The temptation to hike cases of books on my shoulder and make a break for the back window sent me into a sweat producing melt down.  Did I say there was a guard at the door?  There were six.  I’m good.  But six was my stealth limit.

I went back to the mixer.  I am reading nametags and Kathe Robbins is unfortunate enough to catch my eye.  I attack J She is very polite.  We waylay an Italian African American Author for Zebra, Deborah Johns.  She looks like Diana Ross.    Anyway, she said to send my book to her editor.  I can’t remember the name.  I will email Kathe later and ask her.  I need to keep notes enroute.

Tucking into my room for the night.

The mixer breaks up and I check into my room at 4:30.  Take a shower and head off to the snack shop for a salad.  I leave a message for Tara.  I call home.  The kids want Dave to leave and me to come back.  I’m loved.  I hope they feed my cats.

I eat my salad and immediately get sucked into reading one of the eight paperbacks Oracle.  I decide to check the schedule and see what I want to do tomorrow.  There is too much stuff.  I am going to miss something.  I noticed Nina Bruhn’s basket when I was in the clepto hall.  The clepto hall is the large area of “Free take one” stuff and raffle gift baskets to sign up for.  I signed up for Nina’s.  I love e-books.  I think I saw J.C.Wilder walk by as I was taking stuff.

Back in my room I play Free Cell on the laptop and tell myself I need to write all of this down for later so I don’t forget anything.  My order is on the door for room service breakfast – Eggs Benedict and Chocolate Milk.  Katherine Greyle’s Oracle is calling.  Must go.

Thursday, November 15, 2001 Day Two

I had breakfast in my hotel room with the Orlando Sentinel.  On the surface, this may seem trivial to note, but I can count on one hand the number of times I have had a quiet breakfast in jammies with a current newspaper.  These are the little things in life that matter.  No one else was there to turn on the TV.  It was bliss.  I unearthed the conference schedule from the bag of books and promotional freebies and analyzed the 9:30 sessions being offered.  It was a toss up.  I covered my eyes and pointed.

I was early to the e-Book lecture.  It was a medium size group of ladies and very informative.  They were slim on organization but that’s a good thing.  I actually went there to see Nina Bruhns.  She’s the author of the ebooks I read while the boss is on vacation. Nina was a no show.  I caught up with her at the next session in Ann Peaches room, which was a standing room only crowd. AND!  It was air-conditioned.  The Hyatt seems to stint on AC in some rooms.  Normally I could care less, but by god when I have to slather on foundation and mascara I expect arctic conditions.

Even better, no one else wanted the super cold air conditioner vent spot.  It’s all mine baby J I finally met Carol Stacy.  My first conversation with Carol was in January.  She described what RT wanted for my first article.  If I had known short hand, I still wouldn’t have gotten it all down.  It wasn’t until Tara interpreted for me that I got the gist.  Tara acts as Carol’s translator.

Carol announced who I was to the rest of the Beginning writer’s group.  They all smiled politely as if they hadn’t heard of me, but didn’t want to be the only one in the group to say so.  You have to love newbies.  They use courtesy as a defense

I escaped to the back of the classroom, in the cold spot.  Ann started the class. The girl next to me had a laptop (Toshiba Satellite) and was typing everything everyone said.  She looked as if she was about college age.  I told her she should sell her notes.  She thought that was a great idea.  Don’t hold your breath on that.  Pan up to the courtesy defense.

We were all there to learn about picking a winning sub-genre.  Half the panel wanted us to find our own comfort zone.  In engineering this might be described as falling to your level of equilibrium.  For some of us, that’s somewhere between a puddle and a shallow ditch.  No matter.  We are optimistic that the waters will rise even if it is only from our own sweat.  I think the trick is to write faster than water evaporates and you might get published.  Katherine Greyle has written a variety of genres and was somewhat of an idealist.  Nina Bruhn’s writes for Silhouette and was definitely a pragmatist.  There was something for everyone.

I moseyed off to see Tara and Laurie at the Mystery Writer’s room.  I hadn’t planed on staying.  Mystery isn’t my thing.  I stayed.  It was fun.  I caught Carol Stacey sneaking up on Tara and warned her that Tara is twitchy.  She isn’t, but I always wanted to say that.  I have decided that, while I still don’t read Mysteries, I LOVE hanging out with the mystery writers.  They are a very fun group.

Next up was Ann Peaches newbie class – again.  I learned all about conflict. 

This happens to be a subject on which I am somewhat of an expert.  I have been married for fifteen years after all and I have two kids.  It is however, one of my weakest points when writing.  I need to work on that.

And the seminars were done for the day.  We all headed into the Florida Hall for Lunch.  The Cover Models stripped off

their cloths on stage as I made polite conversation with the Vet from N. Carolina about my Cockatoo.  We discussed bird behaviors and possible cures.  If it works on a two year old, it will work on a cockatoo.  Nothing works on a two year old and cockatoos live to be 80.  I am screwed.

Tara and Laurie invited me to a cocktail party at 6 for the keynote speaker.  The keynote speaker was a mystery writer.  I drove Tara, Laurie and C.J. Songer over to Arabian Nights from there.  Dinner was served on long bench tables facing the arena where the show took place.  Almost everyone was in a costume of some description.  I wore black.  It goes with every time period.  C.J. wore a corset.  I knew we were going to hit it off right then and there.  Anyone who wears a corset to dinner is going to be fun.

I requested my Prime rib RARE.  The waitress politely said she would do her best but that it might not be possible.  I pleaded a wee tad.  The waitress said she would do her best.  C. J. said that I could be a pain in the ass AFTER I was published.  Until then I should eat the steak as it comes and be happy.  My god, I am at the bottom of the food chain in this world.  I forgot.

The Prime Rib was medium.  The show was great. Here’s a tip.  Always sit near Laurie  Davie for entertainment.  She gets excited over everything.  It’s so nice to have someone hooting and hollering unreservedly at the performers.  Makes the show exciting.  We debated what parts of the show were staged and what was real.  Hard to say.  After, we all went down to pat the horses and meet the riders.  Mingle time.  I scooted my group out one conversation group at a time and spent a great deal of time talking to Kathe Robins husband.  He is an engineer.  He remembers the long dead languages of my younger years.  We are like Latin Scholars, he and I.  Only a select few remember the codes, and once in a great while, someone pays us great sums of money for such knowledge, but mostly its just trivia.  He’s very nice.  He is a night person.  Kathe is a day person.  I am somewhere in between.

Out in the main bar room there is a catwalk going across the middle of the bar.  Everyone paraded their costumes.  Cover models stripped and walked the planks.  It was manic.  Everyone wanted a picture taken with Heather Graham.  She smiled and posed.  I never once heard her talking.  She’s just surrounded by people who see to it that she is in the right place at the right time in the right outfit.  Someone out there get me drunk if you catch me living like that.

This is a group of women who have been partying with each other every year for a long time and it shows.  They were still there partying after we left at a quarter to midnight.  I had a wonderful time.  It was a great day.

Friday, November 16, 2001Day Three

9:30 Ann Peaches Beginning Writer’s – Finding your writer’s voice.  We have Cheryl Ann Porter, Sandra Hill, Patty Steele Perkins, Kathy Grael, Kathe Robin.  She starts her lectures with famous rejections of books that went on to sell millions.  Reverse psychology?

I have no idea.

Cheryl Ann Porter.  Oh man.  I must meet this woman some day.  She is a blast.

11:00 Ann Peaches room again.  Notes: Synopsis is the mini-telling of your story.  Outline is a chapter-by-chapter skeleton of your story.  Synopsis – what your story is all about.  Format conventions: Double line, 1 1\2 “ margins.  20 lb paper, present tense, tells you whole story, page of synopsis for every 25 pages of ms – Ann says too long – use Evan’s as max.  Begin with good hook – don’t fill in back story – no character’s past.  Insert cliffhangers in your synopsis the same way you do this in the book.  Don’t review yourself in your synopsis.  Don’t editorialize.  Polish it.

Helen Holmes Rosberg.  Read a beautiful poem from her book.  Pretty much everyone got a copy of it but me.  The lady next to me offered me her copy.  It was kind of her to offer.  I politely declined.  The poem she read almost made me cry.  I can’t have an entire book like that in my possession.  I would fall into a perpetual blue funk.  Pockets of blue funks are OK.  A small roller coaster dip is fine.  The full on sobbing jag is to be avoided at all costs.

She then asked us to synopsize it in small bites.  I am suffering from a hangover.  Sadly, I sat at a table that participates.  As I attempted to crawl under the table with my Diet Pepsi and Advil, My tablemates were piping up with “excellent” answers.  Gawd.

Anyway, everyone has left and I am packing up to see what’s for lunch.

In the Florida Hall all the usual suspects assemble.  One of the Florida writers who had asked me to check on a review for her first book found out that she received 4 1\2 stars and top pick in the December issue.  Ann Peach was sitting next to me.  She gathers up the lost aspiring writers and takes care of them.  She is, quite possibly, one of the nicest women I have ever met.

On the stage the RT gang was saluting the CEO of Genesis press.  They were hosting the lunch.  Several authors serenaded him.  While it may be possible that writers can sing on key, I’m thinking that some mixing assistance and lip-synching would have been helpful for this portion of the show.  The male cover model contestants stripped again.  This was going to be a long lunch.

Awards were handed out to the winners who were present to accept.  The Keynote speaker gave a very good speech.  Kensington announced the winner of the new Historical Voice competition.  It was the girl in my class earlier who kept giving all the “excellent” answers.  I’m thinking, she’s not the raw recruit she is pretending to be.  She’s been on this treadmill for a while.  I’m guessing she’s up to at least medium difficulty and 45 minutes.  I am still on Easy, level and 10 minutes.  Her shriek was great though.  The frustration and pent up expectations of years screeched out in one whoop.  It was beautiful.

Lunch was over.  The room was cleared for the set up of the cover model competition.  As everyone was milling about in the lobby I made good on my escape.  There was no possible way I could sit through another session of naked men.  As I raced down the hall I ran into Connie Mason.  I felt compelled to explain my undignified exit in the following way.

“If I stay the blood will rush to my head and I will pass out.”

She nearly fell over from laughing so hard.

After that, I did what I always do during moments of stress.  I went shopping.  Apopka-Vineland Road was the main artery from my home on Kilgore Road to Disney City, other wise referred to as Kissimmee.  I have driven this road hundreds of times going to the Hyatt to work in 1979.  I used to know this road like the back of my hand.  I recognized nothing.  International Drive had extended into 17-92 and there were contrived road names like Celebration Avenue.  I didn’t see anything about it that looked jubilant.  Perhaps if they placed a bar on the corner it would look more chipper.  I found, and I think I have some sort of homing device for this, The Gap.  A few hundred dollars later and I went back to my room to change for dinner.  I wasn’t especially looking forward to going out.  There were parties scheduled from 9 pm on.  Tara called and asked me to join the mystery writers for dinner.  When I got to the lobby they were walking to the restaurant.  This was no small distance from the hotel.  I was wearing heels.  New heels.  Extremely uncomfortable heels.  I bowed out and drove to Wendy’s.  I rented Jurassic Park III on the hotel Movie Menu and vegged.  Yes.  I know this is a cop out.  I actually contemplated checking out early after the book fair on Saturday.  I called Dave.  I missed the kids. He told me to stick it out.

I did.

Saturday, November 17, 2001 Day Four

All week I had been thinking that the seminars began at 9 am.  I was wrong.  They started at 9:30.  I have time for only one session before the Book Fair in the big Florida Hall.  I have never been to a book fair.  I had no idea what to expect.  I was pretty sure that my bank account was going seriously suffer.  Only time would tell how bad the damage would be.

At 9:20 I crept into the marginally air-conditioned room claimed by the eBook coalition.  These were the editors, a few authors and one guy representing a new eBook device called a HieBook.  Since my forays into Audible.com I was now a voracious seeker of information on MP3 players, eBooks, Handhelds and all combinations of such devices herein.  The HieBook could play audio books and had it’s own proprietary eBook Reader format which, the editors of Awe-struck and RFIwest assured me was a snap to use.  I took over the session.  Awe-Struck uses a Journada, which can also be used as an MP3 player, which also serves as an eReader and is mostly a PDA – Personal Digital Assistant.  It’s in color.  I must have one.  Suddenly, My Palm VIIx seem woefully inadequate.  Sigh.

As I grilled the token guy about readers and reader conversion software and siphoned every bit of information about the nitty-gritty of the eBook publishing biz, the trophy authors trickled out of the room to head down to set up for the book fair.  I have found that as soon as the tech talk begins, the room clears of all but the serious geeks.

I learned that, while it used to be easy to get access to the ePublishers – if not actually published – it is now almost as difficult as the brick and mortar, cobweb-ridden companies.  Good to know.

I found out that the editors fight the web sellers for number of download stats and payments for copies downloaded.  I found this particular bit of information fascinating.  They put the books out there on a leap of faith.

There is no independent verification from the websellers as to how many of which book were downloaded in a given period of time except what the web-sellers say.  They write the software that tracks this number.  I contemplated the coding expertise required to handle such transaction accounting and considered how man y morons were out there with crappy web sites and I wondered how the hell these people were making any money at all.  EBooks may be the first online religion of their kind.  I can’t think of a greater test of faith in your fellow geek or the machines that drive them than this.  I looked at these women with entirely new respect.  They were like the pioneers who traveled west with no idea what scum waited behind the next butte, what weather tragedy would befall them, what illness would overtake them.  This was the Donner party at their last meal.  Some survived.  Some brave few willing to eat the rest for breakfast, lunch and dinner.  Which one of these ladies looked the most ruthless.  Hard to say.  Only time would tell.  I felt like a kid in a candy store with a new flavor.  Time was up.

The Book Fair.

In the giant Florida Hall row upon row of tables were set up for the Romance and Mystery authors.  I have no idea how many were set up.  The cover models were set up at the entrance to the right.  Leland and Leslie were setup front and center.  Acolytes kneeling before Dara Joy in the second row.  Readers were lined up 6 deep in front of some of the authors.  I think I bought one or two books from each author.  I took my books to my room with Tara and went back in to buy from the ones I had missed the first time around.  I spent over $300.  This represents about two months worth of book purchases for me. I was in heaven.

 

 

 

Text Box: Wednesday, November 14, 2001 Day One At Home.  Tavernier Key. Woke up at 6.  Went back to sleep.  Woke up again at 7.  Attempted to go back to sleep but kids refused to allow it.  Got up.  Snuck back into bed.  Husband tickled me until I had no choice but to get up.  Mornings suck. Gobbed Clarol Herbal Essence Beige Blond color goo on head and ate breakfast. A bagel.  Showered and dressed.  Packed.  9 am – attempted to depart home.  Cats and birds reminded me that I needed to feed them.  Dave went down to pour the last of the hurricane gas reserve into my gas tank.  He loves me.  I hate being tickled though. Depart at 9:30.  Stopped off and paid the power bill.  Stopped in at Best Buy to get power jack for laptop in car.  They didn’t have one.  Stopped at Ft Drum for Burger King\ bathroom break.  NPR outside of Miami sucks.  I mean seriously sucks, but not as bad as everything else on the dial.  I listened to The Fiery Cross on my Laptop (Downloaded from my new favorite website Audible.com.)  Laptop battery died in an hour - back to listening to classical music on NPR. Exited the Turnpike at about 2:30 PM onto 17-92 and went into location shock.  What in the hell has happened to my hometown?  I mean – it was never a scenic destination but god – it’s a cesspool of tourist traps.  I stare at it all, checking my directions, mouth agape, sinking into a deep blue funk.  I must make a note never to let this happen to the Keys.  Christ these people turned steak into a theme park. At The Hyatt in Kissimmee, Fl. I check in at 3.  The room won’t be ready until 4 so I roam off in a direction that looks promising.  I luck out.  A huge booth that says REGISTRATION BOOTH appears down a long hallway.  I walk up and stupidly ask, “Is this the registration booth?”  The lady next to me laughs.  The man behind the counter didn’t bat an eyelash.  “Yes ma’am.”  Something about Orlando transforms everyone into polite hosts.  Even NY’ers find themselves being pleasant and helpful.  It’s like a scene from the Stepford Wives.  They LOOK like real people, but you know different.  You saw the movie. I register.  My name is spelled correctly.  I am labeled as an Aspiring Writer.  OK by me.  I look at the schedule and go to the first mixer.  At first I know no one.  I wander out.  There is no one guarding the door.  This should probably be noted for future conventions.  We newbie conventioneers tend to wander from room to room – sometimes into rooms of adjoining conventions.  Women from the next convention over were defecting to follow the male cover models from our convention.  They tried to turn their badges over but the green leashes holding their name badges out’ed them.  I saw the men at their seminars.  I couldn’t blame them for defecting. The only door with a guard was the Goodie Bag room.  Friends, if I succeed at no other task this weekend I feel I have conquered the universe as we know it.  Getting out of that room with only the 8 paperbacks, one hard cover and one calendar in my hands was nothing short of military discipline on my part.  The temptation to hike cases of books on my shoulder and make a break for the back window sent me into a sweat producing melt down.  Did I say there was a guard at the door?  There were six.  I’m good.  But six was my stealth limit. I went back to the mixer.  I am reading nametags and Kathe Robbins is unfortunate enough to catch my eye.  I attack J She is very polite.  We waylay an Italian African American Author for Zebra, Deborah Johns.  She looks like Diana Ross.    Anyway, she said to send my book to her editor.  I can’t remember the name.  I will email Kathe later and ask her.  I need to keep notes enroute. Tucking into my room for the night. The mixer breaks up and I check into my room at 4:30.  Take a shower and head off to the snack shop for a salad.  I leave a message for Tara.  I call home.  The kids want Dave to leave and me to come back.  I’m loved.  I hope they feed my cats. I eat my salad and immediately get sucked into reading one of the eight paperbacks Oracle.  I decide to check the schedule and see what I want to do tomorrow.  There is too much stuff.  I am going to miss something.  I noticed Nina Bruhn’s basket when I was in the clepto hall.  The clepto hall is the large area of “Free take one” stuff and raffle gift baskets to sign up for.  I signed up for Nina’s.  I love e-books.  I think I saw J.C.Wilder walk by as I was taking stuff. Back in my room I play Free Cell on the laptop and tell myself I need to write all of this down for later so I don’t forget anything.  My order is on the door for room service breakfast – Eggs Benedict and Chocolate Milk.  Katherine Greyle’s Oracle is calling.  Must go. Thursday, November 15, 2001 Day Two I had breakfast in my hotel room with the Orlando Sentinel.  On the surface, this may seem trivial to note, but I can count on one hand the number of times I have had a quiet breakfast in jammies with a current newspaper.  These are the little things in life that matter.  No one else was there to turn on the TV.  It was bliss.  I unearthed the conference schedule from the bag of books and promotional freebies and analyzed the 9:30 sessions being offered.  It was a toss up.  I covered my eyes and pointed. I was early to the e-Book lecture.  It was a medium size group of ladies and very informative.  They were slim on organization but that’s a good thing.  I actually went there to see Nina Bruhns.  She’s the author of the ebooks I read while the boss is on vacation. Nina was a no show.  I caught up with her at the next session in Ann Peaches room, which was a standing room only crowd. AND!  It was air-conditioned.  The Hyatt seems to stint on AC in some rooms.  Normally I could care less, but by god when I have to slather on foundation and mascara I expect arctic conditions. Even better, no one else wanted the super cold air conditioner vent spot.  It’s all mine baby J I finally met Carol Stacy.  My first conversation with Carol was in January.  She described what RT wanted for my first article.  If I had known short hand, I still wouldn’t have gotten it all down.  It wasn’t until Tara interpreted for me that I got the gist.  Tara acts as Carol’s translator. Carol announced who I was to the rest of the Beginning writer’s group.  They all smiled politely as if they hadn’t heard of me, but didn’t want to be the only one in the group to say so.  You have to love newbies.  They use courtesy as a defense I escaped to the back of the classroom, in the cold spot.  Ann started the class. The girl next to me had a laptop (Toshiba Satellite) and was typing everything everyone said.  She looked as if she was about college age.  I told her she should sell her notes.  She thought that was a great idea.  Don’t hold your breath on that.  Pan up to the courtesy defense. We were all there to learn about picking a winning sub-genre.  Half the panel wanted us to find our own comfort zone.  In engineering this might be described as falling to your level of equilibrium.  For some of us, that’s somewhere between a puddle and a shallow ditch.  No matter.  We are optimistic that the waters will rise even if it is only from our own sweat.  I think the trick is to write faster than water evaporates and you might get published.  Katherine Greyle has written a variety of genres and was somewhat of an idealist.  Nina Bruhn’s writes for Silhouette and was definitely a pragmatist.  There was something for everyone. I moseyed off to see Tara and Laurie at the Mystery Writer’s room.  I hadn’t planed on staying.  Mystery isn’t my thing.  I stayed.  It was fun.  I caught Carol Stacey sneaking up on Tara and warned her that Tara is twitchy.  She isn’t, but I always wanted to say that.  I have decided that, while I still don’t read Mysteries, I LOVE hanging out with the mystery writers.  They are a very fun group. Next up was Ann Peaches newbie class – again.  I learned all about conflict.  This happens to be a subject on which I am somewhat of an expert.  I have been married for fifteen years after all and I have two kids.  It is however, one of my weakest points when writing.  I need to work on that. And the seminars were done for the day.  We all headed into the Florida Hall for Lunch.  The Cover Models stripped off their cloths on stage as I made polite conversation with the Vet from N. Carolina about my Cockatoo.  We discussed bird behaviors and possible cures.  If it works on a two year old, it will work on a cockatoo.  Nothing works on a two year old and cockatoos live to be 80.  I am screwed. Tara and Laurie invited me to a cocktail party at 6 for the keynote speaker.  The keynote speaker was a mystery writer.  I drove Tara, Laurie and C.J. Songer over to Arabian Nights from there.  Dinner was served on long bench tables facing the arena where the show took place.  Almost everyone was in a costume of some description.  I wore black.  It goes with every time period.  C.J. wore a corset.  I knew we were going to hit it off right then and there.  Anyone who wears a corset to dinner is going to be fun. I requested my Prime rib RARE.  The waitress politely said she would do her best but that it might not be possible.  I pleaded a wee tad.  The waitress said she would do her best.  C. J. said that I could be a pain in the ass AFTER I was published.  Until then I should eat the steak as it comes and be happy.  My god, I am at the bottom of the food chain in this world.  I forgot. The Prime Rib was medium.  The show was great. Here’s a tip.  Always sit near Laurie  Davie for entertainment.  She gets excited over everything.  It’s so nice to have someone hooting and hollering unreservedly at the performers.  Makes the show exciting.  We debated what parts of the show were staged and what was real.  Hard to say.  After, we all went down to pat the horses and meet the riders.  Mingle time.  I scooted my group out one conversation group at a time and spent a great deal of time talking to Kathe Robins husband.  He is an engineer.  He remembers the long dead languages of my younger years.  We are like Latin Scholars, he and I.  Only a select few remember the codes, and once in a great while, someone pays us great sums of money for such knowledge, but mostly its just trivia.  He’s very nice.  He is a night person.  Kathe is a day person.  I am somewhere in between. Out in the main bar room there is a catwalk going across the middle of the bar.  Everyone paraded their costumes.  Cover models stripped and walked the planks.  It was manic.  Everyone wanted a picture taken with Heather Graham.  She smiled and posed.  I never once heard her talking.  She’s just surrounded by people who see to it that she is in the right place at the right time in the right outfit.  Someone out there get me drunk if you catch me living like that. This is a group of women who have been partying with each other every year for a long time and it shows.  They were still there partying after we left at a quarter to midnight.  I had a wonderful time.  It was a great day. Friday, November 16, 2001Day Three 9:30 Ann Peaches Beginning Writer’s – Finding your writer’s voice.  We have Cheryl Ann Porter, Sandra Hill, Patty Steele Perkins, Kathy Grael, Kathe Robin.  She starts her lectures with famous rejections of books that went on to sell millions.  Reverse psychology? I have no idea. Cheryl Ann Porter.  Oh man.  I must meet this woman some day.  She is a blast. 11:00 Ann Peaches room again.  Notes: Synopsis is the mini-telling of your story.  Outline is a chapter-by-chapter skeleton of your story.  Synopsis – what your story is all about.  Format conventions: Double line, 1 1\2 “ margins.  20 lb paper, present tense, tells you whole story, page of synopsis for every 25 pages of ms – Ann says too long – use Evan’s as max.  Begin with good hook – don’t fill in back story – no character’s past.  Insert cliffhangers in your synopsis the same way you do this in the book.  Don’t review yourself in your synopsis.  Don’t editorialize.  Polish it. Helen Holmes Rosberg.  Read a beautiful poem from her book.  Pretty much everyone got a copy of it but me.  The lady next to me offered me her copy.  It was kind of her to offer.  I politely declined.  The poem she read almost made me cry.  I can’t have an entire book like that in my possession.  I would fall into a perpetual blue funk.  Pockets of blue funks are OK.  A small roller coaster dip is fine.  The full on sobbing jag is to be avoided at all costs. She then asked us to synopsize it in small bites.  I am suffering from a hangover.  Sadly, I sat at a table that participates.  As I attempted to crawl under the table with my Diet Pepsi and Advil, My tablemates were piping up with “excellent” answers.  Gawd. Anyway, everyone has left and I am packing up to see what’s for lunch. In the Florida Hall all the usual suspects assemble.  One of the Florida writers who had asked me to check on a review for her first book found out that she received 4 1\2 stars and top pick in the December issue.  Ann Peach was sitting next to me.  She gathers up the lost aspiring writers and takes care of them.  She is, quite possibly, one of the nicest women I have ever met. On the stage the RT gang was saluting the CEO of Genesis press.  They were hosting the lunch.  Several authors serenaded him.  While it may be possible that writers can sing on key, I’m thinking that some mixing assistance and lip-synching would have been helpful for this portion of the show.  The male cover model contestants stripped again.  This was going to be a long lunch. Awards were handed out to the winners who were present to accept.  The Keynote speaker gave a very good speech.  Kensington announced the winner of the new Historical Voice competition.  It was the girl in my class earlier who kept giving all the “excellent” answers.  I’m thinking, she’s not the raw recruit she is pretending to be.  She’s been on this treadmill for a while.  I’m guessing she’s up to at least medium difficulty and 45 minutes.  I am still on Easy, level and 10 minutes.  Her shriek was great though.  The frustration and pent up expectations of years screeched out in one whoop.  It was beautiful. Lunch was over.  The room was cleared for the set up of the cover model competition.  As everyone was milling about in the lobby I made good on my escape.  There was no possible way I could sit through another session of naked men.  As I raced down the hall I ran into Connie Mason.  I felt compelled to explain my undignified exit in the following way. “If I stay the blood will rush to my head and I will pass out.” She nearly fell over from laughing so hard. After that, I did what I always do during moments of stress.  I went shopping.  Apopka-Vineland Road was the main artery from my home on Kilgore Road to Disney City, other wise referred to as Kissimmee.  I have driven this road hundreds of times going to the Hyatt to work in 1979.  I used to know this road like the back of my hand.  I recognized nothing.  International Drive had extended into 17-92 and there were contrived road names like Celebration Avenue.  I didn’t see anything about it that looked jubilant.  Perhaps if they placed a bar on the corner it would look more chipper.  I found, and I think I have some sort of homing device for this, The Gap.  A few hundred dollars later and I went back to my room to change for dinner.  I wasn’t especially looking forward to going out.  There were parties scheduled from 9 pm on.  Tara called and asked me to join the mystery writers for dinner.  When I got to the lobby they were walking to the restaurant.  This was no small distance from the hotel.  I was wearing heels.  New heels.  Extremely uncomfortable heels.  I bowed out and drove to Wendy’s.  I rented Jurassic Park III on the hotel Movie Menu and vegged.  Yes.  I know this is a cop out.  I actually contemplated checking out early after the book fair on Saturday.  I called Dave.  I missed the kids. He told me to stick it out. I did. Saturday, November 17, 2001 Day Four All week I had been thinking that the seminars began at 9 am.  I was wrong.  They started at 9:30.  I have time for only one session before the Book Fair in the big Florida Hall.  I have never been to a book fair.  I had no idea what to expect.  I was pretty sure that my bank account was going seriously suffer.  Only time would tell how bad the damage would be. At 9:20 I crept into the marginally air-conditioned room claimed by the eBook coalition.  These were the editors, a few authors and one guy representing a new eBook device called a HieBook.  Since my forays into Audible.com I was now a voracious seeker of information on MP3 players, eBooks, Handhelds and all combinations of such devices herein.  The HieBook could play audio books and had it’s own proprietary eBook Reader format which, the editors of Awe-struck and RFIwest assured me was a snap to use.  I took over the session.  Awe-Struck uses a Journada, which can also be used as an MP3 player, which also serves as an eReader and is mostly a PDA – Personal Digital Assistant.  It’s in color.  I must have one.  Suddenly, My Palm VIIx seem woefully inadequate.  Sigh. As I grilled the token guy about readers and reader conversion software and siphoned every bit of information about the nitty-gritty of the eBook publishing biz, the trophy authors trickled out of the room to head down to set up for the book fair.  I have found that as soon as the tech talk begins, the room clears of all but the serious geeks. I learned that, while it used to be easy to get access to the ePublishers – if not actually published – it is now almost as difficult as the brick and mortar, cobweb-ridden companies.  Good to know. I found out that the editors fight the web sellers for number of download stats and payments for copies downloaded.  I found this particular bit of information fascinating.  They put the books out there on a leap of faith. There is no independent verification from the websellers as to how many of which book were downloaded in a given period of time except what the web-sellers say.  They write the software that tracks this number.  I contemplated the coding expertise required to handle such transaction accounting and considered how man y morons were out there with crappy web sites and I wondered how the hell these people were making any money at all.  EBooks may be the first online religion of their kind.  I can’t think of a greater test of faith in your fellow geek or the machines that drive them than this.  I looked at these women with entirely new respect.  They were like the pioneers who traveled west with no idea what scum waited behind the next butte, what weather tragedy would befall them, what illness would overtake them.  This was the Donner party at their last meal.  Some survived.  Some brave few willing to eat the rest for breakfast, lunch and dinner.  Which one of these ladies looked the most ruthless.  Hard to say.  Only time would tell.  I felt like a kid in a candy store with a new flavor.  Time was up. The Book Fair. In the giant Florida Hall row upon row of tables were set up for the Romance and Mystery authors.  I have no idea how many were set up.  The cover models were set up at the entrance to the right.  Leland and Leslie were setup front and center.  Acolytes kneeling before Dara Joy in the second row.  Readers were lined up 6 deep in front of some of the authors.  I think I bought one or two books from each author.  I took my books to my room with Tara and went back in to buy from the ones I had missed the first time around.  I spent over $300.  This represents about two months worth of book purchases for me. I was in heaven.