New York: Day 5

Yesterday I returned to BEA, signed more books, collected more books and left them at the Rodale booth to be picked up later. I hadn't slept well the night before, being stuck in loops of alternately daydreaming about being rich and famous and on bestseller lists, having my book do so badly that no one will buy my second, having similar repetitive daydreams about other projects, obsessing over the obnoxious gender politics of Angel's "A Hole in the World" and wondering how the series would end, and so forth. (Spoil me for it and DIE; however, "Shells," which I watched last night, I liked much better.) Another daydream involved random people rushing up to me and telling me how much they loved my book.

While signing at Rodale, someone rushed up to me and told me that she'd read my book the night before and loved it. "Hilarious! Brilliant!" she said. "Could you say that a little louder?" I suggested.

Then I met coffee_and_ink and we wandered around the Village, stopping at the Strand (because I did not have enough books), at an anime memorabilia store (where I bought chibi Al's head on the packing box and Mely bought a chibi plushie Al keychain), at a restaurant and two cafes (blueberry pancakes with blueberry sauce; a whipped cream eclair; spinach salad with carrot dressing, which I was dubious about but which turned out to be good), and finally at a Barnes and Noble for free browsing.

(I ran low on cash and noticed that my ATM card hit its expiration date, and the stupid bank forgot to send me a new one. I will see if I can find someone I know at BEA today and hit them up for cash in exchange for a check.)

At BEA, I discovered that R. A. Salvatore uses the word "Chilichunk" as the name of either a person or place. We admired the design of the Firebird books, which tempt me to buy books I got rid of in their first editions because I didn't like them, and jeered the poor design of CMX manga, which has put me off buying series I want to read because they're so unpleasant to hold. I think I traumatized Mely by holding up Lurlene McDaniel's teen death series, Too Young to Die; Please Don't Die; Why Did She Have to Die; Don't Die, My Love; A Time to Die; and Baby Alicia is Dying.

Then, in the manga section, we were both traumatized by some series where all the characters had unnaturally long necks. I was delighted by the plots of the notoriously trashy band soap opera Sensual Phrase, about rival band named Jesus and Lucifer. In volume six, I learned, Jesus' lead singer's girlfriend is kidnapped by the members of Lucifer, who take naked photos of her for blackmail and force her to write them song lyrics. When I opened it at random, someone was saying, "Your boobies are only for me." I opened it again. The lead couple was engaging in very awkward foodplay with a peeled grape.

I came up with a manga manifesto, or actually an un-manifesto because Mely says she will not sign any manifesto. I will regale you all with it later, but one of the inspiring principles is the theory that almost any movie can be improved by the presence of Chow Yun-Fat with a gun.

New York: Day 5

Yesterday I returned to BEA, signed more books, collected more books and left them at the Rodale booth to be picked up later. I hadn't slept well the night before, being stuck in loops of alternately daydreaming about being rich and famous and on bestseller lists, having my book do so badly that no one will buy my second, having similar repetitive daydreams about other projects, obsessing over the obnoxious gender politics of Angel's "A Hole in the World" and wondering how the series would end, and so forth. (Spoil me for it and DIE; however, "Shells," which I watched last night, I liked much better.) Another daydream involved random people rushing up to me and telling me how much they loved my book.

While signing at Rodale, someone rushed up to me and told me that she'd read my book the night before and loved it. "Hilarious! Brilliant!" she said. "Could you say that a little louder?" I suggested.

Then I met coffee_and_ink and we wandered around the Village, stopping at the Strand (because I did not have enough books), at an anime memorabilia store (where I bought chibi Al's head on the packing box and Mely bought a chibi plushie Al keychain), at a restaurant and two cafes (blueberry pancakes with blueberry sauce; a whipped cream eclair; spinach salad with carrot dressing, which I was dubious about but which turned out to be good), and finally at a Barnes and Noble for free browsing.

(I ran low on cash and noticed that my ATM card hit its expiration date, and the stupid bank forgot to send me a new one. I will see if I can find someone I know at BEA today and hit them up for cash in exchange for a check.)

At BEA, I discovered that R. A. Salvatore uses the word "Chilichunk" as the name of either a person or place. We admired the design of the Firebird books, which tempt me to buy books I got rid of in their first editions because I didn't like them, and jeered the poor design of CMX manga, which has put me off buying series I want to read because they're so unpleasant to hold. I think I traumatized Mely by holding up Lurlene McDaniel's teen death series, Too Young to Die; Please Don't Die; Why Did She Have to Die; Don't Die, My Love; A Time to Die; and Baby Alicia is Dying.

Then, in the manga section, we were both traumatized by some series where all the characters had unnaturally long necks. I was delighted by the plots of the notoriously trashy band soap opera Sensual Phrase, about rival band named Jesus and Lucifer. In volume six, I learned, Jesus' lead singer's girlfriend is kidnapped by the members of Lucifer, who take naked photos of her for blackmail and force her to write them song lyrics. When I opened it at random, someone was saying, "Your boobies are only for me." I opened it again. The lead couple was engaging in very awkward foodplay with a peeled grape.

I came up with a manga manifesto, or actually an un-manifesto because Mely says she will not sign any manifesto. I will regale you all with it later, but one of the inspiring principles is the theory that almost any movie can be improved by the presence of Chow Yun-Fat with a gun.

Book Swag (partial list; advance copies)

Comment if you know of the author, heard of the book, hate the author, etc.

Audrey Couloumbis, The Misadventures if Maude March. YA Western.

Gail Carson Levine, Fairy Dust and the Quest for the Egg. Illustrated fairy tale by the author of Ella Enchanted.

J. R. Moehringer, The Tender Bar. A bar memoir.

Rick Moody, The Diviners. A novel about a film shoot. If it has lots of production stuff, I will probably like it; if it's a lame satire on eeeeeeevil shallow liposucked LA, I will not.

Starling Lawrence, The Lightning Keeper. Historical novel about "the dawn of the electric age in America."

Stephanie Meyer, Twilight. YA vampire love story, already optioned for film. From the first few pages, a teenage girl moves to a perpetually overcast small town and immediately notices five preternaturally beautiful pale teens, three boys and two girls. I immediately knew which one would be her boyfriend because one has blonde hair, one has dark hair, and one has bronze hair. People with metallic or gemlike colors of eyes or hair are always the romantic lead, unless it's late Laurell K. Hamilton, in which case they're just one of the entire cast of characters.

Jim Lynch, The Highest Tide. A first novel involving the ocean.

Sharon Creech, Replay. YA novel by Newbery winning author whom, oddly, I've never read.

Kitty Fitzgerald, Pigtopia. Hugely hyped novel about a deformed guy with pet pigs who befriends a teenage girl and gives her a piglet; I bet tragedy ensues due to society's inability to see beyond his looks and to understand their special and innocent friendship. (I am a bad, cynical person.)

Book Swag (partial list; advance copies)

Comment if you know of the author, heard of the book, hate the author, etc.

Audrey Couloumbis, The Misadventures if Maude March. YA Western.

Gail Carson Levine, Fairy Dust and the Quest for the Egg. Illustrated fairy tale by the author of Ella Enchanted.

J. R. Moehringer, The Tender Bar. A bar memoir.

Rick Moody, The Diviners. A novel about a film shoot. If it has lots of production stuff, I will probably like it; if it's a lame satire on eeeeeeevil shallow liposucked LA, I will not.

Starling Lawrence, The Lightning Keeper. Historical novel about "the dawn of the electric age in America."

Stephanie Meyer, Twilight. YA vampire love story, already optioned for film. From the first few pages, a teenage girl moves to a perpetually overcast small town and immediately notices five preternaturally beautiful pale teens, three boys and two girls. I immediately knew which one would be her boyfriend because one has blonde hair, one has dark hair, and one has bronze hair. People with metallic or gemlike colors of eyes or hair are always the romantic lead, unless it's late Laurell K. Hamilton, in which case they're just one of the entire cast of characters.

Jim Lynch, The Highest Tide. A first novel involving the ocean.

Sharon Creech, Replay. YA novel by Newbery winning author whom, oddly, I've never read.

Kitty Fitzgerald, Pigtopia. Hugely hyped novel about a deformed guy with pet pigs who befriends a teenage girl and gives her a piglet; I bet tragedy ensues due to society's inability to see beyond his looks and to understand their special and innocent friendship. (I am a bad, cynical person.)