My conference continues to be super successful, and as long as I don't get lured out of my room in the next ten minutes, I might actually survive it and get some sleep tonight. This morning, however, was not so successful; since I didn't go to sleep until after one a.m., I knew there was no chance of making it to the 8:30am keynote, and there was certainly no chance of making it to the 7:30am breakfast (which I'm glad I skipped, since scouts (aka Twitter) report that the breakfast was egg whites and nasty wilted spinach). So I got some sleep, dragged myself out of bed, made myself presentable, and grabbed a yogurt and an iced coffee from Starbucks before going to my first workshop of the day.
It was quite interesting, albeit v. depressing (as I should have expected from the title) - it was about writing through depression, and the panelists were some highly successful, critically acclaimed romance writers who have struggled (secretly or not-so-secretly) with depression. I don't think I've been depressed, exactly - the last two months since I left the day job have been pretty awesome, and I'm completely happy with that decision. That said, as any regular reader has probably observed, I've had some moments of total anxiety/panic, which for me often translates into lying on the couch and doing nothing until I remember to leave the house and get coffee. So, the topic was pretty interesting to me; of course, the answers were mostly anecdotal and more of the flavor of 'you're not alone and a lot of writers struggle with this' rather than any tried-and-true way to get off the couch and accomplish something. But it was certainly fascinating to hear others' stories, and to remember that my #firstworldproblems are not, at the end of the day, all that severe or insurmountable.
sssanyway, after that panel I needed a break from people, and I still wanted to write some notes about Rafe and Ava from my conversations yesterday, so I snuck away and had a salad and a coke (note: no wine) at a french bistro a couple of blocks from the hotel. Then I came back, talked to one of my friends (Miranda, whom I befriended in New Orleans last year), had a meeting with an audiobook person (great meeting, no resolution yet on whether I'm going to work with them), and then spent over an hour catching up with my friend Stephanie (we used to share an agent, and I totally adore her and think she's super smart).
At that point, I kind of just wanted a nap, but I rallied and walked fifteen minutes or so over to a rooftop bar near the New York Public Library, where my friend Maya was hosting a small cocktail soiree to celebrate the release of her latest nonfiction book (Dangerous Books for Girls: The Bad Reputation of Romance Novels, Explained). It was a super cool party, with super cool people, and I got to catch up with a couple of awesome acquaintances and make some new ones while drinking champagne -- all of which makes me want to come back to NYC as soon as possible.
The party ended around seven, and then I absconded with Maya in a taxi to the East Village, where we met Terry to perpetrate an oyster holocaust at Mermaid Inn. We ended up eating four dozen oysters and three orders of fries (along with wine, por supuesto), which was way more expensive than it always was when I went with Ritu, since we missed happy hour and had to pay full price for the sea creatures. But they were worth it, as always, and my belly was very happy. Also, happily, I introduced Maya and Terry to each other, and since they're both SoulCycle cult members, they'll probably disconnect from me at the first opportunity.
Once we'd decimated the oyster population, it was time to part ways, so Terry and I shared a cab back to this side of the city. And even though I should perhaps have been social in the bar, I don't have it in me - I've been as social as I can ever be at these events, and I need to sleep tonight if I'm to survive the end of the conference + social time with Ritu et al over the next few days. But I'm feeling good about what I accomplished here (both in terms of oysters consumed and connections made/maintained/strengthened), so I think getting some sleep is v. well-deserved. Goodnight!
It was quite interesting, albeit v. depressing (as I should have expected from the title) - it was about writing through depression, and the panelists were some highly successful, critically acclaimed romance writers who have struggled (secretly or not-so-secretly) with depression. I don't think I've been depressed, exactly - the last two months since I left the day job have been pretty awesome, and I'm completely happy with that decision. That said, as any regular reader has probably observed, I've had some moments of total anxiety/panic, which for me often translates into lying on the couch and doing nothing until I remember to leave the house and get coffee. So, the topic was pretty interesting to me; of course, the answers were mostly anecdotal and more of the flavor of 'you're not alone and a lot of writers struggle with this' rather than any tried-and-true way to get off the couch and accomplish something. But it was certainly fascinating to hear others' stories, and to remember that my #firstworldproblems are not, at the end of the day, all that severe or insurmountable.
sssanyway, after that panel I needed a break from people, and I still wanted to write some notes about Rafe and Ava from my conversations yesterday, so I snuck away and had a salad and a coke (note: no wine) at a french bistro a couple of blocks from the hotel. Then I came back, talked to one of my friends (Miranda, whom I befriended in New Orleans last year), had a meeting with an audiobook person (great meeting, no resolution yet on whether I'm going to work with them), and then spent over an hour catching up with my friend Stephanie (we used to share an agent, and I totally adore her and think she's super smart).
At that point, I kind of just wanted a nap, but I rallied and walked fifteen minutes or so over to a rooftop bar near the New York Public Library, where my friend Maya was hosting a small cocktail soiree to celebrate the release of her latest nonfiction book (Dangerous Books for Girls: The Bad Reputation of Romance Novels, Explained). It was a super cool party, with super cool people, and I got to catch up with a couple of awesome acquaintances and make some new ones while drinking champagne -- all of which makes me want to come back to NYC as soon as possible.
The party ended around seven, and then I absconded with Maya in a taxi to the East Village, where we met Terry to perpetrate an oyster holocaust at Mermaid Inn. We ended up eating four dozen oysters and three orders of fries (along with wine, por supuesto), which was way more expensive than it always was when I went with Ritu, since we missed happy hour and had to pay full price for the sea creatures. But they were worth it, as always, and my belly was very happy. Also, happily, I introduced Maya and Terry to each other, and since they're both SoulCycle cult members, they'll probably disconnect from me at the first opportunity.
Once we'd decimated the oyster population, it was time to part ways, so Terry and I shared a cab back to this side of the city. And even though I should perhaps have been social in the bar, I don't have it in me - I've been as social as I can ever be at these events, and I need to sleep tonight if I'm to survive the end of the conference + social time with Ritu et al over the next few days. But I'm feeling good about what I accomplished here (both in terms of oysters consumed and connections made/maintained/strengthened), so I think getting some sleep is v. well-deserved. Goodnight!
No comments:
Post a Comment