This One Time...at Book Camp (#RWA11 pt. 1)

Last week, I lost my Romance Writers of America national conference virginity in a hotel on Times Square.

This was the second trip to Manhattan I’d made in my entire life. During the first, I sprouted the seed of an idea that became Stone Kissed, so I knew chances were I’d get lucky in Manhattan. 

Lindsey,  me, Toni. The people behind us are fascinated by the singer passing plates with one hand while he belts into the mike with the other.

My first bit off luck was tagging along with Toni Blake and Lindsey Faber as we had dinner at Ellen’s Stardust Diner. Broadway hopefuls sang standards while we attempted to carry on meaningful conversation. At least I think it was meaningful. After a less-than-stellar ride from the airport, I had a more than my fair share of the wine on the table, so while I’m sure we solved the world’s problems and saved publishing, I can’t impart any wisdom to you.

Yes, the songstress is standing on the bench behind Toni. Things like this make it difficult to save publishing.

My roommate-extraordinaire and source of my Prize-Winning Hot Rollers (it will make sense in part two) was Gabriella Edwards, author of Until Emie. We worked Monday. We worked hard. I mean…HARD. Our first stop: The Museum of Sex. In the words of Jenn Spiller, we learned things that day we cannot unlearn.

Notice how I have no photos of this outing? None? That's because my three compatriots flat-out refused to let me get pictures of their smiling faces peeking out from behind the antlers of a life-sized statue of three stags engaged in sweet loving. It would have been the Brady-Bunchest photo of the conference, I'm telling you. But no!

Jenn, a recovering New Yorker, devoted herself to training Gabriella and me in the art of hailing a cab. That evening, I poured myself into my first round of spanx and we hailed our way to a special edition of Lady Jane’s Salon, which was a mad crush. Beatrice.com’s Ron Hogan was master of ceremonies, and we listened to readings from six amazing new and established paranormal and historical romance authors. I admit it. I was tired. That museum had drained me (insert your own joke here) so when I settled into the leopard-print bean bag to listen, it took the entire crew from Romance University to pull me back out.

Bordello-style decorating at Madame X, home of Lady Jane's Salon. Yeah. I could work here.

Tuesday morning, Gabriella and I decided to take a leisurely stroll through Central Park.  This is what happened:

                                                                       

Tuesday afternoon, we registered for the conference proper. From that moment on, the Name Tag Phenomenon began. Instead of making eye contact, strangers in the elevator stared at our chests. If they knew our names, they smiled and introduced themselves. If not…their eyes slid away. Which brings me to my first (and perhaps only) Advice to Future Conferees: 1. Make eye contact FIRST. 2. Smile. Then, and only then 3. Look at the name tag as you introduce yourself.

It takes practice. I had a hard time with it, myself (and yes, I managed at one point to re-introduce myself to someone I'd met only an hour earlier because I didn't not tag-skim first.)

But squinting at chests and then turning away is rude. Tired, cranky, introverted writers don’t want to give each other the impression that we’re not worth one another’s time, do we? Of course we don’t.

Wednesday, the conference began in earnest. 

Did you go? What advice do you have for Future Conferees?