I took a cab home from the Marriott on Canal Street a couple of hours ago, and have been kind of decompressing. It's nice to be back in my home again, but I am also rather sorry that Bouchercon is over for another year. I checked into the Marriott on Tuesday, and ever since then it's been go-go-go for one Gregalicious; so many thoughts, so many good times, so much laughter that it's going to take me a while to come down and return to reality again.
Reality. Heavy heaving sigh.
Every Bouchercon, of course, is completely different from the one the year before. I have a great time every year; my sides literally have been aching for days from all the laughter. My voice is gone, every muscle in my body is tired, my eyes ache. I don't sleep well in hotel rooms, and I did have to get up early several mornings in a row. I also drank sooooo much I probably need a liver transplant; as I do every year after Bouchercon I need to have an alcohol detox.
But I'll worry about that tomorrow.
One of the things I love the most about these conventions--any kind of book convention, really--is how lovely it is to hang out with other writers, to talk about books, to toss around ideas, to recharge my batteries and think about writing and what I want to do going forward. There are also all those wonderful moments when I realize that "Wow, I'm having breakfast, and Catriona McPherson and Sara Paretsky are at my table!" or "Am I really sitting here having a glass of wine with Alafair Burke?" or "Wow, am I really on a panel with Laura Lippman and Alex Marwood and Alison Gaylin and Lou Berney?"
It kind of overloads my circuits sometimes. It's hard to believe.
I will undoubtedly talk more over the next week about some of my thoughts, my impressions, and how wonderful it all was. But this morning my head is still a little fried, and I'm a bit tired, and I am about to go collapse into the easy chair with Barbara Michaels' Prince of Darkness.
I shall leave you with a picture of the two anthologies I have stories in that came out this past week, so I got my author copies at Bouchercon.
"I will undoubtedly talk more over the next week about some of my thoughts, my impressions, and how wonderful it all was. But this morning my head is still a little fried, and I'm a bit tired, and I am about to go collapse into the easy chair with Barbara Michaels' Prince of Darkness."
It all sounds marvellous; so go and relax, and I look forward to reading more . . .