An encapsulation in Dakota minor…
OMG.
I. Am. Chicken. Fried. And I’m going to tell you why. Okay, so first up, the hotel. Folks, I don’t know if you know how much walking is involved in the whole RT experience, but it can get to be a lot when you’re going from panel to panel, party to party, and yes, bar to bar in heels.
Now add on the fact that while the main convention center is in the center of the luxurious Wyndham–you’re room? Yeah, that’s in east Tampa.
I ain’t lyin’.
The hotel–All of the rooms were scattered in parts far and far–as in FAR away from the hotel. RT had arranged golf carts to bring us back and forth from our rooms in the rain forest, and I don’t want to be a whiner, but had it not been for Teri and a car, I’d still be wandering in the jungle, looking for the lobby. Naturally, because I’m just lucky like dat, my room was in the 1st set of rooms–building 1–AKA the Ukraine. My ankles were so swollen by most days end, I considered sleeping in the lobby and just being spritzed with water and slugging back a Tic-Tac before starting all over at the beginning of the next day. The rooms being so far from everything was nuts. I vote nevah, evah again. I like a good walk, but not when the sun is a reach out and touch it’s buttery hotness experience and the path from your room to the hotel can be downright ankle busting in heels.
That said, I’m going to let go of my grudge and move forward with the prayer that next year we get a big ole skyscraper of a hotel in Columbus
Hanging out with new people who’re so close to family you’d potentially loan them cash–Stacia Kane, Mario Acevedo, Kaz from England, Renee, Kaz’s friend but whose last name escapes me, Michelle Rowen. Lurve you all. Especially Mario my palmetto bug of love. Also, Yvonne and Paul, MJ’s sister and BIL. These people are so fabulous, and both funny and totally up for a good joke. Lubs you both.
The panels– A total riot, and in one (can’t remember which because I’m old and the sun dried up the sole brain cell I had left) I got to hold the most precious, fabulous long-haired Chihuahua evah. Her name is Kiwi and her mom, Debbie, works for Barnes and Noble. I got some lurvin’ in at just the right time–when I was missing my man and my puppies the most. Anyway, we laughed, we did a nice round of saying the word “fucktard” out loud as a group, we cracked wise, and in general created chaos.
The showdown–thass right. Me and Barry Eisler (hope I spelled that right). I’d heard he had fabulous hair. I’d heard it might even rival mine. I wasn’t havin’ that. So when he introduced himself in the bar, I was pretty juiced for a fight. I looked him right in his eyes and said, “So, I hear you have fabulous hair, but I suppose now that you see mine, you know that just ain’t so…” LOLLOL. he was a total peach, and completely down with a good razz.
The bookseller’s party–dudes! You are hardcore, folks. Myself, Michele Bardsley, MaryJanice, Richelle Mead, Jackie Kessler, and Jaye Wells hosted a booksellers party, and it was fantastic. MJ couldn’t join us this RT. She was suffering from exhaustion, and at the last minute had to cancel. But the rest of us, and due in part to her generosity, had the most wonderful time. We ate awesome food, chatted books, some folks drank (I know nothing unless you have a C note), laughed, and had a raffle for some T-shirts and purses. Mucho thanks to all who showed up, hung out and made it an awesome event. Oh,and I met the fabulous Angie Fox. Cute as a bug in a rug, people
The bar–people drank. Some drank A LOT. That is all
Oh, and a big shout out to Nora one of the waitresses there. She was so great to our group of loud and disorderly–even after she was stiffed by another bunch of folks for a bar bill and had to have it taken out of her paycheck.
The slumber party–I was invited to it sorta last minute because Kiwi’s mom Debbie said c’mon over. I had the most insightful, interesting conversations with booksellers, librarians, and folks who work for chains like B&N. It was so good to chat in a setting that was comfy, and gave us all the op to share our differing views on how we can all scratch each other’s backs and move toward world domination
The parties–we didn’t do many…
The hotties–no, not the cover models. I don’t even remember much about them, though I’m sure they were lovely. The three women who have the best bodies ever, and made me weep for my once tight ass and rockin’ abs. Jeanette, Rebecca, and Jeanette’s friend. Forgive me for forgetting her name, but her spankin’ bod made me forget everything but my lost youth.
The bookfair–to top all of this awesomeness off, it got better. When I arrived and saw the sea of books I had in front of me, I almost wept. All I could think was, there just aren’t that many people out of their right minds in here to buy all 80 of my books. What was the bookseller THINKING?? I poked my head between those stacks and fought not to blow chunks. Now, before I get into what happened next, I gotta tell ya–I met Aztec Lady. I’m sure lot’s of you know her–she’s here on my blog often. When I found out we’d be in te same vicinity, I threatened her with acts unbecoming of a lady if she didn’t come see me. Seriously, this woman is ADORABLE, and such a sweetie. She crocheted me a bookmark and brought it to me. It was so great to see the face I always attribute to supportive and warm when she posts here on my blog. You, Miz Thang, ROCK–and I love, love, love that I had the chance to meet ya! Also to Lyn Cash and Ashlyn Chase, too, from EC who’re awesome to talk with while we signed books!
Okay, my angst. Jesus and all 12. No way can I get rid of 80 books. I thought maybe I might hide some under the table so it just looked like I sold something… However, lemme just say this–you people, the folks who brought their books in, the people that came to see me because they’d hung with me in a panel, are so much fabulousness that when all was said and done, and I had time to come down, I went back to my room, called Rob, and sobbed. I did. That so many fans came to see me, especially under the kind of pressure there is when you’re one seat away from a NYT bestseller, was AMAZING. I’m humbled, and honored. And I mean that. No joking. No snarking.
The pictures. I have none. I suck. I was so bloated, swollen, tired, beat down, I mostly forgot to take any. But I’d almost bet my uterus and some girlie organs there’s a bunch of horrifyingly unflattering pics of me on Facebook. LOLLOL
Good to be home,
DC 