Eyes of Crow
by Jeri Smith-Ready

This isn't a review so much as homage. I finished this book earlier, and I've been mulling it over all day. Above all, Eyes of Crow is a book that stays with you. Haunting, that's a good word for it. After reading her tragic masterpiece, Requiem for the Devil, I was somewhat prepared for that when I opened this book, which I bought at Nationals.

I haven't read it before now partly because I was saving it, like a child tucks away a treasure or a sweet to savor during that perfect moment. And partly because I didn't want to -- because once I did read it, I would no longer have the anticipation of reading to look forward to. Many of you know, I read insanely fast. It's both a gift and a curse.

Well, today, I found myself home alone during a thunderstorm. Andres had to work, and the kids are in Cancun with their grandmother for another day. All the signs augured ideal confluence, so I went and got the book from its place of honor on my nightstand, and then returned to my office to curl up in my favorite armchair.

I can't express what Jeri Smith-Ready has done with this book. As all fantasy ought to be, it is simultaneously beautiful, heartbreaking, and transportive. I ceased to hear the rain outside my windows, creating a soft rush in the tires of passing cars. I did not hear the hail drumming on my roof or the hungry rumble of the thunder god.
For a space of about three hours, I visited a world that exists only in the imagination of Jeri Smith-Ready.

The heroine, Rhia, is a woman of ethereal fragility, bolstered by inexplicable strength. A dark dance, that of light and shadow, life and death, weaves through her very soul. I experienced the story with anger, wonder and sometimes trepidation. By that I mean, the author moved me. I can offer no greater compliment.

And when I finally surfaced, I felt like a dreamer awakening from a dream that was not my own. Somnolent, aching for something that was never mine, but the glory and glamor of it brushed me briefly and left an echo of its shine. This is a book that leaves you with a hole in your chest, tears in your eyes, and aching for more.

Voice of Crow? I'm so there.

Labels: homage, reviews

Susan, come on down! You won the Urban Fantasy mega-pack! Email me with your shipping info, and I'll have Amazon send you the books right away.

The rest of you, head over to the Bradford Bunch today to find out who won the mystery prize.

What is it about him? Came across this picture, and I'm finding it hard to put him out of my mind, even though I have other things I need to write. He could be Jared Padelecki for all I know. But look at the angle of his head, the tension in his shoulders. What's his story?

He tells me his name is Payne. I know; I said the same thing myself. And he answered: "It's my last name, idiot. Just how emo do you think I am?"

Could you resist writing his story? Would you even try?

I'm sorry for everyone whose comments went unposted. I wasn't moderating. I developed some trouble with my ftp, and nothing published on the blog. I think I've sorted the problem by deleting the aberrant code. We'll see!

Labels: brooding emo boys

13 new things 1. I'm about to hire publicist(s). 2. I've confirmed that I will attend OmegaCon as an author panelist. That's in Birmingham, March 14-16, 2008. Since I'm a complete and total geek, this thrills me to no end. I went to sf/f cons in college all the time. I never dreamed I'd be sitting alongside the likes of Alan Dean Foster, David Drake, Ben Bova, Steven Brust, David Weber, Eric Flint, and Sherrilyn Kenyon. How excited am I? You have no idea. 3. I'm compiling a FAQ to give to my talented web designer, Deena Warner. I have a number of questions already, but if you have inquiries about my process or my writing, email them to me at ann.aguirre @ gmail.com. Take out the spaces. Once I get that sorted, it will be added to my website as a new page. 4. In the same vein, we'll be adding an Appearances page to my website. It boggles my mind that anybody might turn up to see me, but you never know. If the ladies of #1 have aught to say about it, you lot will show up in droves. 5. I came up with an awesome promotional giveaway idea. No, I'm not telling you what it is. I need to run it by my editor, who will then check with marketing. They may say my "awesome" idea is actually awful. 6. My agent said it was pretty cool, though. 7. The trip to Europe has been postponed. As our summer family vacation, we're spending a week at a villa in Cozumel instead. 8. We're spending Christmas in Europe this year. 9. I took a picture of my two cats that I'm going to send to ICanHasCheezburger. Stop laughing; this is BIG, I tellz u. Now I just has to think of a perfect capshun. Andres says, "We will do it Caturday." 10. My new clothing finally arrived. Too late for the conference, but oh well. The sexy pink bra is actually better than pictured. 11. I had to call my driver to get to UPS, and it took better than an hour to claim my parcel. Jorge stopped seven times to ask directions. We were starting to think it was a myth -- the paquetería promised land. 12. My second box of books arrived from Amazon. Mmm, Jim Butcher... 13. I'm running three contests, simultaneously. I don't think I've ever done that before. But at least I'm not as crazy as this guy. I lived right up the road from his shop when I was in Indy. Nice!

Labels: Thursday 13

no. u has 4gotn #1 rule of teh Intarnetz
that is all.

Labels: duh, should be common knowledge

I'm already running two. You knew about those, right?

Contest one:
If you sign up for my newsletter in the box to the left, you could win a signed copy of Stone Maiden, my two romantic comedies in your choice of formats, and a $50 gift certificate from Amazon. If we hit 500 names on the mailing list by August 15, which is when the contest ends, then I'll double the book money. Random drawing, like always. Have you signed up yet? What are you waiting for? I run special contests on the loop as well, but you aren't eligible unless you're a member of my inner circle.

Contest two:
Over on the Bradford Bunch, I'm running another contest, like always. If you comment on your favorite authors over there, you'll be entered in a drawing for a special mystery prize. The members of my loop know what it is, but they're not telling. It's good, though. That contest runs until midnight on Saturday, July 28th. So don't miss out.

I'm feeling the urge to give more stuff away. Why? Well, good things (and bad things) are supposed to come in threes, right? There's a reason people stay away from ladders, and toss spilled salt over their shoulders. We gotta keep the evil spirits at bay, don't we? So here we go with contest three.

It's quite simple. Go here. Generate a number of fantasy novel titles, pick your favorite one, and then post it in comments. Why?

Because the prize is an urban fantasy mega-pack. I'm giving away the following books:



These are some don't miss books right here. I'll draw a winner on Sunday, so this contest will wrap up at the same time as the one I have running on the Bradford Bunch.

I played with the title generator myself, and here are my favorites.

Isilda's Crown
The Lady Dreams of Summer
Sword and Discord
The Crystal Sun
The Island Faerie
The Legend of Wissan
Daliniof's Lady
Demon and Chaos
Goddess of Pride (sounds like PC Cast)
Mardian's Storm
The King of Magic
The Storm Spell

Aren't those awesome? I love playing with title generators. I might even use some of those one day. Now it's your turn, and you get to win some shit. You lucky, lucky readers!

Labels: contest

I write science-fiction, so obviously I'm interested in space exploration. I love reading about new technologies.

I mean, holy crap, I invented a weapon in Grimspace, which I called a disruptor. The way it works is simple and grotesque. I theorized that, like they're doing now, scientists had worked on developing technology that would permit people to beam around, as envisioned in Star Trek. However, in my world, they never experienced any success in transporting human beings intact to their new location. The targeted person wound up hideously scrambled, their flesh turned inside out, and the result was a horrible, agonizing death.

They, of course, immediately turned this research failure into a weapon. Thus, the disruptor was born. It's based in the science of teleportation; the disruptor has been attuned to the flesh frequency, and it literally rerranges all your molecules. So if you're shot in the stomach, it puts your guts on the outside, and you die of shock. Talk about gruesome and painful. I love my job!

Imagine my excitement when I found this article.

AUSTRALIAN physicists have discovered a method that could see atoms being teleported between Sydney and Perth and pave the way for possible Star Trek-like travel in the future.

The method involves cooling down a group of atoms and shooting lasers at them, making them "appear to disappear" before using transporting them along optic fibres at light speed to another location where they can be reconstructed.

The "simple" way of transporting atoms was developed by physicists Murray Olsen, Ashton Bradley, Simon Haine of the Australian Research Council Centre for Quantum-Atom Optics, and and Joseph Hope of ANU.

Dr Olsen told NEWS.com.au the method was very much like the Star Trek characters' favourite way to get back onto the ship.

The atoms are cooled to almost absolute zero, or -273C. At a billionth of a degree above this temperature, a quirk of physics makes all the atoms start behaving in the same way. Then the scientists zap them with two lasers.

Doesn't that lend credence to the science behind my disruptor? It could happen. I've tried to create a future based off what is possible today. I don't say it will happen the way I've written, but it could. That tickles me.

However, one thing I didn't include (and maybe I should) is space junkyards. I'm rather pissed about this article. It ticks me off when I catch people dumping the ashes and cigarette butts out of their car and into the parking lot. "Hello, the world is not your ashtray, asshole!" I feel the same way about NASA and its 1400 pounds of ammonia from the space station.

Haven't we fucked up our own world enough? Do we have to start sending shit into space? "The U.S. space agency calculates the odds of the debris hurting or killing a person at one in 5000." Fantastic. So now we have to worry about being killed by falling garbage?

This really riles me up. Do I need to write about giant floating trash heaps, close to Old Terra? I think I might. Because that's the way we're headed. I laughed my ass off at that episode of Futurama, where the professor builds the Smelloscope, which locates the giant trashball that they launched into space in 2052.

I'm not laughing now.

I'm over at the Bradford Bunch today. Come talk about your favorite authors, or comment on the dissing of romance. You might win something.

Got your attention? Good.

A while back, I blogged about my dissatisfaction with the Supernatural finale. I fucking love this show, man. I watch it faithfully, week after week. I love Sam and Dean. I love the whole dynamic. I loved where I thought the story was going. I haven't been this enamored with a TV show since the early days of X-Files. Yeah, no joke.

Tonight, Dee dropped a huge bomb on me. She's far more in touch with shit than I am, so she knows these things. She peruses the message boards where the crazy bitchfaces live. Ladies and gents, I just found out that fangirls are ruining my favorite fucking show!!

If you're not familiar with the show, you'll probably be lost at this point, so go get coffee and a doughnut or something. Go on, scram.

Everyone else with me? See, there was a storyarc that hinted a relationship might be forming between Dean and Jo, the daughter of a hunter Dean's dad worked with back in the day. I loved their chemistry, sort of shy and uncertain, which isn't like Dean at all. I couldn't wait to see the development.

Guess what? Jo isn't coming back. Why? Because crazy bitchface fangirls booed her at the various cons. They didn't want to see Dean hook up with her; obviously they think they stand some chance of boning a fictitious character. You will find them in the dictionary under D for Deluded. The actor himself, Jensen Ackles, is at this point scared shitless of his own fans. That means you're nutty as the daft old bitch in Christmas Vacation who wrapped up her own fucking cat and a Jell-o mold, ladies! WTF were you thinking, booing the actress who played Jo? She was good, unlike the Buffy knockoffs we're likely to see in season three.

From eonline:
Clo in Atlanta: Is Alona Tal, who plays Jo on Supernatural, returning next season? I hope so, because I love her chemistry with Jensen Ackles.

The Magic 8 Ball says...very doubtful. According to Alona's reps, anything is possible, but since the show hasn't done anything with her character for a long time, they're not expecting a call any time soon. Alona -- best known to many of you as Veronica Mars' Meg Manning -- does, however, appear in the Cane pilot for CBS, and she should be recurring on that show as the girlfriend of Jamie Vega, one of the sons of Jimmy Smits' character.

Which brings me to my next point. You crazybitchfaces got a great female character axed and in return they're adding two girlie hunters to fuck up the show's dynamic! I can't believe they're screwing with this; the whole "brothers alone against the world" thing MAKES IT WORK. Morons.

Dee and I would like to cordially offer you crazy bitchface fangirls our dainty middle fingers, turned up. And to Kripke, we offer a friendly kick in the nuts.

Buffy wannabes on Supernatural? HOW COULD YOU? I will close with this, since a picture is worth a 1000 words.

Sincerely,

Agitated Supernatural Fan
(which is entirely different than a crazy bitchface fan, who goes around calling herself Mrs. Ackles on the Internet)

So I went to see Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix recently. I've read all the books except the last one, which comes out in a couple of days, so I guess that makes me a fan, but I'm not a rabid one. My daughter wanted to see the movie for her birthday, so that was one of the things we did, in addition to going to Punta Norte.

I thought the movie was fine, as an adaptation from the book. Overall, it was pretty faithful. Now if you want to discuss my opinion of the book, that's another story. To my mind, Harry Potter 5 falls into the Jordan trap, where there's lots of running around, lots of hectic dialog, trying to draw attention away from the fact that nothing actually happens. One person dies, of course, but it seems completely meaningless and almost as an afterthought.

"Let's make sure the one person Harry relies on and considers family will not survive. Now everyone will really feel sorry for him! Look at Harry, totally isolated. Nobody understands him."

I think the author went overboard in making Harry a sullen little emo boy this time. Of course, I also wished she'd followed up on the hints of attraction she placed in book 5, regarding Harry and Luna Lovegood. I loved that character, and the actress who played her in the film did a fabulous job of bringing her ethereal eccentricity to life. Instead, book 6 goes in another direction entirely.

Still, none of that is what I meant to write about today. See, I've always been fond of Snape, as portrayed by Alan Rickman. Quite often, I've wished he would succeed in doing unspeakable things to Harry. I'm sure I'm in the minority; Harry Potter is the next thing to a deity, is he not? But I like Snape.

And in this film, Snape helps Harry try to prepare for a conflict with Lord Voldemort. They've discovered the reason for Harry's bad dreams, and well, it isn't good. So they practice breaking into each other's minds, hoping to strength Harry's resistance to such incursions. Naturally, Harry eventually breaches Snape's walls and glimpses the reason why Snape doesn't like Harry, and hated his father, James. Apparently James was something of a bully, and they show a lightning fast montage of scenes where James picked on Snape: thin, sullen, long hair hiding his face.

My imagination is immediately captured. Young Snape was played by Alec Hopkins, and I've only been able to find this picture of him. But in his garb, he's fucking irresistible: a quiet, introverted, sensitive type whose outward disdain masks his absolute alienation from his peers. How can you not love such a portrait of tortured vulnerability? I'm not a fan fic writer, but I want to do something with this inspiration. I just don't know what yet.

Have you guys seen the movie yet? What did you think? And how did you feel about young Snape?

Labels: Potter-mania

Okay, I say... I just don't get into the Intarweb kerfluffles the way I used to. I used to be riveted to see who was gonna say what to whom, but now I just keep clicking. Not sure why that is. Fact is, I once took a profound vicarious interest in all the shit that flies around on a regular basis.

Now there are a couple of good controversies raging, one about whether Adios to my Old Life should've won the RITA, and one whether readers and bloggers should be attending RWA National. As I understand it, the latter sentiment also carries some disdain for writers running around the conference dressed up as their characters.

I can't work up a high care factor about either issue. My thoughts? Well, AtmOL did win, so debating whether it should have seems like a dubious allotment of such resources as time and energy. It is in my case anyway; I have work to do.

As for readers / bloggers at National? Well, there's a shitload of free books. Why wouldn't a reader want to come? Meet authors, get free books? Sounds good to me. If I wasn't an author, I might attend myself, just for that. It would depend if I had the spare three hundred bucks that year, of course. Otherwise, I just don't see what the big deal is. Same with authors in costumes. Would I do it myself? Who knows? And what does it matter? What works for one person doesn't work for another. Fortunately, I don't feel like I need to arbitrate this for others.

I'm not sure what changed. Maybe it's because I spend less time surfing these days, so I have a fundamental disconnect between me and these events. I get on the Internet, but I don't feel these events have any real effect on me personally, and I rather prefer it that way.

Hurray for using the Internet as a tool instead of being another tool on the Internet!

We're up to 37 names, dude. Ya'll are awesome. But let's keep the momentum going.

Because today is my daughter's birthday, I need to go hang out with her. Isn't she beautiful? We're going shopping at Punta Norte, an awesome outlet mall. Here's the food court!

I'll leave you with this:

A vacationing penguin is driving through Arizona when the oil-pressure light flashes on. He gets out to look and sees oil dripping out of the motor. He drives to the nearest town and stops at the first gas station. After dropping the car off, the penguin goes for a walk around town.

He sees an ice-cream shop and decides that something cold would really hit the spot. He gets a big bowl of vanilla ice cream and sits down to eat. Having no hands, he makes real mess trying to eat with his little flippers.

After finishing his ice cream, he goes back and asks the mechanic if he's found the problem. The mechanic looks up and says, "It looks like you've blown a seal."

"No, no," the penguin replies, "it's just ice cream."

Edit: I got a new DKNY bag, even though it's not my birthday. Couldn't resist. Cute, no?

Don't forget to put your email addy in the box!

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So I'm starting a newsletter. This is a "powerful marketing tool", but I intend to use it as a venue where readers can talk about all books, not just mine. I'm using Google Groups, which tend to be reliable and clean, so this forum lends itself to discussion and debate. You can set your preferences so you only receive my announcements, every reply the minute it happens, or nothing at all, if you prefer to read on the web.

You can talk amongst yourselves, compare notes on books, and we'll do a Q&A once a week, where you get to pick my brain. Just leave some for me when you're through, or I'll never get my work done.

In addition, I'll offer sneak peeks, freebie downloads, special excerpts, and awesome giveaways for members only. And ya'll know I love givin' away loot. Right now, for instance, I've posted the phenomenal blurb I received from Sharon Shinn, my cover copy for Grimspace, and the first three chapters. I'm also giving away a free ebook to subscribers, a sexy little short called Be Delicious.

For the launch of my newsletter, this is the deal. If you sign up, you'll automatically be entered into my contest, which is going to run for a whole month. The prize is an autographed copy of Stone Maiden, yes, you read that right. I'm actually going to sign the book and leave my house to mail it. That's not all. You'll also receive copies of Your Alibi and The Average Girl's Guide to Getting Laid in your choice of formats. Sounds too good to be true, doesn't it?

But wait, there's more! If you sign up for Action and Attitude, you'll also have a chance at a $50 Amazon Gift certificate. To make things more interesting, if ya'll act as my street team and get the word out there for me, so that we hit 500 names in the list, one month from now--that's August 15--then I'll double the prize money. That's a shot at a free Benjamin in books just for telling folks to sign up. Not too bad, huh?

You think we can? Well, according to my remedial math (and feel free to correct me), we need to reach 17 people a day in order to make goal. So let's rock the house.

Ya'll with me? Put your email addy in the box, baby. You know you want to.

Subscribe to Action and Attitude

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Labels: contest

I gotta write about this seminar I attended with Sharon Sala. She is so sweet in person. I ran into her in the elevators three or four times, so I decided to go listen to her speak. Her book, Jackson Rule, is one of my favorites of all time, btw. You should read it. For real.

Anyway, she was amazing. She made half the room laugh, and the other half cry, but not at the same time, obviously. She told this story about how she used to judge contests, and this writer had written her hero / heroine into a really tight situation. They were trapped in a gully, behind a wagon. Indians had trapped them down in a gully, the hero was shot, and the heroine tore a strip off her petticoat to bandage his wound. The woman had sand in her hair, dirt in her drawers, and hadn't bathed in a month. That was the moment where the hero's libido overcame him. How would you judge that entry? We all cracked up.

Now on to the exciting bit:

The Berkley party...

I wore my little black dress and waited nervously outside the ballroom for my agent, watching all the beautiful people strolling by. Nora Roberts looked fabulous in her peacock colored dress. She arrived with her friend Ruth, and then JAK wandered by. There was a lady in an animal print dress, and another wore this really gorgeous turquoise gown.

My intimidation factor went way up, as I waited. Dude, what the fuck was I doing there, right? But I stood my ground and Laura showed up soon thereafter with Wendy McCurdy. We went inside and were immediately offered roast chicken on sticks. I took some wine and tried not to look like I was scared to death. That was my first cocktail party. No, seriously.

I met Katherine Dante and Maya Banks. Talked with them a little bit. Laura and I circulated, met a few more people, whose names escape me. I'm really sorry about that. Some were agents, some were editors, and some were authors.

The funniest moment came when I was peering at a terribly tall blonde woman over the table and finally said, "Aren't you my editor?"

I recognized Terri Schaefer from her picture on her website. Turns out she had come to the party with a friend, so it was just too funny for words. What a funny place for us to get together.

Laura stayed longer than she intended, and I lasted another half hour after that. I cut out and headed back to the room for a slumber party night. Much fun was had by all.

Today, I had headshots done. I haven't decided if I will buy any of them as my official publicity photo, but I am cognizant that I need to have such a thing in my press kit (and how fucked up is that?) I hate having my picture taken, but some of them didn't look too bad. I'll take a wait and see attitude on that, regarding the proofs.

Attended the Q&A with Nora, who rocked the house. Patricia Gaffney was there, and she gave a great introduction. Some lady in the audience had the nerve to argue with Nora about whether Heather Locklear was any good in that Lifetime movie. Daaaaaaaang, that takes some balls. Ovaries. I mean ovaries.

There's one dude at this conference who wrote his thesis on romance novels. He's a popular guy.

We attended the luncheon, where Lisa Jackson was the Keynote speaker. I'm calling this the Lisa conference forever after. She was really good, though. Funny. And she did an anti-striptease on stage, by putting on more clothes than she started with.

After that, we met the Bitchery for drinks, which was awesome. One of them looked at my nametag and said, "You're Annie Dean!" which was funny because my real name was on my badge. Candy and Sarah are twice as much fun in person, and I loved meeting the other commenters. Sarah then announced that she had a WWND? shirt made. I was stunned. Who knew this would turn into such a pervasive movement? I feel like I've started something like scientology. Does this mean we need to give birth in silence? Well, WWND? Yeah, I think not.

Candy even picked up the tab. Nice!

We wandered down to the last book signing, where we collected more loot. I saw PC Cast again, and got a signed book for Dee. (See, I DO love you, baby.) Finally caught up with Linnea Sinclair, who pimped Grimspace to everyone who stopped by her table. I hung out with her until time to head back to my room, where I am now blogging. Gonna call this post done, however, because I need to look at what I'm wearing to the RITA awards later.

Squee! I feel so official now. I am totally going to RT, and I'll even have a book to sign.

But fun as this has been, I'm ready to go home.

Labels: RWA

No, I'm not tackling RWA business stuff here because other people are covering it better than me.

I'm just covering what I've been doing. Last night, after the Goody room, where I got more free books, Carrie and I chilled in our room for an hour and then went to the welcome reception, where we met some nice ladies named Judy, Chris, Lynn, and Michelle. Food was good, full taco bar and another table with fruit, cheese, vegetables, and dip. Nice. Except the cheese.

I was so excited to get my hands on sharp cheddar. Dude. This wasn't real cheese. It was like...pasteurized imitation cheese food that looks like real cheese, smells like real cheese, but when you bite into it...wow. So wrong. I took a bite, and made a horrible face, so Carrie promptly ate some of hers to see how bad it could possibly be to make me look like that. And then she made the face.

Then we went to movie night, where we totally MST3K'd the film of choice, Romancing the Stone. More free books, Meg Cabot's latest. She had a book trailer with an interview up on the big screen at first, just running in a long loop. Not too many people showed up. We actually had a party to attend that we forgot about. Oops! The plus side was that we were able to stuff our bags full of bottled water and soft drinks. Shhhhhh, don't tell! They're charging four bucks for a Coke around here!

Checked out the bazaar, which didn't have anything I couldn't live without, and then we went back to the room for a totally slumber party night. I don't remember what all we talked about, but I laughed so hard I almost snorted my Diet Pepsi. We also couldn't find our ice bucket, so we called the front desk for technical support.

The poor woman immediately asked, "Did you look in your credenza?"

"In my cre-whatta? You mean the TV cabinet?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"We're not big TV watchers, so no. Hold on, I'll look now." Pause. "Oh. Here it is! I'm sorry, I swear we haven't been drinking."

She sounds dubious. "You sure about that, Miss Ann?"

Great. She knows my name. This will become new slang, shortly. "So drunk, I couldn't find my ice bucket with both hands."

Anyway, we stayed up later than we should have, and skipped the early first seminars this morning. We needed the sleep. Went to a couple in the late morning, and one was more useful than the other. Now I'm about to head out to lunch, and later tonight, I have the Penguin cocktail party with Laura. Eeeeeeeeeee! Deets on that tomorrow.

I'm totally meeting a lot of cool authors. Seen Nora and JAK and talked to others. Everyone has been really friendly, except for one bitchy old lady. You know who you are, Hagatha!

Labels: RWA

Hey, ya'll! Did you miss me? Here's what I've been up to.

The days before the conference passed in a flurry of packing and personal grooming. Highlights, manicure, pedicure, facial all needed to be done right before I left. Also had to make a last minute shopping run because the clothes I ordered from Penney's didn't arrive in time.

By 12:40am on Wednesday, I had everything packed, my music ready to go, and the ebooks I wanted to read loaded on my PDA. I laid down with my husband for two hours of cuddling and talking (which he fell asleep in the middle of), and then I crawled out of bed and hit the shower at 2am. Got ready to go, and waited for my driver.

Jorge arrived at 3:25am, and got me to the airport in no time. Not much traffic at that hour. When I got inside, I saw that most everything was still closed. I managed to find one open money exchange, where I bought dollars for pesos, and then I got in the massive queue waiting for American airlines to open.

That took about 45 minutes, but once the line began moving, it wasn't too bad. After I received my boarding pass, security was a breeze. Headed down to gate 30 to wait for my plane, and found to my dismay that none of the breakfast places were open either. I listened to the Fray, and eventually snagged some bottled water at a mini mart that opened up just before I took off.

American airlines, I would like you to know that flight 1066 from Mexico City was seriously crowded. I wound up sitting next to a crotchety old dude, and I had the toddler from hell behind me. To make matters worse, we developed technical issues and sat on the runway like an hour before they managed to get us in the air, all while Grumpy next to me sighed and growled, and the toddler wailed one octave above my comfort level. I was so close to pulling a Latifah. You know that movie where she loses it on a plane, and is all, "UPGRADE MY TICKET! PUT ME IN FIRST CLASS. I don't care what it costs, I gotta get out of here!" I was so close to doing exactly that, cos damn, those people were annoying.

Finally hit Dallas around 11am. I wind up in a shuttle van full of Herbalife people. They rank up there with Mary Kay and Amway sellers for sheer scariness. They were all, "We're going to the mansion to for the 'potential' seminar tonight!" And I was like, dude, please don't drink the Koolaid.

I was so grateful when I arrived at the Hyatt, and I saw normal looking women wandering around. Quick check in. I had a guy named Lazaros, who was totally working his Euro accent. He was doing his Fabio voice while he helped me, and when he got finished with me, he said, "If you need anything, anything at all, you just call Lazaros, ok?" Daaaaaamn, Hyatt, who knew?

I went up to my room, unpacked, and then went down to register and pick up my dress for the RITAs. No trouble in either locale, so I went back up and took a nap. I had been up for like 36 hours at that point. Still no sign of Carrie, my roommate. Her flight was canceled and then they lost her bags, so she was totally stressed by the time she rolled in. I had lunch, which was fruit salad, at the coffeshop, and a random RWA member came up to me and practiced her mad networking skillz before running off to interogate someone else.

At four, I met up with Laura, my utterly awesome agent. She is adorable and charming in person. We hung out and chatted, and then Carrie joined us. We had a great time talking about books (and male prostitutes), and then we went to the Literacy signing, where I was supposed to be signing books. Except I didn't have any, sooo... they were kind enough to put "sold out" sign on my spot. Incognito, I wandered around and chatted with various authors, such as Jeri Smith-Ready, Linnea Sinclair, Patricia Sargeant, who is a sweetheart in person. I bought books from Amie Stuart and Robin D. Owens as well. A random woman ran up and hugged me and squealed, "OMG, there's Jayne Ann Krentz!" who was sporting a particularly festive dye job.

When I turned around, she said, startled, "Oh, you're not my friend!" I was like, like, aw, after we hugged and everything... I looked at the woman she thought I was, who was smaller, had long black hair, brown eyes, but we were both wearing red shirts. "Oh, I can see why you would make that mistake," I replied, with a certain ironic inflection. She ran away like my sarcasm scared her.

Afterward, Carrie and I headed upstairs to get in line for a table, just before the rush. We ate dinner at Parrino's with Laura, where male prostitutes came up again. What can I say, after Lazaros in the afternoon, it was on my mind. Loooong meal, but we had a good time.

Carrie was worried about her lost bags, and feeling pretty damn tired. I was busted. Laura rushed off to a meeting, having said, "Who am I to deny people my charms?" She's way fun.

The roommate and I went to the room and crashed, but at 1am they delivered her bags. She bubbled about it, and I blearily mumbled my congratulations. I'm glad I took the bed away from the door, so when strange men come knocking in the middle of the night, she has to deal with them. Not that this happened more than once, in case our husbands are reading this. No, indeed. No strange men. Just the bellboy.

This morning, she got up extra early and got ready first, which makes her the perfect roommate for me. I got ready after, ambled down and got a capuccino and a muffin, then found my way to the PAN meeting, all the way in Union Station. I met Ann Christopher and Connie Cox, and saw Patricia Sargeant again. The meeting was fruitful, and I learned a bit, even though they didn't really address my question. I asked about the shelving segregation issue, and the book buyers talked around it, hinted at niche marketing, and then fobbed it off on the publishers. Meh.

Found Carrie in line for the luncheon. Food was great, and Lisa Kleypas spoke. She's a cheerleader type, and I wasn't too sold on the whole armadillo thing. She gave a very girlpower speech, though, and got a few real laughs.

I've gotten 9 free books so far, including the coveted Sherry Thomas ARC. Mwahahaha! Eat your hearts out, suckers! I skipped the General Meeting to catch you guys up on what I've done, and now I'm about to head out to lurk outside the Goody room, which opens back up at four. I've heard that Dorchester just dropped off a bunch of books, and I need more free ones!

More social stuff tonight. I'll update ya'll about that tomorrow. Hope you're having as much fun as I am.

Labels: RWA

Hey, ya'll.

I leave for National in just over a week, and I have a book to finish. Thus, the next post I write will be from the conference. I'll be meeting my agent, going to a Penguin cocktail party, and a lot of other exciting stuff. If you're going to be in Dallas and you want to meet up with me, drop me an email at ann.aguirre at gmail.com.

Be good while I'm gone.

I'm carrying this over from Romancing the Blog, where Ciar Cullen has written a column about race. As most of you know, there's discrimination in romance. People are not treated equally. Black authors have their books segregated according to their skin color, not their genre. And that's wrong; that's not up for debate or discussion.

What about AA marketed lines like Kimani? That seems like it encourages segregation as well. The publishers will say they're targeting AA readers, and it works, so that's why they do it. But it limits a black author's audience from the jump, which doesn't seem like a good thing.

But I don't think Ciar addressed the most important point. The real question is, what can we do about it? How can we communicate our displeasure? Would writing letters to marketing teams help? Complaining at bookstores? Letters to the editor in various newspapers? Who should we bring this to? It's such a widespread practice that I'm at a loss. I don't like endless talking; I prefer action. But I don't know what to do. What do ya'll think?

Think authors are egotistical bitches who occasionally manage to pound out an entertaining story? Think again. I'm inviting ya'll to talk about yourselves, and as a reward for doing so, there shall be prizes!

Have Sunday Brunch with me at the Bradford Bunch. If you can't make it today, check it out Monday morning. You know you don't want to work anyway, and the contest's running all this week. I hope you'll stop by.