The Magic Kingdom
I'm so freakin' tired. You have no idea. My eyes are gritty and my voice is raspy like I've smoked two packs a day since birth.
Translation: the 30th Annual RWA Conference was a smashing success.
The reality of attending a conference with 2000 romance writers will probably overwhelm you—or make you spasm. I don't want to be responsible for that, so I'm not going to go into much detail. However, I can give you some highlights.
- The Magic Kingdom. I'm very disappointed to say I didn't meet Mickey. Where was he? On vacation? I expected to find him lounging by the pool (which is the only reason I hung out there—really). The Swan and Dolphin resort was a good venue (the staff was awesome). I do have to say, though, that the dolphin statues were very weird, looking less like dolphins and more like drugged-out fish.
- Booksignings! My publisher booksigning rocked. For most of an hour and a half, I had a crazy line of people waiting to grab a copy of my books, including advanced copies of Tempted by Fate, which comes out in December. The Literacy signing was also fantastic. Thanks, everyone who stopped by to pick up a book or just to say hi.
- On being a Grand Central author... It's quite lovely, actually. Each conference, the GCP team takes it's authors to a swank dinner. This year I sat with Roxanne St. Claire and Kristen Painter. They tried to get me into trouble. They almost succeeded, but I had a flash of my editor watching me dance on the bar top, her mouth agape, and I decided I'd continue to be the good girl I really am. Maybe next year.
- Hanging with my homies. The great thing about the conference is that I get to see old friends and make great new ones. This year, I hung out with Allison Brennan, Marilyn Brant, Laura Moore, and Heather Graham to name a few.
- Outlet stores—sigh. Julie made me go shopping. Okay, we had a deal, and my end of the bargain was that I'd take her to the Coach outlet. I shopped for five hours. It's a record. I think I deserve a merit badge.
I have pictures, but due to technical difficulties you aren't getting them. It's a real bummer, because you know how awesome I am with the photos. Oh well. Maybe I'll tweet them. Keep an eye out.
If you didn't go and have questions, ask me. I'll give you answers—within reason. Because what happens at RWA...
Taking Care of Business
Do you know how many blog posts I've written in the past week? A whole heck of a lot. I've been asked to guest blog during the month of July, and I'm cranking out the posts to turn in. Don't worry—I'll post details when I know the whens and wheres of the event.
You know where I'm going with this, don't you? Can you blame me? I've written so many blogs, I don't have it in me to write this one. But as tempted as I am to post a Gone Fishing graphic and flake out, I can't bring myself to let you down. That's love. Except it's the vague and shallow kind of love that only merits random miscellanea (see below).
So long, Madrid.
I'm back in San Francisco, and I feel pretty good about it. Yes, I miss Madrid—and New York, for that matter. But there's something refreshing about having the ocean and the fog again. It's good to be back.
I'd rather clean the toilet.
A few days ago, I got the proofs for my next book, TEMPTED BY FATE. Don't tell my editor this, but proofs are my least favorite part of the publishing process. (Translation: it's utter torture.)
Picture this: you get a copy of your book, formatted for printing. Your job is to go through and make sure the pages are set properly and that everything is in order (no typos, that all the copyedits were inputted, etc). Sound easy? It is. But it's freaking tedious, especially after you've already read the book several times in the previous few weeks.
A blast from the past.
I'm getting together with my best friend from high school today, and I'm beyond excited. It's been twenty years since I've seen her. Life tore us asunder. (Insert dramatic sob here.) But several weeks ago while I was in Madrid she emailed me, and we're seeing each other for lunch. I have no expectations, but I know it'll be lovely regardless of the outcome.
Vamos Argentina!
Argentina is advancing to the next round of the World Cup. They play Germany on Saturday, a game which may cause a rift between me and my sister. She has a crush on one of the German players but—dude—the Argentinians are way hotter. Especially the goalie. And Messi is a futbol god. There really shouldn't be any question of who to root for.
Disney World, here I come.
At the end of July, I'm headed to Orlando for the RWA National conference. Why should you care? Because I'll be signing books at the RWA literacy event on July 28th (I think). Stop by Disney World's Dolphin and Swan Resort if you're in the area, say hi, and buy a book for a good cause.
Sneakiness.
Did you notice how I just slipped a little bit of World Cuppiness into this post? I'm sly that way.
Speaking of posting...
I haven't written a craft post in forever. Anyone want one? And what would you want? Character stuff? Plotting? A discussion on scene? Pacing? Dialogue? Let me know if you've got things you want to discuss.
Adventuring
Yesterday morning I woke up and decided I needed adventure. So I got dressed, walked to the panadería to get a sandwich for the road, and then headed to the train station. Next stop: Segovia.
When I came to Spain, I thought I'd check out Granada, maybe Malaga and Toledo, but Segovia wasn't on my radar. But then I mentioned visiting Toledo to one of my new (Spanish) friends, and she said (somewhat wistfully), "I quite enjoy Segovia."
So there you go. And there I went. Lucky for you, I took pictures, so it'll almost be like you went along with me—only you didn't have to slather sunblock all over yourself.
The aqueduct. For those of you unfamiliar with Roman innovation, it's a fancy bridge that transported water. Segovia is in the background.
The cathedral. It was the biggest cathedral I've ever been in—I'm pretty sure. Things I noted about the interior: it was at least thirty degrees cooler than outside; there were more than a dozen small chapels circling the main nave; and it was all freakin' big.
I got whistled at by a construction worker inside the cathedral. WTH? That's just wrong, or sacrilegious, or something. Maybe he thought he was in tight enough with the Big Guy that he could get away with lascivious thoughts in a holy place.
Me, outside the cathedral. Aren't I cute, despite my lack of makeup? I love those earrings too. My sunglasses make me look like an insect-superhero though.
Approaching Alcázar, the big-ass castle in Segovia. If you were here for a history lesson, I'd tell you it was an Arab fort back in the 12th century, and a Roman one way before then (or so one infers), until it became a favorite place for royalty to chill.
But you're not here for a history lesson, so I'll tell you that there was a lot white fluffy stuff floating in the air. Pollen, anyone? And the moat was empty—I was minorly disappointed by that, but the suits of armor they had standing all over the place made up for it a little.
For two euros extra, you could climb up 152 steps to the top of Juan II's tower (hidden behind the trees). And to think I was paying eighty bucks a month to go to the gym to use the StairMaster.
The restaurant where I had my two hour lunch. Although the sign is false advertisement, because my fork was never lonely. It was always accompanied with at least a knife and sometimes a spoon.
New friends! I was sitting at the bus kiosk, waiting to go back to the train station, when this blonde accosted me. It turned out they were awesome, and fun, and from New York. So we met up for tapas and drinks later that night in Madrid. Craziness ensued, as it does when I'm involved. Sorry—can't give you details, because what happens in Spain stays in Spain. Let's just say it involved peanuts, Mui Mui slippers, and a very cute Argentinian guy.
Stay tuned for my next adventure, which may or may not include flamenco dancing and pigs. See you next week.
Tinkerbell
"I did something that's going to make you think I'm crazy," my friend Dawn confessed as she filled a kettle with water.
Turning a kitchen chair around, I sat facing her. "More crazy than I already think you are?"
"Yes." She opened the cupboard and took down a tin of tea. "Tinkerbell wasn't feeling well, so I called a pet psychic."
I stifled my grin before it got out of hand. Tinkerbell the cat slinked into the kitchen, giving me a superior look as she swished her tail in my general direction.
Dawn glanced back at me, obviously waiting for one of my witty remarks. "You aren't going to say anything?"
"Truthfully, I'm stunned into speechlessness."
"It's not as crazy as it sounds though," she said, dropping tea bags into mugs and pouring hot water on top. "I would have spent more at a vet, and they would have given her medication instead of offering a solution."
"And the pet psychic told you what was wrong with her?"
"She had an irritable bowel. I changed her food and gave her some herbs and now she's as good as new." Dawn turned around and paused. Then she admitted, "I asked the psychic about Tinkerbell's mental health as well."
I bit my lip. When I was sure I could look appropriately serious, I said, "How is Tinkerbell's mental health?"
"Great." My friend set a mug in front of me and joined me at the table. "The psychic said Tinkerbell loves us very much. She's very happy in the new apartment. Also, she sees herself as dainty and feminine."
I looked at the large gray furball sauntering across the kitchen. "Really?"
"I know, she's kind of big now, but when she was little we used to tell her how cute and petite she was. But that's not the strange part."
"Do I want to know what the strange part is?"
She leaned across the table. "You know how Tinkerbell sits in front of the fireplace and talks into the grate? She's actually talking to fairies. And you know her favorite mouse toy? It's magical, which is why she places it in front of the fireplace. She's offering it to the fairies as a gift."
A hint of a smile escaped my control.
"I know. It sounds insane, doesn't it?" Dawn grinned too. "I meant to ask what the deal with Tinkerbell's tail is but I forgot."
We both looked at the cat. At that moment, she started chasing and batting at her tail in a way that made her look possessed.
I shrugged. "Maybe there's a fairy riding it and she's trying to knock it off."
Dawn looked at Tinkerbell with new consideration. "You know, that's a really good theory."
Last Tango in Buenos Aires
It's my last week in Buenos Aires. I just had my last tango lesson, and I'm making the final rounds saying au revoir to my friends.
I've had people ask me if I'm sad to leave. Oddly, I'm not. I'm excited. Don't get me wrong—words can't describe what the months I've spent here have meant to me. But it's time to move on to the next adventure. I'm looking forward to the future. There's more travel involved, and just a little bit of intrigue. You'll have to stay tuned for the details.
Sneaky of me, isn't it? But it's not like you're surprised.
But first, I'm returning to San Francisco. The main reason: I'm speaking at the San Francisco Writers Conference. To say I'm looking forward to the gig would be an understatement. I attended last year's conference as a speaker and it rocked.
The conference goers are a mix of fiction writers of various genres as well as nonfiction. The speakers are diverse and interesting, and it draws a number of big name editors and agents, who are totally accessible the entire weekend. For example, last year, I met Donald Maass, who, contrary to what I'd believed, isn't seven feet tall with lightning bolts shooting from his eyes.
My favorite part of the conference: the cocktail parties. Okay—the cocktail parties are my favorite part of any conference. I can't help it. I love to schmooze, especially martini in hand. Yes, recess was my favorite subject in school too.
The conference itself is sold out this year, but there's a pre-conference day of workshops if you're in the area and interested. If you're there, find me and say "Yo." I'll be the jet-lagged one who keeps slipping into Spanish.