Dear Person to whom I Babble:
I don't know who you are yet, but some unfortunate is going to come across me after I've self medicated and she's going to say hello and that'll be it. I'm not sure what the topic will be but I will talk. A lot. Let me just say now that I'm sorry and all the opinions I expressed aren't really my own. It's the lemon sour speaking.
Seriously what will I get from this conference? Time to hang with friends, yup. And the chance to hear that editors and agents are looking for fresh new voices. No, really?
I'm supposed to make new friends (influential important friends preferably....) but that's not likely to happen. When you look like you're as desperate as the ancient mariner, people try to veer away from you. He's coming off years of crazy on the becalmed sea with a dead albatross. I don't have good excuse except I hate crowds and have forgotten how to interact with adult humans. Why am I going? I should remember the important lessons learned at Paper Back Writer's knee and stay away from these things. Why?
Okay, time's up.
My whine schedule's over. Now my calendar says I should suppress the bitter hissing crone for a few days, except after a couple of beers or lemon sours. No one forced me to sign up for this thing (Linda and Lori?) so it's time for the big girl act. First I have to go find the key to the crap car and hope it doesn't break down on the highway.