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...
Mad Cow Running, and Other Tales of the South
Last night I asked my sister what I should blog about today. She said, "Blog about me. I'm always an interesting blog topic."
And she's modest too.
But enough about her.
And on to me. I'm in Arkansas, making my annual trip to visit to my friend Julie Linker. As of this moment, I have not
- shot anything;
- seen a scorpion;
- gone night fishing;
- eaten catfish and hush puppies;
- or shared moonshine with a redneck.
But give me time—I still have a couple weeks here.
Julie and I have babysat a mad cow though. Yesterday, Gary (Julie's husband) was at a friend's house helping him move some cows into a different pasture. Julie, her daughter, and I decided to join them, not to herd but to sit by the pool and read. We have our priorities straight.
Except we got put on mad cow duty. One of the steers was supremely pissed to be penned away and was doing its best to get out. Gary and his friend went out to buy fence reinforcing materials, instructing us to keep an eye on the cow.
After the men left, I turned to Julie. "So we're supposed to watch to make sure the cow doesn't escape?"
"Yes." She calmly flipped the page of her book.
I listened to the cow furiously kicking the barn door. "And what are we supposed to do if it does?"
"I don't know about you, but I'm going to run."
Fortunately, it didn't escape until after our watch.
Next...
Julie and I are headed to Orlando this week for the RWA National conference, which means we've been plotting our wardrobe over the past few days. Somehow, she decided I'm going to wear a silver sequined dress to the Rita Awards (the romance industry's equivalent to the Oscar Awards). Picture the shortest, most blinding dress you can and you'll have an accurate image of the dress. If you're going, you won't be able to miss me. I'll be the walking disco ball—walking because the dress is too tight to sit in.
In other news...
Those of you who follow me on Twitter know I've been painting. If you aren't following me on TWITTER, shame on you.
Anyway, yeah—watercolors. I'm not sure what possessed me. I haven't painted in a coon's age, since I was knee high to a tick. (I'm in the South and have to say things like that or I'll have my Visa revoked.) I love it. Today I should be writing, but I'm tempted to take my paints to the café instead of my laptop.
Don't worry. I'm not giving up the day job. McLovin and I are headed to work right now. A girl cannot live by paint alone. At least not this girl.