Right now, Gentle Reader, my life is full of writing business (as opposed to writing itself). Thank goodness I got so much done at the Super Secret Retreat of Doom! I’m staring down the barrel of a whole lot of travel: Tuscon Festival back-to-back with a week long book tour, then 5 days home before I fly off to New Zealand for a convention then sneak off for two weeks of off grid vacation, fly back, three weeks home in which to turn around M&M copy edits, and then off to New Jersey.
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| May latest home gym meets desk modifications |
So this week is all about catching up from being away, combined with prepping to go away again. Sadly, this is not just a matter of laundry (and more laundry, and dry cleaning, and packing) because events are not simply the author beast showing up with stilettos and lippy in place. Oh no no. This may come as a surprise to you, but there is a great deal of “and yes how will I get from the airport to the hotel? No you can’t just leave me there…” emailing and phone calls.
I’ve been stranded in airports with no confirmation flight numbers, been given the wrong hotel addresses, been booked on so much programming I don’t have time to eat, been given such a tight turn around between flight and event that I don’t have time to shower let alone dress, missed a connection with no phone number to let the coordinator know I’m gonna be late, and so forth. Every time I think I have experienced all the fails, another one surprises me, and another codicil is added to the rider.
Yes, I have a rider not unlike that of a major band now. Not because I want to be a green M&M prema-donna but because I find myself needing to remind coordinators all too often that I actually am a real human creature with… oh I don’t know, bodily functions, and not a preforming monkey-automaton. Now, before you prattle on about the privilege of being asked to events, I have a whole blog about that. Alexia and I share many similarities and neither of us tolerate inefficiency. The fact that this whole situation seems to be getting worse, not better, is why you will see me gradually cutting back more and more on events that I don’t already love to attend, like World Con.
What does this all mean? I’m not able to do much writing right for the next 3 months. Ah ah ah, before you winch, I have a blog about that too… (Psst, here’s this, also: George RR Martin is not your bitch. And for the record Gail Carriger is nobody’s bitch, not even Lilliput’s. Nuh uh.)
I love you Gentle Reader, very much. I just can’t visit everywhere all the time. Sometimes writing the next book comes first, which is as it should be. And sometimes notes, scanning, processing, and coordinating comes first, which is as it must me. Speaking of which I’m off to get my laundry…
Pippity pip.
{Gail’s monthly read along for March is Valor’s Choice by Tanya Huff.}
GAIL’S DAILY DOSE
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What shoes would you wear to your first day of finishing school?
Red and black wingtip spectators. I’d eschew my normal heels for flats, so I could run and climb. However, I might opt for stilettos if I thought I might have to kill someone with my shoes. What is your favorite non-writing thing about being an author?Email for readers and socialization with other authors.
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