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Month: April 2007

Even Livelier Blogging From RT 2007

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Okay, I have to say, and I mean this not in the way rock stars say it on stage at a concert or something like that, but Texas fans are the best fans. You guys were wonderful and made me feel so special and loved. This was probably my favorite book signing ever.

Now, allow me to be a completely freaky fan for a second. So far, on this wonderful, strange journey that is RT, I’ve collected tons of amazing autographs from authors who just should not ever talk to me because I’m way, way not worthy. I’ve picked up signed books from Rachel Caine, Vicki Petterson (who wrote that she’ll be in touch! Squee!), Keri Arthur (who gave me candy that makes me want to move to Australia), PC Cast, Gerry Bartlett, Lori G. Armstrong, Virginia OMG I CAN’T BELIEVE I MET HER Henley, Raven Hart, Mary Janice Davidson, Jim Butcher and OMG I CAN’T BELIEVE I MET HER AND ACTED LIKE A TOTAL GOOB Charlaine Harris.

I’ll have pictures from the conference to post on the website after I return home that proves at least some of these wild claims.

I have to say, I tried to be cool. I tried. But I’ve been meeting and talking with so many people that are just amazing in my genre and in others, and I feel like Cinderella. You know, if Cinderella was chubby and constantly begging for candy from strangers.

The Live Blogging Doth Continue From RT 2007

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Having seen the awesome power of drunken writers and fans in large groups, I have to say this: People who go to this conference should be costumers for the movies. I’ve seen so many amazing costumes here, things I wouldn’t have even thought of for the themes. Granted, my imagination isn’t the broadest when it comes to things like “What would I wear to a medieval faery ball?” but just when I think I’m way, way too dressed up and should go back to the room and change, someone proves me very, very wrong. The Faery Ball costumes were amazing, the food was amazing, the program was a little hard to hear/see/experience with the over the excited voices, tinkling bells, and the veritable sea of wings, but it was an enjoyable evening over all.

This morning I have the daunting task of speaking on a panel with some of the best Urban Fantasy writers in the genre, and I am, naturally, very afraid that when it comes to my turn at the mic, I’ll say something that equates to “I like toast.” Because it has happened before, and I’ve found that personal history is likely to repeat. Over and over again.

It Must Feel Colder In Hell Today…

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…because I cleaned my office. It’s a miracle.

I tend to find that while I’m writing a book, my office is a nightmare of filth. I just finished writing book four and suddenly I was no longer blind to the seriously unsanitary conditions and precariously stacked empty diet coke cans teetering unsafely in the stagnant breeze.

Because I do not want to get Tetnus and also because I had nothing better to do, I cleaned up my office. It’s a banner day that comes about once a year, I think, so I’m going to celebrate with this post, which I will call:

Jenny’s Office: By The Numbers
(Distances are approximate. Void where prohibited.)

400 books of various genres and subjects
200 feet to Jenny’s doctor’s office from her office.
50 Disney trading pins
16 ugly unicorn statues, suncatchers, pictures and general bric-a-brac
14 decks of tarot cards
11 folios of sheet music
8 Bertrice Small novels
7 Earth, Wind and Fire albums
5 Musical instruments (trombone, acoustic guitar, bass guitar, Yamaha keyboard, bodhran)
4 quartz crystals
3 Little Apple Dolls
2 pictures of Herman Melville
1 crystal ball

Other assorted clutter includes various wigs and hats, a framed steak knife and a cross stitched sampler of my favorite phrase “Nevermind, I’ll do it myself” translated into Scots Gaelic.

How does this enviroment, when free from dirty dishes, empty cheetos bags and discarded black jelly beans, help me focus my scattered creative energy and funnel my ideas into one, cohesive fictional vision?

I have no idea.

In fact, I’m sure that if I was mauled by bears at a camp out and dragged off into the night, the family member assigned to sorting through my things and putting my affairs to order will probably give up half way through the job, shaking their head and saying, “It’s a good thing she died, because she was clearly insane.”

There was a point to this. Probably some Virgina Wolf-esque, room-of-one’s-own type thing.

My office is clean! Wheee!