Tuesday was nuts. I got myself down to NYU to register myself for the IASPR conference, which was amazing. I really enjoyed the worldbuilding workshop and had to sneak out partway through the money workshop so I could switch hotels. Thankfully, the Marriott let me check in a smidge early, so I could then register myself present for RWA and head back to the village for the last bit of IASPR workshops including the chat with Bertrice Small. I also met two other knitters and a crocheter there. I feel like I'm giving short shrift to the workshops, but they were so amazing that I worry I will be talking (writing) forever if I try to talk about the use of New York as a setting for a Bollywood movie, or the use of gender roles in the "Wall Street" films or the discussion of the history of f/f detective novels. So, short version, amazing. (If you want a longer version, I'm going to direct you here and here.) Now pondering when I can get to the next one.
A few of us then hopped on the subway back the Marriott for the RWA Literacy signing. Now, I confess, I've been to a few of these, and they were all a bit different. This one was nuts. I don't know if it was New York, or the large number of authors, or the fire code for the room or what. The signing started at 5:30. We got there at five and the line which started in the lobby and wrapped around the staging/cab/pickup area where they had ropes setting up three lanes, and was already bursting out of that around the corner and down the street, slowly taking over the space in front of a nearby theater. I looked over at my companion and said, "You know, my room has air conditioning." (She was determined.)
The good news about waiting in that line was there was lots of time to chat. Even once the doors to the signing opened (which was on the sixth floor by the way, apparently, I could have flashed my name badge and gotten into a shorter line, but live an learn) we chatted. We chatted with the folks around us. We chatted with some fellow cherries who showed up. We chatted as we made out way inside and up the escalators, and to the sixth floor where they wrapped and waited some more. And finally made it in, where it was mad. The sound, the light the people, it was instant overload.
I found my way to several authors where I fawned, stalked and paid respects. I told Jill Shalvis she had written "The Sweetest Thing" for me, since it was about an older sister named Tara even though she had never met me. (Details. She was kind enough to agree.) I told Thea Harrison I was halfway through "Dragon Bound". I told Sarah MacLean that "Eleven Scandals to Start to Win a Duke's Heart" made me cry. I waved at the lovely Christine Merrill and Robin Kaye. And I made my way to Rachael Herron who was knitting away, and told her I loved her, but I was going back to my room.
After decompression I headed out for dinner which was lovely.