Nifty Hotel Pictures
I couldn’t find a place for these in my posts on the conference, so here they are: a few “artsy” snapshots of the Wardman Marriott.
Tomorrow is Snippet Saturday–theme is “openings.” I’ve posted the opening section of Moonlight Mistress.
I loved the hotel gardens, which were filled with beds upon beds of bright red salvia and richly golden marigolds.
Friday morning, I got up way too early because I heard one of my roommates saying into the phone, very calmly, that a hose in the toilet tank was shooting water all over the mirror. At least it was clean water…I decided that, if I got cholera, at least I would provide a research opportunity for hundreds of historical romance authors.
Friday at the conference for me was a long list of appointments and scheduled events. I semi-accidentally attended part of the Harlequin spotlight because I had to show someone where the room was, and then got to see my Moonlihgt Mistress cover flash by on the slideshow, which was exciting, a half-second of fame! I attended a group luncheon with my editor and fellow Spice authors Amanda McIntyre, Charlotte Featherstone, and Kristi Astor, where I had a delicious Floating Island for dessert, my first and certainly not my last. Lunch was followed by a reception for Harlequin single-title authors (where I finally managed to run into my last year’s roommate, Robin Owens, and fellow Spice author Kayla Perrin). And I got to tell Anne Stuart what I love about her spy books: “It must be love because I can’t quite bring myself to kill you.” I also met various Harlequin staff, some of whom I’d met before and some whom I hadn’t, and was impressed anew by how nice they all are. The reception was followed by an unsuccessful attempt to find and meet Lauren Dane at a signing, but I was too late, and she’d already left. However, I had a chance to chat with Susan Krinard, with whom I was on a Worldcon panel long ago, and Olivia Gates, whom I’d briefly met at last year’s Harlequin party.
Colleen Gleason and I had hoped to meet up, but instead we were, repeatedly, ships passing in the night. At least now I know what she looks like in person. Maybe next year!
I had to retreat to my room again after all that face-time and change for the Harlequin party. I ate dinner by myself, not talking to anyone but the waitress, and that helped me recoup my energy for the party.
As last year, the Harlequin Party was one my highlights of the conference. This year, it was held at the Ritz Carlton; I shared a cab there with three other party-goers, one of them Lydia Parks, whom I’d met earlier in the conference. Once there, I met, by chance, Freda Kay, who’d just sold a couple of Spice Briefs. I took off my shoes and danced (badly but enthusiastically), ate too many desserts, had loud conversations, took pictures, and in general found that I had more energy than I thought I did earlier in the evening.
The best part of the party, for me, is seeing lots and lots and lots of women, all ages, dancing and laughing and dancing some more. My three roommates (Cambria Dillon, Emily Ryan-Davis, and Tessa D’Amario) made sure to get a photo of all of us together, and I nabbed some photos of fellow Spice authors and Romance Divas as well. I ran into Robin Owens again, and dragged her over to Tessa D’Amario, who wanted to meet her in person. And I finally ran into Jeri Smith-Ready, another D.C.-area writer I’d met at a CapClave.
I left the party around 11:30 pm; two of my three roommates then arrived back, equally tired, and we talked and talked and talked until I started to lose the middles of sentences. I crashed hard and the only thing that saved me Saturday morning was a very large buffet breakfast in the hotel, calories in place of sleep.
Saturday, I stumbled around in a fog, though I did manage to see Alisa Sheckley, whom I knew from the science fiction world, and later was introduced to Tracy Wolff because Charlotte Featherstone snagged me before I stumbled past them. We had a lovely discussion of erotica and writing and publishing same. I had lunch with a group of Romance Divas in between packing, checking my phone messages, and finally leaving the hotel. The sun felt glorious.
I was too tired to regret the end of the conference too much. I got to Union Station a little early, checked email, in a very perfunctory fashion, with free wireless, and indulged in a twenty-minute chair massage, during which I nearly fell asleep. As soon as I was on the train and had handed over my ticket, I fell asleep.
There’s a lot missing from this report, but for me the most important part is getting to meet other writers in person. We spend so much time alone with our computers or notebooks, it’s great to know that, in a way, we’re part of a community as well.
I was most amused to find the hotel had changed one of the mens’ bathrooms into a womens’ bathroom, and as part of the repurposing, they draped and decorated the urinals with flowers and boxes of tissues, so our maidenly eyes would not be offended.
Thursday at the conference seemed to last for a really long time and involve a lot of wandering around the hotel trying to find things and people. I woke, too early, and realized I’d solved a problem with the current novel; then I fell back asleep. I slept late, very unusual for me, and just barely had a chance to get a latte and a pastry before I was due to help set up for the Keynote Luncheon. I called this being a “books-on-chairs flunky” because I, you guessed it, put books on chairs. A lot of books on a lot of chairs. We ran out of books before we ran out of chairs, and had to move some books from the back tables to the front tables.
After, I decided to stay for the luncheon itself along with roommate Emily Ryan-Davis and some other Divas, and ended up having a nice conversation with historical author Lauren Willig, whom I met for the first time. She writes in the early Napoleonic Wars period, so I’ll have to seek out her books. I ran into Lucienne Diver and we had a brief sitdown with coffee to catch up on non-publishing things, then I found…a bunch of folks, in sequence, among them Kate Pearce and Crystal Jordan, and I was able to meet Louise Edwards for the first time.
I went to at least some of the book signings; in line, I got to meet blogger Azteclady, who is fun, and as in San Francisco last year, author Elizabeth K. Mahon and I stalked each other. I was collecting books for the Romance Divas “Not Going to Conference Conference” giveaway. I also got, for my own pleasure, a signed copy of Anna Campbell’s Untouched.
My sense of time is rather confused, but at various times I ran into the D.C.-area authors whom I knew already from the local CapClave sf/f convention–Mindy Klasky and Maria Snyder. Mindy gave me a ribbon for her new series, and I put it on my badge holder, but it fell off at some point during the day.
Thursday afternoon, I had a scheduled meeting with my editor, Lara Hyde. We’d never met in person, but I had a description of her. I met the wrong person (who fit the description) first–we were both looking for someone we didn’t know! Then Lara and I found each other, and ventured out of the hotel for ice cream and a brief chat. I then left Lara and went down the road for a party held by my RWA chapter, Passionate Ink. By this time, it was pretty hot outside, and I’d made the mistake of wearing a red silk jacket over my shirt. I caught a cab for what normally would have been an easy ten to fifteen minute walk. I was a little late for the party and thus didn’t get a chance to talk to very many people, but did get to chat with Meagan Hatfield before the speeches began. I was sitting in a section of the pub that didn’t have good air circulation, so I became a little dazed for a while.
After getting back from the PI party, I was hot and tired. I retreated to my room for a bit. There I met up with one of my roommates, Emily Ryan-Davis, and convinced her to accompany me to E-Harlequin’s Pajama Party, which featured lots and lots of chocolate on the tables. We ended up having an excellent time there, having a lovely chat with Francis Ray (whom I met last year) and her daughter, and hitting it off with Nocturne Bites author Lydia Parks. The conversation was so good, I ended up eating Kit Kat bars while drinking a whiskey sour, which ought to have been really, really nasty…but I suffered no ill effects.
The next morning, the toilet exploded! Tune in tomorrow!
I began my trip to D.C. for RWA Nationals on Wednesday morning at 30th Street Station in Philadelphia. I spent the time before my track was announced in snapping pictures of the station’s architecture; I’m there often, but rarely with a camera in my hand; the angel statue is especially photogenic. Remember it at the beginning of the film Witness? I took the Amtrak train, which is a comfortable way to travel, especially for such a short trip. My only difficulty was getting my larger-than-usual suitcase into the overhead luggage rack. Once I’d settled into my seat, I dozed on and off all the way to D.C.
The beautiful Union Station was my next stop. I didn’t stay there long; I immediately hopped on the Metro and made my way to the conference hotel, which was down the road from the National Zoo. I wish I’d had time to skip out and visit the zoo; it’s been several years since my last visit.
At the hotel, there were some difficulties in getting rooms due to a massive checkout from the previous convention, so I registered for the conference, then went to eat lunch in the hotel restaurant, dragging my luggage behind me. I shared a table with a stranger, Sharon, and just like last year when I shared a dinner table with strangers, we had a great conversation about romance writing and publishing, and by the end of lunch weren’t strangers any longer. I returned to the front desk and discovered one of my roommates had managed to get us a room, so I was able to drop off my luggage and have an early dinner with Jennifer Stevenson, at an excellent Thai restaurant across the street; I had an excellent fried tofu in a creamy red curry sauce. I’m really glad we did that, since we had trouble meeting up for long during the rest of the conference, due to conflicting schedules and poor cell phone reception in various parts of the hotel.
Wednesday night was the Literacy Signing, my first as a participant. I’d signed up mainly so people could find me, and this worked wonderfully–also, a few strangers came to buy the book or tell me they’d liked it, which was lovely. And I met Wendy the Super Librarian! I sat between Marcia James and Carolyn Jewel, and within sight of Beverly Jenkins and C.S. Harris; I slipped over before the signing to tell her how much I was enjoying her period mysteries. The only scary moment was when the doors first opened and a tidal wave of people swept into the room. I got rid of my bowl of Lindt truffles in a bit over an hour, but that was nothing compared to Marcia James, who handed out seemingly a hundred tiny pairs of handcuffs attached to her business card.
After the signing, I roamed the room meeting a few more authors who were still at their tables, including my friend Christine Merrill, and Victoria Dahl whom I knew from Twitter. I then headed across the street to Medaterra to meet members of the Romance Divas forum. This was a bit overwhelming, as there were a lot of people and the people constantly circulated. By this point, I was far too overstimulated to do much but try to put faces to names, and soon had to reel off to my room and sleep.
I have a confession to make.
I don’t really like reading e-books.
I spend all day in front of a computer at my day job. On the weekends, I spend at least half of each day in front of my laptop, writing fiction. Despite anti-glare and backlighting, when I read a book I don’t want to have to pull out another device. I don’t want to carry another device around. I don’t want to press buttons and scroll and hold a plastic thing in my hands. I want a book made out of paper.
Also, I have arthritis in my hands, so using an e-reader is physically painful after a while. Maybe when they get lighter….
(If anyone’s wondering, yes, I am prepared for the demise of paper books; I have a lovely stash for when the paper book famine comes.)
Some practical concerns of mine include cost of the reader; losing files from the reader; losing the reader itself, full of purchased files; and especially, since I am a worrier, worrying about losing the reader that cost so much, or the files.
It’s nothing against the content of e-books. When there’s an e-book I want to read, the first thing I do is buy it, then see if I can print it out, usually on scrap paper, and read it that way. I recycle the print copy when I’m done.
If I can’t print the book out, I put the book into the e-book folder on my laptop. There are a lot of books in there right now. I mean to read them. I want to read them. But it takes a while. Usually I get to my e-books when I’m on, for instance, a long trip (some Amtrak cars have plugs for laptops, and so does the Bolt Bus). But even then, I might read a paper book instead.
And, if I really enjoy the book, I wait for it to come out in print. Sometimes that happens. Sometimes it doesn’t.
My choices end up being self-selecting. I read a lot of books, and I read them quickly, but because I prefer the old-fashioned format, I miss a lot of what’s good in the e-book world. Then again, I miss a lot of print books as well. I know that, eventually, I will have to adapt or be left behind. But for the moment, I’m happy as I am.
I haven’t run out of things to read yet.
Q: How many surrealists does it take to change a lightbulb?
A: Fish.
Twelve Months After
Hullo! here’s my platoon, the lot I had last year.
‘The war’ll be over soon.’
‘What ‘opes?’
‘No bloody fear!’
Then, ‘Number Seven, ‘shun! All present and correct.’
They’re standing in the sun, impassive and erect.
Young Gibson with his grin; and Morgan, tired and white;
Jordan, who’s out to win a D.C.M. some night;
And Hughes that’s keen on wiring; and Davies (’79),
Who always must be firing at the Boche front line.
. . . .
‘Old soldiers never die; they simply fide a-why!’
That’s what they used to sing along the roads last spring;
That’s what they used to say before the push began;
That’s where they are to-day, knocked over to a man.
–Siegfried Sassoon, Counter-Attack and Other Poems, 1918
I have a rule for myself. After I’ve attended my writers’ workshop and had a manuscript critiqued, I don’t work on that manuscript for at least a day or so, more sometimes. It might be tempting to go home and immediately page through my notes and the written comments and get started, or to start writing the next section of the novel, or redoing scenes, but I’ve discovered that just doesn’t work for me. I need time to digest.
I do a lot of my thinking beneath the surface. I often make non-writing decisions that way, as well; I look up some information, read it, then go and do something else. Later, the answer will float to the surface of my mind. Writing often works that way for me, too.
This method is in conflict, a little, with my “write a crappy first draft” method of finishing a complete story before I can rewrite, but I’ve made it work, since no one’s method is always the same. It may be an uneasy co-existence, but for me it’s been a fruitful one.
After I’ve left the meeting, I stop thinking about what people said. I don’t open my notebook and look at what I’ve written there, from what they said. I don’t examine the marked-up pages I’ve received back. I don’t open the manuscript’s electronic file. I just…do something else.
Oh, and angst. I can’t forget the angst. This novel is terrible. I can never fix this. If I try to do anything like X suggested, I will fail; maybe she can do it, but I can’t. Was all my effort wasted? Will I freeze up and be unable to write anything else, ever?
It helps to know that this happens every single time. And every single time, after a few days, I figure out what to do. And it works. And my profound thanks to my workshop grow even more heartfelt.
Related posts: Resting, Or Not-Writing.
How To Write A Novel (In 72 Easy Steps!).
Currently, I’m working on my third novel for Harlequin Spice, tentatively titled The Duke and The Pirate Queen. I’m about a third of the way through the first draft. I gave the first few chapters to my longtime writers’ workshop, to get some early feedback. It’s a little different asking for a critique on a partial manuscript, especially when the novel has already been sold. This time, I did not supply my readers with the novel’s synopsis; they were reading it as a reader would, with no idea how the book would end.
It was good. They gave me excellent critiques, all four of the attendees. But after, I felt so emotionally and intellectually wrung out I had to stare out the train window most of the way home, not reading the book I’d brought, barely able to concentrate.
My workshop specializes in science fiction and fantasy. When the group formed, that’s what I intended to write. Over the years the members have grown used to reading erotica as well, and since my books for Spice all have fantastic elements (alternate world, werewolves), they’re able to nudge my thoughts in the direction they need to go.
We use the Milford model of critiquing for the most part; critiques are given verbally, and the author of the work then addresses specific questions and asks questions of her own. In reality, there’s some cross-talk, some commenting from the author during the critique, and stops for eating and chatting. It all makes for a laidback atmosphere, which helps when your work, the thing you’ve been spending all your time writing, is being dissected.
We joke about it, offering chocolate or wine to the “victim.” Because it’s a difficult thing, emotionally, to hear that there are issues with your work that are keeping it from being better, and to realize how much work might be involved in rectifying those issues. You have to weigh each comment and suggestion, deciding which to address, and in what order, and how. You wonder how those changes might affect the entire novel and how it’s received by your editor and by your readers. You ponder elements of the novel you’d thought were perfect, but in fact might be flaws. You realize there are obvious questions about your characters or plot that you never asked. Questions that you never even thought to ask.
That’s what a workshop is for.
Tonight, I’m at the 2009 “Readers for Life” Literacy Autographing at RWA’s National Conference.
“More than 500 romance authors participate in this two-hour autographing event, and each year we raise thousands of dollars, which are donated to ProLiteracy Worldwide. Since 1991, RWA has donated more than $600,000 to literacy charities.
The 2009 “Readers for Life” Literacy Autographing takes place on Wednesday, July 15, from 5:30-7:30 p.m. at the Marriott Wardman Park Hotel, Exhibit Hall. This event is open to the public; there is no admittance charge. Sales of books purchased at the event go to literacy charities, and we ask that you purchase books at the autographing rather than bring copies you already own.”
