First: Writers' conferences rock my world. At least this one.
I've already met amazing people - agents, editors, authors and those aspiring to author-dom alike. (My deepest thanks to any shiny, new SF writers friends who are checking out my blog!)
But I'm not here for a conference blow-by-blow, with one exception. My favorite moment thus far was when, with a sweep of his hand, Donald Maass cried, "I am a story god!"
I'm not sure what to be shocked by: his self-proclaimed divinity or my instant conversion to his religion.
My other source of bemusement this weekend derives from the Mark Hopkins amenities menu. This oh-so-lovely hotel evokes an era flush with cash unknown to our current dire economy. In the moments (hours) when I'm too nervous (exhausted) to practice my pitches yet another time, I enjoy pretending I am a business don of a bygone era (the 90s) who can make use of the array of services offered.
Oh......If I were a rich man, Ya ha deedle deedle, bubba bubba deedle deedle dum I'd
1) Order the $62 breakfast
2)The $162.00 Executive Briefcase that bursts with truffles, chocolates, nuts, fruit and not one but two bottles of water
3)The $400 Champagne and Caviar (or if I want to be frugal, just the $105.00 Champagne and Strawberries, please)
4)The $450.00 Wine and Spirits Package with enough alcohol to fill my bathtub (and it's a nice bathtub, I've been luxuriating in bubbles every night. And that's where I'll be after I post this blog)
I apologize to any readers who take the finer things in life as a matter of course. I may be a dreamer, but I retain enough Midwestern/Scandinavian sense to make my father proud.
Not that I'd turn down that Executive Briefcase, should anyone be inclined to send one to my room.