So the Romance Writers of America annual conference began. Time to get to work!
Actually, let’s just take a moment to pause. ‘Exciting’ is not nearly a strong enough word to sum up the happy fruit of my four years of labor. Let’s all take a moment to jump up and down and scream “YIPEEE!” as loud as possible, okay? Because, trust me, that’s what I’m doing right now.
After we all left, I went up, tucked him into bed, and went to the last party of the night–the Harlequin pyjama party–because Harlequin headquarters are in Canada, and that’s how they spell it up there. I wore my fascinator.
Thursday came and went in a rush. I went to the Harlequin Series Toast–where I drank champagne on a mostly empty stomach–and then, that night was the Harlequin Publisher’s Party.
It was, in a word, crazy. NOT the kind of crazy where nearly nude male models wear fig-leaf briefs and pretend to be classic statues like David. But it was CLOSE.
Okay, no. Disaster averted. Into the Waldorf! Where I promptly discovered I was not on The List. As in, not going to the party. This is the moment where panic set in. “But I write for Harlequin!” I said in a voice that was not even a little whiny. An Official Person was called over, I handed over my business card, and was shunted to the side.
Sheer panic.
But then my knight in shining armor–better known as Charles Griemsman, Desire Editor–walked up with USA Today Bestselling Author Day Leclaire. “What are you doing over here?” Charles asked. “I’m not on the list.” I swear, the hackles visibly went up on Charles’ neck. “You’re not on the list? Oh, we will see about that!”
Luckily, before Charles could go all velociraptor on someone, the Official Person said I could go in. I was given my pair of socks and the green light.
Yes. Socks. With Harlequin embroidered on them. Before I could grasp that, I found myself standing with Day and Charles in front of a Harlequin backdrop with the world’s Grumpiest Old Man Paparrazi. “They tell me 300, and now they say 500. It’s elder abuse, I tell you–Elder Abuse. Now smile!” Trust me–smiling was the only option at that point.
So I go in, carrying my socks.
So, it turned out that you need socks because everyone–and I mean EVERYONE–dances. No exception. They fly in the same DJ every year, and he plays the same set list to open. Editors, publishers, NYT Best-Selling Authors–they all take their shoes off and dance. Every single person.
So I danced. I wandered past the custom-made cupcake and ice cream bars. I drank Shirley Temples at the open bar. I yawned while boogieing. Finally, after 2 1/2 hours, I had to go to sleep.
So I wander down to the street, plaintively asking if anyone wants to share a cab ride back to the conference hotel. Three nice ladies say sure, and ask me what I write. We chitchat back to the hotel, and I get out my money to pay my part. All three women kind of laugh at me. “Honey,” the tall one says, “You’re in a cab with three editors from the Toronto office.”
Oh. I was very thankful as I tried to remember if I had said anything embarrassing on the ride over. No, I think. So good to go there. But thus, the major money-saving trip: Always catch rides with editors. They put cab fare on the company tab.
Friday was also good. I slept in past the first session–Shirley Temples take a lot out of a girl!–but made it to the session I was moderating, “How to Make Yourself Irresistible to Editors.” An editor wound up requesting a partial of Mystic Cowboy after that. And thus, my business trip was complete. Mission Accomplished!
So while I didn’t necessarily take the Publishing World by Storm, I did manage to take it by a Light Rain. Many thanks go out to Andrea, Cat, Charles, Stacy, Day, Blythe Gifford, Rebecca Finley, and everyone else who helped make my trip insanely productive and fun!
I'm really proud of you sister. You be fa-moose!
Thanks, Nanner! I feel like a moose–but that's just all the champagne and Shirley Temples talking!
My husband is adamant that he did NOT stay the whole time. He insists that it was my imaginary husband and child. Hmmm.
I'm glad you had fun. The HQ party is like nothing else. It's my highlight of the year. I should've told you who you were in the van with. 🙂
If it makes you feel better, I drove in the cab back to the hotel with the sr. M&B editor. And of course, my friend threatens me and says I better not throw up on her as we climb in. (My last martini hit me like a freight train.) I was no where near nauseated, but super embarassed!
Andrea
Andrea, I feel better knowing that I wasn't the only one struggling with that whole 'ride with strange editors' thing!
Better get used to it. Parties and comped rides are burdens the famous must bear.
So fun to hear what you were doing when I was not watching. Thrilled it was all great. For those few days, we ALL take the world by storm. Glad you enjoyed it all.
Joshua, you are so right. Staying up past my bedtime was a serious burden! And Blythe, thanks again for your many kindnesses!
Oh how great Sal! I can't wait to hold one of your books!! ya!!!
My Goodness Gracious….Great Balls of Fire. Wonderful.
Thanks, Lucy, and Mom, I really know that feeling now!
Comments are closed.