I’m off to California in the morning, for the Romance Writers of America® National Conference in Anaheim. I won’t have a laptop to use this year, so I won’t be reporting on my activities late at night, but I’ll tell you all about it next week.
I have more social activities than workshops planned this year, and maybe that’s what the conference is really for. Last year I tried to go to as many presentations as possible, but this year I’m going to spend more time networking–and having fun. I think I’ll order the recordings and listen to the workshops I don’t attend over the next few months.
Both the Firebirds (the 2012 Golden Heart® Finalists) and the Starcatchers (the GH Class of 2011) have plans to get together for meals (as do the other recent GH groups, I’m sure), and West Houston RWA is having Happy Hour before the awards ceremony Saturday night–our chapter has five RITA® nominees (for published works) as well as two GH finalists, and I think we’ll all be there.
I think I’m packed, but I haven’t locked up my luggage yet. I have papers everywhere–reservations for airline flights, long term parking, and hotel room, my schedule from the Agenda Builder (very handy app) on the RWA website, invitations to a couple of parties, the schedule for the Golden Network retreat, the list of contents of the West Houston donation to the raffle at the Literacy Signing. I hope I can remember where I’m supposed to be and what I’m supposed to be doing at least half the time.
Nutmeg knows something is up, but I travel so infrequently that she’s not sure what it is. Cats’ instincts run deep–the minute I opened a suitcase on my bed, there she was, trying to crawl into it. What possible purpose does that mystical attraction between cats and luggage serve in the evolutionary scheme of things?