A Meerkat's Bolthole

Sunday, and it's still too warm, and not only do my feet hurt, but my knees as well.

So. Yesterday I met with small press folk about possible copy-writing gigs, collected cards and brochures, met with more Previous Career folk, ended up mentoring some BEA newbies same as I did Friday (apparently, I look like I Have A Clue and Will Share), signed at Posman Books and reassured a reader that she doesn't have to kill me for something that happens in BURNING BRIDGES, signed more copies at random chain stores (B&N at 54th is not showing me the love, curse them), and hit a local street fair. And then off to the harlequin cocktail party, where the noise level was loud, but the spec-fic contingent (including some Necon regulars) took over the VIP balcony and had a good ole' time. Except I think there was one glass of sparkling too many, because this morning I had to stop and think about what happened after I got my wrap and walked out of the club. ('did I take a cab? Subway? please don't let me have walked... no, I remember the subway, okay....' I actually remember pretty much everything; there was just a moment of panic upon waking, before the brain cells caught up with me)

Also got some news from madame editrix, of which more later (tease? moi?)

Today -- brunch, and then home. Home is such a lovely word. I don't want to have to smile at anyone for a week.


next post: books of note and recommendation. And maybe a photo or two.

Wish me luck and a total lack of foot-in-mouth when speaking to readers and/or booksellers and/or salespeople (my editor loves me and forgives me my bluntness).

(Is very strange -- four novels [9 if you count the YA and media tie-ins] and for the first time I'm having
these feelings of "there must be some mistake, surely they meant some other fantasy writer named
Laura Anne Gilman...")

I may or may not have much connectivity. Catch you when it's all over...