Only not so sweet for some! The present gripe is that some rooms here at the Dolphin smell musty. We checked in on Monday and were able to change ours as my roommate is allergic to mold and had to negotiate with the desk downstairs standing in the hall. We are splendidly re-sited in two adjoining rooms (we were in an alcove suite initially), and happy as clams.
The conference is gradually heaving into action, only it feels for me as if it’s already boiling forward full speed ahead. I well remember the first RWA national conference I went to, five years ago in Reno. I didn’t know a soul. I’d joined online and so had no idea of where my local chapter was, or even if I had one. Five years and knowing many more people has certainly mellowed and deepened my pleasure at being here, but I still remember such nice experiences: encountering Debbie Macomber in the elevator that first day, and she kindly inquiring if I was a newbie, and when I was uncertain about her directions to the registration, she came along with me to make sure I found the right place. I was stunned and impressed by the volume of information available in the workshops, and the experience of meeting new people who were as eager as I was to talk about writing. By Saturday I’d just about hit my saturation limit on brain stimulation, and I remember flying home Sunday not reading, not even really dozing, sitting there staring straight ahead and –I guess! — simply trying to finish the process of absorption.
This year, my sixth, is more complicated yet. Now, as well as all the workshops and signings and fascinating talks given by notable writers at the luncheons and dinner, there’s the delight of locating old friends and people whose names I know from on-line chatter, but whose faces are new to me. Hugging dear friends and total strangers, getting to hear the rest of stories that could only be hinted at in the brevity of an email — I’m loving it.
And it’s not until today that it really starts. I’ve been at the Beau Monde conference most of today, since I’m planning to try an Anglo-Irish Regency romance this fall. I’m up in my room now, sitting here while my hip grumbles and makes it obvious that it remembers that I’d been resting it from a bout of trochanteric bursitis at home even if I’ve inexplicably seemed to forget about that.
Actually got to spend some time with Cyndi D’Alba and Keri Ford — so far haven’t encountered Liz Talley, but am told she’s around. How I wish all of us were! What do you all wish most you could do at the conference this year? Wish I could wave a wand and bring you all here by magic transport.
But I should mention it’s hot. Seriously hot.