I’m sitting outside Starbucks in the Annaheim Marriott’s lobby. It’s almost midnight.
Women dressed up for the Beau Monde ball are wandering by in romantic costumes (think Regency England).
Writers, publishers and editors are passing by from late night discussions in the bar. The place is a hot bed for ideas. Serious discussions punctuated by laughter fill rooms and bubble into the hallways.
Everyone believes their next story…will be their best.
…and I’m happier than a pig in doo doo.
That wasn’t fun. The line ups in the Vancouver airport took us a couple of hours, and I didn’t even check a bag. The flight was good. When we landed at LAX three policemen boarded, put a handsome man in handcuffs and took him off the plane. Story ideas swirled in my mind. I blame Mimi. Things always happen around Mi.Then we had an hour and a half ride to the hotel on LA expressways. Truly an adventure.
The Saga of the Black Ribbon
My black ribbon marking me as a Daphne finalist did not make it in the mail in time. I was hanging on to the hope that I could get one here at the conference. Today, I learned that they didn’t arrive here either. So… I borrowed a black marker and wrote “Daphne Finalist” under my name on my name tag. No one’s read it yet, but when I mention it–and you’d be amazed at how many ways I can weave it into conversations with strangers– it makes their eyes narrow and figit. I take it as a good sign, but it could be the water.
Went to a session for newbies, and a book signing event for literacy. The crowds are large, but warm and fuzzy like a cozy slipper.
And on that note…I think I’ll head for bed.