Every night at RWA National was a party.
The first night my friend and I went to the Hard Rock and heckled two bartenders--one, a Billy Idol look-a-like, and the other, a middle-aged Hispanic man who entertained us while we tried to order (poorly) in Spanish.
Another night was the Avon cocktail party at The Boathouse in Central Park.
It was BEAUTIFUL. See?
I sat outside on the patio with a Cosmo in hand, watching a family of turtles bob in the river below. The sun set, slashing red and orange across the sky, making me dizzy in disbelief. (How on earth did a little gal from northern Cali end up here?) I'm beyond blessed to have been invited to such an event. It wasn't long before people gathered around me on the patio--a few agents (Hi Nalini, Christine and Marlene!) and author Elizabeth Jennings. They are just the nicest people on the planet and I'm thrilled I got to experience that night with them. It was magical. (Yes, Elizabeth, I will go to the Italian Women's Festival with you. No, not this year. Maybe next.)
I felt like I'd stepped into a dream world where NYT Bestselling authors were kind and humble and enjoyed gabbing about writing as much as I did. Oh wait...that's EXACTLY how it was.
*That's NYT and USA Today Bestselling author Eloisa James, posing inside a cut-out of her own cover.
*And that's me, casting adoring glances at the lion. I'm a Leo, you know. We lions gotta stick together.
Another night was the Spencerhill Literary Agency cocktail party. It was great meeting the other writers who are represented by my agent. (They're all smart and savvy and sooo nice, fyi)
*Whatcha think of my dress? *grin
No matter how much fun I had when the sun went down each night, I was glad to get back to my room. (I don't do well running on such little sleep.) Here's an invite and my "comfortable" shoes: