I'm sitting, waiting for a bell cart**, reading one of the approximately 1000 books from the conference (Linda and Lori collected many, many books) and I keep seeing examples of What Not To Do. This is an author whose stuff I love. And now I'm doing the dissection thing again. I forgot about that part of thinking Craft all the damn time.
I want to go back to being a reader and only apply this nit-picking to my own work. After years of being a way too critical reader, I'd reached that happy balance.
In other news, the lobby still smells like spray paint. Last night the artists lined up on Times Square just outside the hotel with the easels or tables and started drawing the passersby for $5 a pop. Maybe thirty people, mostly Asian, drawing astonishingly fast, good portraits.
Then there were other guys who used krylon spray paint cans (sounds outer space) and paint scrapers as blockers as they painted outer space scenes. The spray paint wafts around the place like nobody's business.
**L or L called and asked for a luggage rack and the guy just showed up with a luggage rack--you know, the kind that sits in the closet and no one uses. He tried to leave it here even though we don't need the one we already have.