It rains, it pours, it comes up roses

So I met my editor and we hit it off famously, which seems the theme for people I met in person this week for the first time having previously only emailed or spoken on the phone. There was a great deal of talk about very exciting things which I probably shouldn't get into in detail, like publicity plans for the memoir. Well, I'll just say that I'm excited. Really excited.

My agent and I had breakfast with his terrifically cool family, the youngest of whom is a huge fan of Tamora Pierce and Robin McKinley, which is not too surprising considering that her mother is Robin McKinley's agent. I happened to be carrying Sherwood Smith's Wren to the Rescue, which I had just started, and pulled it out to see if she'd read it yet. She hadn't, so I recommended it on the basis of the first chapter, which has a rather Pierce-esque flavor (though one could equally well say that some of Pierce's books have a Smith-esque flavor). Perhaps a certain editor whom I couldn't meet up with this time, alas, should send her a care package of appropriate Firebirds samples.

I got home just now, after extreme airport aggravations. (I went to bed earlier than I wished to so I could get up at 4:00 am which is WAY earlier than I would wish to catch a 7:00 am flight. Which was cancelled. I was then booted off the overbooked substitute 9:00 am flight, and only got home now. Don't fly United, they suck and we hates them, preciousss.) And also, just now, I recieved an email suggesting that Secret Project # 1 is suddenly becoming a more urgent priority.

Meanwhile, I have an assignment from my agent to write a proposal for my next book, and from my editor to create a radio piece. And I also have many things overdue from my day job. But I think I've earned some time off this evening, and will now go watch Angel season four, which M hooked me on and which got delayed while I attempted to deal with work-related things.

New York itself was lovely, by the way. Sunny mostly, sometimes cold. The trees were just starting to change color and the buildings were splendidly tall. Look up on any city street, and the sky is an unfinished jigsaw puzzle.

I visited the Cloisters and saw the Unicorn Tapestries with M, which meant we could discuss them in relation to Pamela Dean's "Owlswater" and "This Fair Gift," which is surely a moment I could have with very few others. My greatest regret of the trip, in addition to missing Sharyn and Naomi entirely, was not getting to spend more time with M, who I would clearly be hanging out with all the time if we only lived in the same city.

Next time.

It rains, it pours, it comes up roses

So I met my editor and we hit it off famously, which seems the theme for people I met in person this week for the first time having previously only emailed or spoken on the phone. There was a great deal of talk about very exciting things which I probably shouldn't get into in detail, like publicity plans for the memoir. Well, I'll just say that I'm excited. Really excited.

My agent and I had breakfast with his terrifically cool family, the youngest of whom is a huge fan of Tamora Pierce and Robin McKinley, which is not too surprising considering that her mother is Robin McKinley's agent. I happened to be carrying Sherwood Smith's Wren to the Rescue, which I had just started, and pulled it out to see if she'd read it yet. She hadn't, so I recommended it on the basis of the first chapter, which has a rather Pierce-esque flavor (though one could equally well say that some of Pierce's books have a Smith-esque flavor). Perhaps a certain editor whom I couldn't meet up with this time, alas, should send her a care package of appropriate Firebirds samples.

I got home just now, after extreme airport aggravations. (I went to bed earlier than I wished to so I could get up at 4:00 am which is WAY earlier than I would wish to catch a 7:00 am flight. Which was cancelled. I was then booted off the overbooked substitute 9:00 am flight, and only got home now. Don't fly United, they suck and we hates them, preciousss.) And also, just now, I recieved an email suggesting that Secret Project # 1 is suddenly becoming a more urgent priority.

Meanwhile, I have an assignment from my agent to write a proposal for my next book, and from my editor to create a radio piece. And I also have many things overdue from my day job. But I think I've earned some time off this evening, and will now go watch Angel season four, which M hooked me on and which got delayed while I attempted to deal with work-related things.

New York itself was lovely, by the way. Sunny mostly, sometimes cold. The trees were just starting to change color and the buildings were splendidly tall. Look up on any city street, and the sky is an unfinished jigsaw puzzle.

I visited the Cloisters and saw the Unicorn Tapestries with M, which meant we could discuss them in relation to Pamela Dean's "Owlswater" and "This Fair Gift," which is surely a moment I could have with very few others. My greatest regret of the trip, in addition to missing Sharyn and Naomi entirely, was not getting to spend more time with M, who I would clearly be hanging out with all the time if we only lived in the same city.

Next time.