Thought I’d post a report from an author NOT in Reno at the RWA national conference. No hanging out at the bar, no book signing today, no worrying about a dress for the awards ceremony, no meeting with friends, no lining up to get a signed copy of Suz Brockman’s newest. Nope.
Instead, today I went to the neurologist. Very, very nice lady, practical, upfront and professional. I like her a lot. She’s ordered a nasty test that will pinpoint muscle damage, etc. Basically they will stick me with needles and then send tiny electrical shocks through my body.
She warned me, “It’s painful.”
When a doctor tells you it’s painful, you know it’s not a trip to Disney.
I thought about it though. I’m not really concerned. I could be stocking up on Crayolas to write with just in case the technician gets too happy with the current and I end up drooling all over myself and saying things like, “I love lima beans.”
But… there is worse stuff getting news that they are going to wire me up like Frankenstein’s monster and zap me with electricity like some mad patient whose brain cells need unscrambling. I could compare it to being in Reno this week and the worst that could happen there, which would feel LIKE painful electrical shocks following these revelations. For example…
1) I run into my editor, a very nice guy, and he tells me, “Hey Bonnie, I read your option about Rashid, and to tell you the truth, I got distracted reading the emergency exit instructions in my office because they were much more interesting than your manuscript. I phoned your agent and told him if I ever have to read another manuscript of yours, I think I’ll gouge my eyeballs out.”
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt! Zap! Yeow! Yikes!!!
2) In the smoke-filled bar I see Teresa Medeiros, one of my favorite authors. In a forgetful moment I gush and turn into Stark Raving Fangirl about how great her books are. She retreats in horror and runs and hides among the urinals in the men’s room to avoid me.
Zap zap zap! Yikes!
3) My author friends, Pamela Clare, Alice Gaines, Linda Broday, and others consort to tell me the wrong place to meet for drinks so they don’t have to see me. Like in Missouri. In December.
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt! Ouch! Ouch!
4) My editor from Ellora’s Cave, a very nice lady, sees me in the bar babbling to myself, wondering if my friends really DID mean to meet them in Missouri. She says she changed her mind about publishing my vampire story and that I’m the first author she’s ever encountered who can write a boring, celibate vampire... with a very tiny winkie.
5) I am trapped in an elevator during a sudden power blackout with a group of opinionated drunk women who just left the bar, who find out I write for Ellora’s Cave. They try to baptize me with their wine spritzers, shrieking at me, “YOU DO NOT WRITE ROMANCE! YOU WRITE PORN!”
Zap zap zap! Ouch!
6) I leave a copy of THE COBRA & THE CONCUBINE on my nightstand and the maid leaves me a polite note. “Read it. It sucked. Can I have my money back?”
Zap! Zzzt! Zzzzzzzzzzzzt! Ouch! Yikes!
7) And worst of the worst of the worst… I attend the Saturday night RITA awards to cheer on my fellow Dorchester authors who are up for a RITA… And they announce the winner in ALL the categories is…