Last week, I spent some time at the Romance Writers of America conference in downtown Atlanta. I'm not a member of RWA anymore, but it was fun to be there during the open-to-the-public events. For me, the highlight was on Wednesday, when my husband and I went to the airport to pick up my friend Deeanne Gist. Dee and I have talked on the phone regularly for over a year, but we'd never met in person before. She's a great friend and a lot of fun.
My husband dropped us off at the conference, and then I watched some of the behind-the-scenes doings of an author's life as Dee ran off to a booksellers' tea, then to an autograph signing with approximately 500 other authors. While she was doing that, I peeked at the workshop listings and wished I hadn't dropped out of RWA. They covered everything from marketing to author/editor relationships to the nitty-gritty of police procedures to add authenticity to a story.
While Dee stayed for three days' worth of continuing education, writer-style, I went on a motorcycle trip with my husband through parts of Georgia and South Carolina. Beautiful scenery, good company, a little too much sun.
I headed back to RWA on Saturday for the awards ceremony and chocolate fountains. Since I wasn't there on business--I didn't have to impress any editors, didn't feel obligated to network, didn't even care what Nora Roberts would think of me in my five-dollar jeans if I ran into her on the elevator--I had a blast seeing my friends.
We dropped Dee off at the airport on Sunday, and I've been back in my cave for a few days, writing like mad. I'm so close to the end of my work-in-progress that I can taste it. And that's even better than a chocolate fountain.
