Susan M. Boyer

USA TODAY Bestselling Author
Agatha Award Winner

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Susan M. Boyer

USA TODAY Bestselling Author
Agatha Award Winner

  • Home
  • About
    • Bio
    • Media Kit
    • Photo Galleries
    • Privacy Policy
    • Stella Maris Books, LLC
  • Books
    • The Liz Talbot Mystery Series
    • Carolina Tales
  • Maps & Extras
    • Stella Maris
      • Who’s Who in Stella Maris
      • Stella Maris Map
    • Carolina Tales
      • Coming Soon!
  • News
  • Events
  • Blog
  • Contact

Should I Become a Hermit, This is Why…

November 5, 2019 in Conferences, Crazy Happens, Road Trip

Y’all, last week I was at Bouchercon, an annual convention for fans and authors of mystery fiction, in Dallas. I had the pleasure to serve on the Southern Charm panel Friday morning along with Claire Booth, Kelly Ford, Roger Johns, and my friend and fellow Carolinian, Cathy Pickens. (Somehow, they talked J.D. Allen into moderating us, bless her heart.) We chewed on all things Southern mystery fiction, then had our turn at signing books.

I saw many old friends and met a few new ones. When you get more than 1,700 mystery lovers in one place for five days, with all manner of celebrations, lunches, dinners, interviews, panels, and of course, quality time in the bar, well, one’s energy tends to get a bit sapped.

I had a blast and ended up pleasantly exhausted, but this isn’t about that. It’s about the long and winding road home.

I was in a somewhat frazzled state (see above) when Sugar and I began our trip home Sunday morning. Well, I was headed home, anyway. Sugar was headed to see a client in Pennsylvania. But he coordinated our flights out of Dallas so he could talk Delta into taking me and all my luggage home without our having to mortgage the house. (Sugar is a million-miler. I fly a few times a year. Delta likes him much better than me, and I don’t travel light.)

The first indication this would not be a good travel day came when the agent at baggage drop told us my flight had been delayed. But after much clicking on her keyboard and squinting at her screen, she was able to change me to another flight so I wouldn’t miss my connection in Atlanta. Sugar negotiated getting the baggage checked, except the agent balked at the big Stetson box carrying our brand new hats. “I’d carry that,” she said, with a knowing look. 

“But I have my (85 pound) back pack (stuffed to near bursting) and my purse,” I said. “I’m afraid the gate agent won’t let me carry on a third piece.” They’re typically pretty serious about the two item limit.

“That’s a l’il tiny purse,” she said. “You can fit that inside your back pack. If it’s just partway in, it’ll be fine.”

I had no faith whatsoever that my backpack would hold so much as another lipstick, but Sugar didn’t want his Stetson checked to begin with, so I went along. We proceeded to the Delta club. At this point, Sugar was carrying both our laptop backpacks and the Stetson box. I had my small, crossbody bag. We settled into comfy chairs and had breakfast.

After an hour, Sugar walked me to my gate and helped me squeeze my purse into my backpack. Then the delays commenced on my reassigned flight.

We (Sugar) hauled all our stuff back to the Delta club, situated ourselves near a flight monitor, got refreshing beverages, and watched the departure time for my flight change until it became clear it was unlikely I’d make my connection. Sugar went and spoke with someone at the desk and came back with a slip of paper and told me I was “backed up” on the next flight to Greenville from Atlanta just in case.

Eventually, they settled on a departure time and Sugar hauled me and my things back to the gate. I lugged my stuffed-like-a-sausage backpack and the huge Stetson box with the thin, rough twine “handle” onto the plane. Miraculously, both items fit in the overhead bin. I popped in my headphones and watched a movie. The flight to Atlanta was actually quite pleasant.

As soon as the wheels of the plane touched down, I checked the status of my flight to Greenville on my phone. It was already boarding. We’d landed at concourse T, and my connecting flight was at a B gate. I’d have to run, but maybe I could make it…

There was a delay in getting the jetway to the plane. I managed to hit only one woman on the head with that hateful, ginormous hatbox while getting my stuff out of the overhead bin. (She graciously accepted my profuse apologies.) Once we were able to start deplaning, everyone rushed to make a connection so it was a free-for-all. But maybe I could make it…

I dashed down the jetway and through the terminal, (to the extent one can dash while weighted down like a pack mule on a cross-country expedition) took the escalator down to the plane train, and rode the two stops to B gates. I took the escalator up and hurried as fast as I could to gate B2–naturally, the one next to the last one at the far end of the concourse.

The string on the hat box cut into my fingers and kept twisting around and cutting off my circulation. My backpack made it impossible to move with any speed. I was panting and having heart palpitations from the unaccustomed exertion. Even though it seemed I was moving at a snail’s pace, people in front of me were moving slower still, meandering through the concourse, taking in the lovely sights. Several times, people just stopped abruptly and stood in the middle of the walkway right in front of me, causing me to have to dive around them to keep from plowing over them. It was a struggle to hold onto my sunny disposition, is what I’m saying.

When at long last I arrived at the gate, the sign still said “Boarding!”

Hallelujah!

But wait–there were no gate agents. The plane was still there. The sign clearly said they were boarding all passengers. But the door was closed. Three other poor souls stumbled to the gate, gasping for breath. One of the women wore a look of incomprehension, a mirror of mine, no doubt.

“They’ve closed the door,” her husband said. “They won’t open it.”

I sighed, but was exceedingly grateful that Sugar had me “backed up.” I went to the nearest monitor and saw that my back-up flight left from gate B-32. You’d think gate B-32 wouldn’t be all that far from gate B-2. It’s on the same concourse, after all. I wouldn’t have to ride the plane train to get there.

Let me tell you, that was a long hike. I had to stop a couple times along the way to put my things down to rest my hands and arms, and once for water.

When I reached the outpost that was gate B-32, I waited in line for my turn to speak to the gate agent. I don’t think she was having an especially good day. I smiled brightly, mindful of what surely was my disheveled appearance, and started to tell her my story. Seven words in–after she heard “Greenville” come out of my mouth, she said, “Greenville’s had a gate change. It’s at B-10.” I might have started babbling at that point. She repeated that I needed to go to gate B-10. She wasn’t smiling, but she did tell me to have a nice day as I stumbled away.

When I’d made it nearly all the way back from whence I’d come, I went to speak with the gate agent at B-10. “I have you on the flight,” he said. He handed me back my original boarding pass from the flight I’d missed and said, “Use this to board.”

I collapsed into a chair and responded to Sugar, who’d sent me several texts I hadn’t been able to answer. He was on a flight to Detroit and using the plane’s wifi. After that, I might have lost consciousness for a while, but when I came to, the gate agent called anyone who needed extra time getting down the jetway to board. Now, I’m not a feeble person nor an infirm one either. But on that particular day, let me tell you, I needed extra time.

I gathered my things and stumbled towards the door.

He scanned my boarding pass, then said, “Uh-oh.”

“Uh-oh?” I asked.

“Are you on this flight?” he asked.

“You just told me I was,” I said.

He looked at me. “Don’t you have a boarding pass?”

“You told me to use that one.”

“I did, didn’t I?” He started clicking and squinting. Finally, a printer spit out a new boarding pass. He scanned it, then handed it to me.

I crawled down the jetway, onto the plane, and into my seat.

Now, before we’d left Greenville, Sugar dropped me and all the luggage at the curb at the airport and went to park the car. One piece at a time, I moved our stuff back out of the way. Several other vehicles pulled to the curb and people got out, hugged goodbye and all that. When Sugar got to the terminal to gather me and that huge pile of stuff, he told me exactly where he’d parked. We’d gone over it several times during the course of the week, and again before I’d left Dallas. I remember it vividly. “It’s on the fourth level in the garage,” he said. “You walk straight off the elevator and it’s right there on the left.”

After I collected my big suitcase and my medium suitcase from the office near baggage claim where they’d been waiting because they had made the original flight from Atlanta to Greenville, I propped my backpack onto one of them and that infernal hatbox on the other and rolled everything all the way to the other end of the terminal, out the door, down the ramp, up the elevator and off it on the fourth level.

At that point, I longed for my six-year-old Ford Edge. It’s not glamorous, but the seats are comfortable, and the back holds all my stuff. I just wanted to get my things in the car and go home.

The fourth level of the parking garage was virtually empty. I could clearly see there were only two cars on the whole thing, neither of them mine. Panic was rising in my throat. Had the car been stolen? Why would someone steal my car? Surely there were flashier cars to steal. A little voice in my head reminded me that car thieves don’t usually steal attention-grabbing cars. Which made mine a perfect target.

Maybe Sugar was mistaken. I checked the fifth level. It was also virtually empty, and my car wasn’t there.

By this time, I had an urgent need for the powder room, but there isn’t one in the parking garage. I went to level three. This level was nearly full of cars. I slugged every inch of it looking for mine. Then I checked level two.

Where on earth was my car? Who could I call to come and…what could anyone actually do? I’d have to find the airport police.

What time was it? Sugar would be landing in Detroit any minute. I tried to call him, but no answer. I rolled all my stuff back down to the ground level and up the ramp to the sidewalk.

I’d missed a text from Sugar telling me I had plenty of time to get the things I was carrying to the car while the baggage handlers unloaded the plane. He was thinking I’d make two trips, because he’d given me this advice several times. Apparently, he’d forgotten my luggage would have been on my original flight. I texted him back: I can’t find the car.

Then I called him again and he answered. “Walk straight off the elevator on the fourth level,” he said.

“I did that,” I told him. “It’s virtually empty. The car’s not there. I also checked levels five, three, and two.”

He was quiet for a few seconds. “Are you in the garage nearest to baggage claim?”

“No,” I said. “I’m in the garage you park in every single time you come to the airport (roughly 50 times a year, because even if he’s on vacation, we’re usually flying somewhere). On the other end of the terminal.”

“I thought it would be easier for you if I left the car in the garage near baggage claim,” he said.

“And it absolutely would have been, if only I’d known it was there.”

Utter silence.

“I’ve got to find a powder room,” I said.

Eventually, I found my car. But it has taken me most of two days to recover.

It may be a while before I pack another suitcase.

 

 

 

 

Filed Under: Conferences, Crazy Happens, Road Trip Tagged With: Conferences, Crazy Happens, Road Trip

In Which Dreams Come True

January 15, 2015 in Conferences, Cover Reveal, I Am Therefore I Write

LOWCOUNTRY BONEYARD front under 2mbLike many freakishly voracious readers, I have a long list of favorite authors. But, I confess I once paid little attention to bestseller lists. Until the day somewhere in the 2005-2006 timeframe when I figured out I needed to see what was selling, because after all, I was a novelist with aspirations of publication.

I went to the Barnes & Noble website and pulled up mystery books. The top six bestselling mysteries were the first six Sookie Stackhouse books by Charlaine Harris. Vampires? I’d never read vampires.

I went to Barnes & Noble and bought the first one. I needed to see what this was all about. When I got home, I read Dead until Dark from cover to cover in one sitting. Then I raced back to Barnes & Noble and bought a copy of every single Charlaine Harris book they had in the store. A fan was born. Since that day, I have snapped up everything she writes as fast as it’s published and promptly binge-read it. She’s a fabulous storyteller. And I am her biggest fan.

I first met Charlaine at Sleuthfest in 2012, six months before my first book was released. I came early to a panel and sat in the center of the room in the third row. Charlaine and her friend sat down beside me. Of course I knew immediately who she was–I had her photo on a growing collection of books. I said something like, “I’m trying really hard not to be an annoying fangirl.”

She replied, “I was just thinking how much I like that sweater.” She introduced me to her friend, and we had a lovely conversation about how we liked a certain clothing store. If I’ve ever met a more charming, warm, down-to-earth person in my life I can’t recall it.

Imagine how overjoyed I was when I got my panel assignments for Bouchercon this past year and discovered I was on a panel with Charlaine Harris. I danced around the house on air for days.

Our panel was scheduled for Saturday. On Thursday afternoon, as I took a seat to watch another panel, I noticed Charlaine was seated behind me—y’all, I swear I was not stalking her, though I did joke that I was. I turned around and said hello, and we chatted for a few minutes. I told her the unvarnished truth—that I was her biggest fan and would try my very best not to stutter, blubber, et cetera on our panel. She put me immediately at ease. I had a wonderful time on the panel. And the photo of me beside her on that stage has been blown up and framed for my office.

All of this to explain how positively ecstatic I am to share with y’all the cover for the third Liz Talbot Mystery, LOWCOUNTRY BONEYARD, which releases April 21. The cover quote has been shortened a bit to fit, but here it is in its entirety:

“LOWCOUNTRY BONEYARD has everything you could want in a traditional mystery: a credible and savvy protagonist, a meaty mystery, and setting that will make you want to spend time in South Carolina. I enjoyed every minute of it.”

~~ Charlaine Harris, New York Times Bestselling Author of Day Shift

I am grateful beyond measure. To have an author you so admire read and like your work is both humbling and intoxicating. To have her comments on the cover of your book is a trip on Cloud Nine.

 

My best,

 

Susan

Filed Under: Conferences, Cover Reveal, I Am Therefore I Write Tagged With: Conferences, Cover Reveal, I Am Therefore I Write

Fabulous Weekend at SC Book Festival!

May 21, 2013 in Conferences, I Am Therefore I Write

I’m just back from the annual SC Book Festival. Wow, what a ride!

SC Book Festival Booth

Friday, friend and fellow author, Kim Boykin, and I set up our booth. We couldn’t have asked for a better spot. We were right next to Barnes and Noble, and across from where the book signings were held after panels. Five different Master Classes were on the schedule for Friday, and all of them sounded fantastic, but Kim and I had decorating to do. Friday evening’s opening reception was held at the F. Hollings Special Collections Library at the Thomas Cooper Library at the University of South Carolina. Oh my stars! So many of my literary heroes in one room–and a feast, and an open bar. Saturday, May 18, was officially declared Pat Conroy day AND Paula Watkins day. You may have heard of Pat Conroy–he’s published a few books. Paula Watkins is the super hero at the SC Humanities Council who has made SC Book Fest a reality for the past seven years.

Saturday, the exhibit hall opened at 10:00 am. I was bowled over when Barnes and Noble sold out of Lowcountry Boil shortly after noon–only a little over two hours into the festival. Fortunately, another super hero, Jill Hendrix, owner of Greenville’s wonderful independent bookstore, Fiction Addiction, had ordered stock for our exhibit booth. My first panel, Women of Mystery, was at 3:20. Other authors on the panel were C. Hope Clark, Sue Duffy, and Sasscer Hill. We had so much fun, and such a great turnout! And what a wonderful surprise on Sunday morning when a friend told me we had made the front page of the State newspaper Metro section!

BookFest 2013 (2)But, I’m getting ahead of myself! Saturday was full of meeting new friends and reconnecting with friends I haven’t seen in a while. My favorite moment of the entire day was when one of my very favorite authors, Mary Kay Andrews, bought a copy of Lowcountry Boil and asked me to sign it. I know I babbled like an idiot. But it was a moment I’ll remember the rest of my life.

Then, Saturday evening, The Literary Vine was a party that would have been the result if someone had said, Susan, what is your idea of the perfect party?” It was held at the Richland Library, and featured four floors full of wine tastings and food from local restaurants–and a jazz ensemble. And a photo booth with masks and boas. And prizes. The wines were incredible, and I’m still dreaming about the crab cakes and the Vidalia onion dip–so much good food.

Sunday morning, I was scheduled to have breakfast with a friend, and through a series of fortunate events, I ended up also having breakfast with Mary Kay Andrews before she headed out to a local flea market. I thought my day couldn’t get any better until I arrived at the exhibit hall and found out about the newspaper article. My panel Sunday afternoon was with friends and fellow mystery writers Sasscer Hill and James M. Jackson, and our friend Paula Benson moderating–another fun panel!

Before we knew it, it was four o’clock and time to start breaking down the exhibit booth. The weekend flew by–so many wonderful memories. I’m home and still unpacking. But I’d love to start over with Friday and ride that ride all over again! 

 

 

Filed Under: Conferences, I Am Therefore I Write Tagged With: Conferences, I Am Therefore I Write

Some of the Nicest People are Planning a Murder

March 8, 2012 in Conferences, I Am Therefore I Write

Some of the nicest folks you’ll ever meet are planning a murder–or three. Seriously, it’s a puzzlement, when you think about it. Mystery writers–folks who spend their days plotting inventive ways to kill people and hide the bodies–are, as a group, so pleasant.

I’m just back from Sleuthfest in Orlando. This annual event is a writers’ conference sponsored by the Florida chapter of Mystery Writers of America. I saw old friends and met many online friends in person. Everyone I came in contact with was open, friendly, and helpful.

A few standouts (for me) among many workshops offered Thursday were Daniel Palmer’s “Coming up with Your ‘What If?'” Reed Farrel Coleman’s “Building 3-Dimensional Characters,” and Hank Phillippi Ryan’s “Get Your Motor Going.” In addition to presenting helpful content, these folks were all genuinely entertaining. I’m positive all the workshops were just as wonderful, but my efforts to clone myself have been largely unsuccessful, and thus I could only attend one in each time slot–I had to choose. I hate to choose. I’m horrible at making decisions. I digress.

One of the (many) highlights of the conference for me came Friday morning. I arrived early for the panel discussion, “The Traditional Mystery,” (one of my favorite panels) and chose a seat near the front center. I like to make sure I don’t miss anything. Anyway, I’d been there a few moments, flipping through my program, when I looked up to see Charlaine Harris walking towards me with a friend. For the record, Charlaine Harris is one of my very favorite authors–I know, me and millions of other folks, right?

I’d set my purse on the seat to my left. Charlaine sat in the next seat over. We smiled and said, “Good morning.” I tried so hard to act normal and not at all like a lunatic fan. I was mostly succeeding and was so proud of myself that I felt the need to share this information. I turned to her and said, “I’m trying really hard not to act like a total fangirl.”

She smiled real sweet and said, “I was just admiring your sweater.”

“Coldwater Creek,” I said.

And then we had a lovely conversation about how we both loved shopping online in general, and Coldwater Creek in particular, and how if she’d seen that sweater she’d have bought it. Something about Charlaine put me instantly at ease. You know how some famous people travel with an entourage and give off this vibe that screams, “Back off, I’m far too important to be bothered by the little people?” These people are the polar opposites of Charlaine Harris. (None of those folks were at Sleuthfest, of course.) She introduced me to Paula, her friend and assistant, who was equally charming. Truly, I have never met more delightful people.

Charlaine’s keynote on Saturday was fabulous as well–humorous, and inspiring. My only disappointment was that I already own all of her books, and had forgotten to bring one to have it autographed.

But you see, she makes my point. This warm, friendly woman has come up with enough creative ways to kill people, not to mention vampires, shape shifters, fairies, and all manner of supernatural creatures, to fill a shelf in my bookcase.

I think maybe writing about murder must be therapeutic. Getting all of your frustrations out by killing off the people who get on your last nerve, even if it’s just on the page, must release a happy hormone or some such thing. That’s my theory, anyway.

Peace out,

Susan

Filed Under: Conferences, I Am Therefore I Write Tagged With: Conferences, I Am Therefore I Write

I Need a Packing Intervention

July 22, 2010 in Conferences, Evidence of My Insanity

I’d planned to post more pictures from The Mother of All Road Trips, and write something about our time in every city. But, I’m leaving Tuesday for RWA Nationals, and I have to start packing.

You’d think, maybe, since I just got back from a three-week trip, that I’d have a clue how to pack for six days in Orlando. I thought that, anyway. Until I started reading all the blogs on how and what to pack for Nationals.

Many conference veterans advise things like, “Pack one skirt, one pair of pants, and four tops that you can wear with either.” Huh? My sister packs like this, but this is SO not me. I need choices. Who knows what mood I’ll be in on any given day? Besides, we’re going to be in ORLANDO, which is one big sauna in late July. I can’t see myself wearing anything twice, but that’s just me, and I have some well-documented neuroses.

Then there’s the perennial travel advice, “Bring things you can wear during the day, the slip into evening by changing shoes and accessories.” While this SOUNDS like common sense, my wardrobe simply does not lend itself to this strategy. You really can’t just slip on pearls and heels with khaki pants, a lacy tank, and a sweater and call it evening wear.

My favorite advice was from the woman who advised taking only nude underwear because it works with everything. Okay–this advice I needed months ago, because I don’t have time (or money) to shop for all new underwear between now and Tuesday. I guess I’ll just have to try not to show mine.

But I really do need a new laptop case. And a “little black dress.” Oh, and some Downy wrinkle release. Gotta go shopping. Maybe I should pick up that underwear while I’m out…

Peace, out…

Susan

Filed Under: Conferences, Evidence of My Insanity Tagged With: Conferences, Evidence of My Insanity

South Carolina Writers’ Workshop Conference

October 26, 2009 in Conferences, SCWW, Thoughts on Books Read

The voices in my head are singing The World Spins Madly On by The Weepies.

What I’m reading: Even by Andrew Grant

Warning: Do not start reading this book if you have no choice but to put it down and go to work, feed your kids, or head to your mani-pedi appointment. David Trevellyan will haunt you until you pick the book back up. It’s that good.

I just got back last night from the SCWW conference in Myrtle Beach. (I haven’t even blogged on Bouchercon yet, which was fabulous–more on that later. I know, I’m behind again!)

I arrived in Myrtle Beach on Thursday so I could stare at the ocean and sip mango daiquiris for a day. (My own brand of therapy.) This was a perfect beginning to the weekend.

The conference was awesome. For the first time in three years, I was able to attend without worrying about whether the AV was right in the meeting rooms, all the faculty flights were on time, the critique room stayed on schedule, etc. (As most of you know, I was the conference chairperson in 2007 and 2008. I learned a ton, and had a ball doing it, but it ate into my writing time too much.) Kudos to Carrie McCullough and Lateia Sandifer, this year’s chair and co-chair!

I can’t begin to cover conference highlights, because there were so many. Every workshop I attended was time well invested. But faculty introductions were a riot…

While the rest of the faculty lined up and took their turn at the mic for introductions, Janet Reid watched from her table sipping something cold. Maybe the second agent at the mic asked, “Why doesn’t Janet have to do this?”

The next agent in line introduced himself as Janet Reid. I think that was Jeff Kleinman. That was followed by a series of, “I am Janet Reid…no, I am Janet Reid” introductions–all in good fun.

Then there was the three-way introduction routine that Jenny Bent, Barbara Poelle, and Holly Root performed with flair, followed by the real Janet Reid taking the stage.

As you can tell, we had an awesome faculty and a lot of fun. The keynote speaker, Steve Berry could not have been more gracious, approachable, and encouraging.

Every faculty member (around thirty of them in all) went out of his/her way to encourage writers in all phases of their writing journeys.

I’m home today–first time in a month. I’m digging through laundry and notes from two conferences, but, yes, Julie, I will be on the dance floor at 5:40.

Peace, out…

Susan

Filed Under: Conferences, SCWW, Thoughts on Books Read Tagged With: Conferences, SCWW, Thoughts on Books Read

Coming Up For Air

October 23, 2006 in Uncategorized

Hey y’all. Sorry it’s been a while. I’m still writing, still VOLUPTUOUS, and still trying to grow in the former area and shrink in the latter. But things have been hectic lately. I’m a volunteer for the South Carolina Writer’s Workshop, and we just had our annual conference this weekend in Myrtle Beach. Actually, to be accurate, I’m on the board of directors, and this year, my assigned task was door prizes and auction items.

Now, if you think about it–and I have, trust me, given this a great deal of thought–it is moronic to sell things to raise money to help support the organization while simultaneously giving stuff away. But we do it. Every year. And by golly, if I’m going to do something, I’m going to do it right. So this year we gave away a ton of stuff. And we sold a ton of stuff. And I’m exhausted.

Writer’s conferences are a fantastic way to invest in your development as a writer. I’ve been to a few over the last several years, and it’s incredible how much you soak up, especially from the social events. Just being around a bunch of literary types gets your creative engine all revved up. And it’s amazing how generous successful authors, editors and agents are when dealing with crowds of writers who just have one quick question that takes 20 minutes.

Anyway, the conference was a success, and this week I’m traveling with Jim. We’re in some corner of Alabama that I was previously unfamiliar with, about an hour outside of Birmingham. I plan to catch up on sleep, writing, and reading.

I’ll catch up on Jazzercise next week. Hopefully I’ll still be able to fit in my clothes by then. I’ve been stress eating a lot. Yeah, I know, Diane…There’s no way I’ll catch up now.

But we had a lot of door prizes.

Peace, out…

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: Conferences, SCWW

Catching My Breath

June 5, 2006 in Uncategorized

Okay, I know it’s been a while. But I have a trunk of reasons. And they’re all boring, so we’ll skip those. I’ll do better, I promise. The Blue Ridge Christian Writer’s conference was awesome! I got back home on the 25th and have been recuperating ever since. There was so much going on it was hard to absorb it all. But I had a great time, made several new friends, met some wonderfully talented folks, listened to some fantastic motivational speakers…and spoke to a terrific agent who agreed to read my first three chapters.
Now, for those of you who are not struggling to get your first novel published, you might not realize what a big deal this is. This is tremendously superb news. I am happy. Please be happy with me. All together now….who-hooo!!
Now the bad news…the food was good but fattening. I did walk a lot, and it was uphill both ways, but I didn’t come close to burning off the calories I took in. When three full meals plus three snacks are placed in front of you every day, well pounds tend to accumulate. All of my hard work being tortured by Casey has been undone.
But today, I hauled myself back to the dance floor and also signed up for another session of Personal Torture…I mean Touch.
I signed up for the same class that Shona is in…oh boy, I haven’t told y’all about Shona. Shona is the funniest person I know who does not have a microphone. She needs one. The first time I met Shona was in a Personal Torture class the day after Mother’s Day. She was allowing as to how she made her children call their daddy’s girlfriend and wish her a happy Mother’s Day because she likes her and wants her to stick around (so the kids can spend quality time with their daddy, giving Shona a much needed break). I laughed till I cried when she was telling this story, but I can’t post all the details until I check with her…she might not want it on the internet. But everything that comes out of her mouth is hysterically funny, so you want her in your Personal Torture class to help keep your mind off the pain and agony.
I’ve been giving some consideration to the possibility that I’m spreading myself too thin (which is why I seldom have time to BLOG anymore). I’m in three local critique groups, and just palled up with an online critique buddy who I met at the conference. I may be spending more time critiquing and reading other people’s critiques of my work than I am actually writing. I am considering cutting back. Also, the thing I’m finding is that often the people doing the critiques have conflicting advice, which requires me to spend an inordinate amount of time deciding who’s right.
SO…I’m getting myself back on track, and hopefully will be posting more regularly. In the meantime, on a serious note, y’all pray for Myra and her family. Her mother’s real sick and is being transported to a cardiac care facility in Florida.

Peace, out….

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: Conferences, I Am Therefore I Write, Jazzercise, The Caring and Nurturing Alien

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