these products.

I wanted to make something that people would want to wear--not chuck into a closet (or, worse, into the goodwill bin).

I also wanted something that was not a billboard, something more like:

Curious person: Hey, what's that on your shirt?

Kind, swag-wearing person: Oh, this? Well, I know this author, and she wrote this awesome book about mermaids. No, not the nice ones--these mermaids kill people. It's cool. You'd love it.

So, I give you my swag. I give you an opportunity to spread the word, grass-roots style, about my book. If you like, please support me!

You only have until May 18, 2014, and then this offer is gone. 

I used the crowd-sourcing site Why? Because I did not want to buy 200 shirts, all size medium, all unisex. This seemed like a better idea.

What do YOU think? Head over to and see for yourself!

I also made some ads to put on FaceBook, Twitter, and Instagram. Here they are:

Tuesday, April 15, 2014

Goodreads (My) Book Giveaway - 10 lucky winners!

You, too, could be a winner. Go on and click it. It doesn't hurt--I promise.

Goodreads Book Giveaway

Waking the Merrow by Heather Rigney

Waking the Merrow

by Heather Rigney

Giveaway ends June 14, 2014.

See the giveaway details at Goodreads.

Enter to win

Monday, March 31, 2014

So what is this book all about? OR What are you peddling now, Rigney?

It's me again. Pimpin' my new book.

It's what I do these days. Making noise, selling a dream. 

Today, I would like to present my book trailer! Filmed, edited, scripted, produced, and directed by me. I am a one-woman production. All me, all the time. (Wait. That's not true. I do have one AMAZING employee, Jo. She's my editor and I adore her. She's probably reading this and cringing at all the improper coma usage.)

Presenting my book trailer in HD! At least, I think it's in HD …

Thoughts? Concerns? Questions? Let me know. I adore feedback!

Also, I have (sadly) not blogged any information about the substance of my novel Waking the Merrow. My apologies. Let me clear that up. Here is my book blurb. What's a book blurb? Helpful, well chosen words usually found on the back of a book, enticing you to open the book, read more, then (hopefully) hypnotically making you buy the book.

Prepare yourself for hypnosis (or you could go watch TV, a fish tank, paint dry … It's your free-time. Use it wisely, dear reader.)

In 1772, angry Rhode Island colonists set fire to a British ship, sparking the American Revolution. Taxation without representation was a motivator. So was the vengeful, man-eating mermaid who had it out for the commanding officer.

That was then. This is now. 

Mermaids, or merrow, still hunt in Narragansett Bay, but these days they keep a lower profile.

At night, centuries-old Nomia seduces smutty frat boys, lures them into icy waters, and feeds them to her voracious kin. By day, she and her half-breed daughter attempt to blend at the coastal Village Playground. 

But Nomia slips up. She makes a friend. Then she makes that friend disappear, and someone notices.

Thirty-something Evie McFagan just wants to make it through working motherhood. But she’s a blistering stew of issues—snarky alcoholic and a friendless funeral director who just witnessed Nomia dismembering a guy at the nearby yacht club.

When Evie believes a mermaid stole her baby, who will help? The Merrow of Ireland? Or maybe anti-hero Evie will surprise everyone, including herself, and will summon the strength to save her own family. 

Intertwining the stories of two primordial families with the colonial history of Narragansett Bay, Waking the Merrow is a dark historical fantasy.

So? Socks still on your body? Or did I blow them off? 

Well, if they're still on, maybe I'm not your kind of author. That's all right. You stopped by anyway and I appreciate it!

Thursday, March 13, 2014

My Cover Story

Ladies and gentleman, readers, fans, friends and family …

I would like to announce the birth of … MY COVER!

 eBook cover

Mock-up for 6"x9" paperback

I'm not going to lie. It's been a wild ride. 

I designed both covers featured above. This was not my original intent. Those who know me said, "You used to be a graphic designer. Why aren't you doing the cover?" and I had my answer ready.

Because I don't want to. I'm writing. That should be my main job. There are a lot of wonderful artists out there. I would be happy to pay them to bring my cover to life.

So I went out and hired two wonderful artists. They are both amazing. But I learned a few valuable lessons. The first lesson? I am a control freak. I admit it. I own it. I wear it like a name tag. Both artists labored away on my behalf, and both times I was not excited about their work. Is that their fault? No. I should have left them alone and done it myself. How did I think it was okay to give the reins over to someone else?

A book cover means EVERYTHING. If you have ever written a book and then chucked it out into the consumer world, I'm sure you would agree.

Your cover is your interview suit. It is your business card. It is your handshake. It tells your readers who you are and what you can offer them. 

You are lying to yourself if you believe a cover does NOT make or break a writer. I mean really, would you hire someone to be your assistant if they showed up in overalls with lipstick stains on their teeth and stains on their shirt? Hell no.

I wish we lived in a society where looks didn't matter, blah blah blah, it's what's on the inside that counts, blah blah blah. But we don't.

You and I both know, dear reader, that when a book jumps off the shelf, it isn't because it has sloppy typography and a half-disguised image 

(*Please note: options like the ones I just explained were not offered by either of the amazing artists previously mentioned.*)

I also learned this: No one is going to work harder for me, than me.

If you are in the Independent Publishing Business, you know this. You are an agent, a PR machine, a publisher, a web designer, a booking agent, and your very own personal assistant. It's just the way it is. Honestly, I don't mind at all. At the end of the day, if things are ugly, it's my fault and no one else's.

So I did it. I made my own cover. I put my artist hat back on, rolled up my sleeves, and fired up PhotoShop Elements. I already had a Pinterest board filled with inspiration:

I did my homework. I checked out other covers in my genre, took notes on what worked and what didn't. Sometimes, knowing what you don't want makes knowing what you do want all the more clear.

I like my cover. I would buy it. But I'm not the consumer, you are. Tell me what you think, dear reader.

Would you buy my book?  How do you judge my cover? Leave a comment and let me know. 

After all, I'm driving this here boat, and I have the power to change everything.

Tuesday, November 12, 2013

Free YA Short - a Zombie Cat named Marvin, Zombie Old Peeps, & Zoe (Marvin's Owner)

So, you like YA, zombies, cats, old people, and a quirky narrator? Well then, do I have a story for you. And it's FREE! Who doesn't like free? Why would they have a saying, "If it's free, it's for me!" if peeps didn't want free goodies? 

Head on over to Stone Crown Magazine, and download Issue #2 which includes my zombie cat tale (pun, pun, pun). It's titled, THERE’S SOMETHING, SORT OF, DEFINITELY WRONG WITH MARVIN 

Here's something else for free! A sample of my story. Enjoy!

Chapter 2
In Which Zoe Discovers Algebra Applies to Zombies

So, like, I already summarized the events this far.
Another great word, huh? Sum-er-IZED. I just love big words!
Let me demonstrate what happened in the last chapter in like, a math problem. This will be so fun!
Marvin + (cemetery + lightning storm) = Zombie Cat > dead neighbor
Don’t you love Algebra? I loved it the first time my math teacher, Mr. Lyons said, “Take out your Algebra book.”
He so said, bra!
Yeah, well, the equation has changed to
dead neighbor x (Zombie Cat) = UNdead neighbor
That’s right. Turns out Mr. Auburn is not dead, like dead, dead. He’s like, Viking Zombie from Icelandia undead.

Like my Marvin image? I made it myself! Feel free to get your own Marvin swag though Society6

Tuesday, November 5, 2013

My Needy Newborn (Novel)

After a year of toiling away--while being a mother, while being a social human--
I completed my second novel. 

The first novel, in case you're hung up on the word "second," is in a drawer. I learned from it, I enjoyed writing it, and someday I might go back and do something with it. But for now, it's relegated to the bottom of a box. But I digress...

The new novel is like an infant. 
I gave it life with my body and mind, and it now lives, outside my body and mind, in its own world. Ten percent of the time, I think of my novel/infant with the awe of a new parent, "I made this! How clever it is! Look at it, world! It's the greatest thing ever created!"

Then there's the rest of the time.
It's just like a newborn--always needing my attention, always sucking my time, always dirty, always full of poop.

I sent it off to the babysitters, aka the beta-readers. They looked after it for awhile and are giving me their reports. "It was very good overall, but sometimes it misbehaved."

So, my work is not done. I'm in the third draft stage where, as its mother, I'm teaching it manners, how to express itself properly and clearly, while grooming it for inspection by the outside world.

In the meantime, I'm also grappling with the decision about where my novel should go next. Much like the choice a parent makes regarding their off-spring's education, I worry endlessly about making the right choice. The classic, public vs. private school vs. homeschool debate is now the (very new) traditional publishing vs. self-publishing debate.

As writers, we all want our novel babies to have the very best attention, the very best care, and the comfort of knowing that they WILL BE A SUCCESS!
Even if they smoked a little pot in high school, maybe bombed the SATs, or just plain sucked at sports, we want that novel to win, win, win! and then buy us a nice vacation home when we are old and gray.

But that's not why we create, is it? We create because we have something inside of us that needs to break out and live outside our heads. We write because we are driven to do so. If you are reading this, and have written a novel, a short story, or even a poem, you know. You know that, in the end, it's all worth it.
The act of creation is greater than the end product.

And it doesn't matter if the novel ends up in a doctor's office (on the waiting room side table) or never leaves home, we are proud of what we have done.

At least this is what I am telling myself as I strategize my novel's next move... calculating my pageant momness, giving my novel pep talks, and choosing just the right cover, so I can boldly say,

Buy my novel! It's the greatest thing ever created because, I MADE THIS!

Thursday, August 1, 2013

Update My Blog, Lackey (or) What I Would Do with an Intern

It is summer.

I am never home.

I have, however, been working on my novel.

I even picked out a title:


It will be available...when I finish it. Sorry, I am a one woman show. Right now, I am wearing the editor's hat. If you've spent time with me, you've seen me toting around my printed manuscript. It has more stains on it than the creamer counter at Starbucks. In fact, I think it might have spent a few, quick seconds hanging out on said counter. It has red pen all over it. There are post-it notes, paperclips, giant slashes, and big notes like: GO LOOK IN YOUR PURPLE NOTEBOOK FOR THIS NEW CHAPTER everywhere.

It's Franken-Manu. Poor thing.

I can, however, tell you four things I have learned while wearing the editor's hat:

1. I use the word "that" too much. That word is everywhere. It's kind of useless, like daylight savings. Watch for it and see. You'll notice it's like garnish. You can take it off the sentence plate and your word food will still be lovely.

Here's an example:
All I saw was the faint image of trees and darkness., but I heard that laughter, shrill laughter…

Here's me at my worst:
It was weird that I thought to think of him at all., that I had dreamt of him and that he had urged urging me to wake up.

2. I have sharpened my continuity vision. As I read for pleasure, I'm catching all sorts of boo-boos (and excessive use of the word, "that.") I also notice it on television, in movies, and in my own work. I have changed the last name of one of my main characters several times. I have had a crowd of men talking and have forgotten who spoke last.
I have had characters live in a six hour day (no, the scene was not in, or near one of the global poles.) 
These boo-boos are no longer. Thank you, editor's hat.

3. I know why some authors make one, really wonderful book and then suck after their debut. You work hard, real hard, on your first big deal, then, with a little luck, you get an editor to help you on your next one. But perhaps you rely on the editor to make your next piece better? Perhaps your edge is gone, like all the coffee and olive bread you ate while editing your first baby? Perhaps you are too burned out from the long process of the first one, you just don't have it in you to top yourself?
Maybe. Maybe not. It's just a caffeine, blurry-eyed speculation.

4. I need an intern. Someone who will buy the groceries, cook dinner, vacuum, weed, mow the lawn, do the laundry, clean up the house, and make me coffee (then clean the damn French press--this alone, is worth an intern's weight in gold.) I need someone to do all the things Heather does while wearing the housewife hat. With an intern, all I would need to do is play with Livi, paint, and edit  write.

Fantastic writer/mom/artist/ seeks intern for all menial jobs. 
Pay is non-existent, but the glory of being around our home would result in fame and fortune in the future (possibly. No guarantees.) Hours are long, but rewarding. Must be interesting and self-less, eccentric and efficient, good-natured and hardworking. Please send all inquiries to this slightly frazzled mermaid.


Thursday, May 30, 2013

Where I Began...

My daughter, exploring the woods as her mother did so many years ago...
My parents sold my childhood home today.

As they've been packing up their lives into old liquor boxes and moving crates, I have been wandering, dream-like, from room to room, and all around the five wooded acres. It’s similar to walking through spider webs. 

Memories catch me unawares, sticking in my mind, pulling me into the past. 

People I have not thought of, experiences, small inconsequential moments, and conversations long past are draped invisibly over every tree, every wall, every window--everywhere I turn.

My sensitive disposition has been overwhelmed. I feel like a clairvoyant in a graveyard. Too many voices fill my head at once, demanding my attention. It has made saying farewell difficult, painful almost. I sympathize with anyone who has sold their childhood home, or any home that had been part of the family for an extensive amount of time.

A home is a family member.

I am the daughter of a stonemason and a mother who has been known to dabble in the arts. These two individuals designed their home together. A modified saltbox was what I was told to say when describing the style of our house. In my young mind, I always envisioned the Morton’s Salt Girl with the yellow umbrella featured on the side of our home.

The interior is an open floor plan, with a loft that features private rooms. Privacy, however, was not prevalent in an open floor plan, and so I frequently fled to the safety and comfort of the surrounding woodland forest.

It was here that I felt at peace. 

My father did as well, and I believe my younger brother was comforted in his youth, by all the trees, the brook, and the promise of building the perfect “fort.”

We had our favorite places. 

A hollow created by briars where a small person could climb in and feel safe, surrounded by thorns.

The Hole, a strange moat my father had dug around a maple tree. He lined the moat with stones, creating a wall inside the hole. Both my brother and I have ridden our bikes into The Hole, falling down three feet and landing precariously against the trunk of the maple. Many a nervous driver worried themselves into a cold sweat in fear of backing into the moat.

The brook was another haven. My brother and I were forever searching for fish in the trickle of water that ran over moss-covered rocks and through leaf clogged inlets. No fish were ever found, but that didn’t stop us from wishing.

In the spring, frogs and salamanders brought awe and wonder to our lives. Many an afternoon was spent damming the flow of water to create deep pools that we tried, unsuccessfully, not to fall into. There were countless waterlogged penguin-walks to the house; our jeans soaked and heavy, our shoes squishing, and our extremities frozen. 

The Rocking Rock was a large rock on another even larger, flat boulder. We could wobble it with our small legs, creating waves and splashing one another.

As we grew older, and spent less time together exploring and playing in the woods, I found solace in the trees, the large boulders, the deer paths that I would follow until they faded away into nothing. I could gather myself, recharge, renew my soul. Being a sensitive, artistic kid (read, the weird kid who said strange things at strange times),

I was often exhausted from trying to act “normal.”

The angst that follows the pressure of being social, popular, beautiful, interesting, humorous, cunning, and fun could be shed like a second, unwanted skin. After junior high, and then high school, I walked for hours. I sat and stared at the trees. I listened to the birds. I avoided hunters by hiding (can't believe I was never shot.) Sometimes I made a fire or brought my journal and wrote frustrated rantings about how much I hated my life, my small town, and my lack of an interesting existence.

How misguided I was.

I had no idea that the time I spent in the forest created who I am.

My father bought THE HOBBIT for me in fifth grade. I read it cover to cover. I also found Stephen King around that time. These two literary influences confirmed my surroundings for me. The shire was no different then our backyard. The farm in CUJO could have been down the street. The wooded town and swamp scene in CYCLE OF THE WEREWOLF could have been a stone’s throw from my doorstep.

As I went on my walks, more and more in the cover of darkness, I believed in the possibility of horrors in the woods, but I knew the truth of it.

There was nothing out there but squirrels.

The knowledge that I was alone, always alone, comforted me, helped me squash fears of the unknown, gave me strength to face anything, made me fearless and daring.

But it was fun to play, “what if?”

What if a werewolf did live in the forest, and would prowl beneath my window at night?

What if that strange box with the D.E.M. logo on it, down by the river, the same one our brook ran into, housed a beast that they didn’t want to be found. But a young girl did find it. She peered inside and saw feral, yellow eyes glowing in the darkness…

What if rabid dogs, vicious and violent, lurked in the woods, waiting to pounce on children, tearing them to pieces?

What if small fairies lived beneath the large mushrooms that grew near the immense trees? What if they caused mischief in the light of the full moon, while I slept nearby?

I wanted to believe these things, but I knew they were not real. They made my life rich, these beliefs, they made me who I am.

So, now, as that haven, filled with the beasts and fairies of my imagination is passing on to a new family, one that will provide new children for the forest, 

I need to let it go.

Those memories will remain with me. Some I share with my family, some I carry in my heart.

Yes, I am sad, but I am also forever grateful for that home, those woods, that brook, those dark places of nature where ferns grow wild, lady slippers bloom, and skunk cabbage lures unsuspecting children into releasing its foul scent.

 Thank you, 707 Sherman Farm Road… Thank you.