In the Midst

The San Francisco Writers Conference is technically over, but Shannon Messenger and I decided to stay an extra couple nights, so I'm still gone.

But I have a few minutes at 2 AM to come visit with all of you, so I thought I'd share just a few of my thoughts from the last few days.



Miscellany of the San Francisco Writers Conference 2011


San Francisco in February  is colder than a witch's foot in brass socks. Who knew?

Shannon and I have the same toothbrush and toothpaste. Surely, this is a sign. That we need to get a second toothbrush. Or we're soul mates.

We were fortunate to meet the lovely Heather McCorkle. She laughed at my stupid jokes. We were fast friends.

I have suffered immensely without Coke Zero because some conference head chose to hold the event in a hotel without a gift shop, coffee shop, or soda machine. We only have a $5 can of soda in the mini bar, and we're not cracked in the head enough to bonfire our money. The Evian was $6.50. HEllo. But we finally found a coke machine in the basement of the hotel in a parking garage. AND it would only take quarters and for some reason also nickels. But we didn't have enough so we had to go back up and get change for our dollar bills (by this time we were ready to corner anyone with coffee on their breath). So we finally got some sodas and did a little celebration dance in the middle of the parking garage, tanked down our drinks, proclaiming how revived we felt, only to realize that my can of Diet Coke  (because they didn't actually have Coke Zero) was actually caffeine free. Go me.

Yesterday we listened in on a pitch to a major editor because we're avid eavesdroppers, only to realize that the guy wasn't pitching a book, not exactly--he was pitching a religion. The guy (who Shannon now refers to as the beret man...because he was wearing a beret) said he was starting a new religion and wanted to influence the youth of America, and in order to recruit teenagers he wanted to write a young adult book. This editor deserves major kudos for not even blinking an eye while she listened, though she just happened to be out of business cards to give him right at that moment. Strangely enough, she convinced beret man to go out and buy one of the books they had published.

Shannon sleeps with a stuffed elephant. Seriously. I have photographic evidence. Lucky for her, I forgot my memory card adapter.

Heather ate the purple cauliflower. Granted, Shannon and I egged her on to eat it. She did not like it. We figured she wouldn't. But she was a good sport. She didn't puke it up at ALL.

I learned a lot about San Francisco, like some parts of the city smell a little like skunk. But I didn't see any skunks anywhere. Weird. Shannon assures me this is normal. For San Francisco. Heather assures me it's also normal at Weezer concerts.

We ate at the same restaurant three nights in a row. Mainly because it was close. Two of those nights, I ate the rustic potato soup. The third night, we tried to find someplace else, but we got lost. Very lost. After stumbling our way up mountains, we ended up back in the same place. The coat check guy said, "I was beginning to think you wouldn't come." Actually, he didn't. But it was all over his face.

Every time Shannon walks out of the room, I fall asleep (Without-Shannon Narcolepsy) I recommend getting one of her for jet lag. Wish I could take her home with me. But I can't convince her to leave California and move to Indiana no matter how much popcorn and soybeans I offer her. She hesitated when I told her we have a trampoline. It was not enough. Apparently, trampolines are not as good as Disneyland.

I'm gonna miss you, Shannon. I'm gonna miss you Heather. I'm NOT gonna miss you, farty lady pretending not to stink up the place during our workshop.

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